CHAPTER 17

Solomon Bellingham and his deputy crossed the road and entered a small office building on the outskirts of town.  They were both wearing jeans and golf style tee shirts, and they blended in with the other people who were milling around.  It was late Saturday afternoon and neither man appeared to be in a hurry.  Once inside, they took the elevator to the fourth floor and knocked on the door of an office with the name Travioli Development Group etched into the frosted glass. The door was opened by a well built man in his early forties, whose hair was as black as the shirt he was wearing. His olive complexion and square chin were almost a trademark of sons whose father’s were born in southern Italy. He smiled broadly, showing a set of beautiful teeth, and when he spoke his voice was strong and masculine; it had just a hint of the richness that comes from a private educated at an elite school.

‘Good morning gentleman. Welcome to my humble establishment. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.'  He led them into an inner office, which unlike the building’s unimpressive exterior, was tastefully decorated with expensive tapestries and superb antique furniture.  Danieli Travioli saw the look of surprise on the deputies face and said, ‘I chose this building for the bland and unpretentious face it shows to passers by, however as you can see I have created a very nice working environment for my colleagues and myself. he smiled, ‘One should never judge a book by it’s cover Mr. Sawyer, should one?’ He gestured to them to be seated and buzzed his assistant, who appeared almost immediately. ‘Ah Sophia, may I present the Minister for the Environment, Mr Solomon Bellingham, and his deputy, Mr. Jacob Sawyer.’

Sophia smiled and offered her hand to both men. ‘Can I bring you some refreshments gentlemen? We have an excellent blend of coffee that I highly recommend.’ She waited for a reply and at the same time assessed them, deciding finally she neither liked, nor trusted, either. She smiled again, ‘Or perhaps you would prefer tea. We have tea as well.’

Sawyer replied for them both, ‘Coffee will be fine, thank you Sophia.’ Her skin crawled when she made eye contact with him. She recognised his type well; a highly ambitious, self-serving little man, who thought every woman he met was an easy lay. ‘How do like your coffee Mr. Sawyer, weak or strong?’ She asked sweetly.

‘Strong please. Very strong.’ He held her gaze, hoping she would make the connection between this preference for coffee and sex.

‘Well gentlemen, let’s get down to business shall we?’ Travioli said pleasantly, his voice did not reflect the disgust he felt for people who thought they were superior to him. ‘So what was so important that we couldn’t discuss it over the telephone?’

Bellingham looked uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair, ‘A proposal.’ He said with forced confidence. We have a proposal for you Danieli.’ He mistakenly thought that using Travioli’s first name made their association more intimate than it really was. He’d only met the developer a few times before, but he knew he was the best in the business.

When the Travioli Group worked a development it was big; very big. He knew Danieli had taken over from his father, who had started the company forty years earlier. Pick any large development; container loading docks, large high rise apartment block, tunnels or super highways, and the Travioli name would be on the contract.

Danieli smiled, ‘Well you could be in the right place, or maybe I’ll have to send you down the road to one of my competitors.’ He said lightly, settling back in his chair. ‘So tell me about your proposal; I’m always open to a lucrative deal.’

Bellingham relaxed, ‘This could be the biggest thing you’ve ever taken on.’

‘Really? Please tell me more.’

‘What do you know about rising sea levels and climate change?’

‘Enough. It’s in my best interests to know about such things.’

‘Then you might like to also know the government could soon be pushing a major relocation program; and large scale relocation means large scale development. I’m talking, houses, schools, hospitals, roads, electricity plants; the lot.’ He paused to study Travioli’s reaction. ‘I mean everything. Including supply chain networks, and old people’s homes.’ His ruddy cheeks flushed with excitement.

Travioli studied him well, but his expression did not betray his thoughts, which were mixed. The developer in him was on full alert. The possibilities were exciting, but Danieli Travioli, loyal citizen, whose parents had instilled sound values of honesty and gratitude to the country that opened its heart to them back in the mid fifties; a country that had given them the opportunity to build a successful business, was shocked and appalled.

An image of his father formed inside Danieli’s head. He was sitting in the backyard of their modest home in the working class suburb of Guilford. He was about ten years old at the time; his three older brothers were each two years apart, making the eldest, eighteen. The first born son was Nicolo, and he and his dad worked together, building domestic garages and laying driveways. The two other boys, Stefano and Vincenzo, were still in high school, but they worked with their father and brother on weekends and during school vacations; never during school days.  They studied hard, and later they both went to university, where they gained honours degrees in civil engineering, and then they joined the business, which was by then employing two hundred people. Danieli had walked the same path as his brothers, and he too joined the company after he completed university.

Being the boss’s son won him no favours; in fact, the opposite. His father told his workers to treat his son exactly the same as everyone else, and they made sure they did. Once during dinner with the family Danieli complained that the men had made him carry twice as many bricks as the other apprentices; his father had put down his fork, looked over the top of his glasses and said, ‘Danieli, if you want to take over from me one day, then you need to carry three times as many bricks as anyone else; and you need to do it twice as fast as they can.’

He picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, ‘and you need to do it with a smile on your face.’ He added before he continued to eat his meal.

Sure there had been times when the Travioli name had hit the headlines; claims of corruption and doggy deals, but the family never took it personally. They accepted that if you were successful business people and your name sounded Italian, claims of mafia links and organised crime deals, were stereotypes that were deeply ingrained in the Australian psyche.

They laughed about it at family gatherings, but they never let it get to them. They just got on with business and let the media play their stupid games. He could only remember one time, when the laughter turned sour, and that was when his young sister married an Italian businessman and the headlines read; Travioli family ties the knot with syndicate boss.

His mother cried and that made him very angry. He wanted to break the reporter’s skinny neck. But he found a better way. He bought out the paper, sacked the reporter and sued him for libel.  He felt vindicated when the guy ended up working for a sleazy magazine, because no one else would give him a job. If Danieli ever needed proof that the Travioli family was powerful, this little bit of family history, removed any doubts he had. 

The Travioli family could trace their history back to 1120, and in the 1790 censes, their primary occupation was listed as carpenters. They were honest men who raised their children to take care of each other and to never do anything that would bring shame on the family. Danieli and his siblings took their parents example.

They worked hard, sometimes played hard, and they always looked after the community, even the non-Italian one, they now called home. The Travioli Group made money; a lot of it. But they were generous with their fortune. Every year they gave away millions, but never in their own name. All the money was channelled through the Scalabrini Centre. 

Only a handful of people outside the family knew about the huge donations. His eldest brother Nicolo; who was the Financial Controller; his other brothers Stefano and Vincenzo, who were both directors of the family trust; their banker, who was also the president of the Sydney Scalabrini Foundation, and Charlie Palmer, their lawyer. 

In spite of his name, Charlie was family too. Danieli’s parents had taken him in when the local priest found him abandoned in the parish church after midnight mass one Christmas.

Charlie was two years old, and even after a long and intensive search, no one ever claimed him; so Charlie stayed. And Rodolfo and Maria Travioli fed him; clothed him; loved him; and gave him an excellent home and education.

Danieli stopped his reverie to concentrate on the two men in his office again. He’d listened to enough of their conversation to know they were asking him to help them pull off the biggest scam in Australian history.  He leaned forward, ‘So Solomon, you want to give my company all the contracts in exchange for a thirty percent split of the profits.' He looked straight at the Minister. ‘Why only thirty percent? Why not fifty? Fifty would still be a fair deal.’ He settled back and watched hard.

Bellingham smiled, ‘We don’t want to be greedy.’ He said and turned to his deputy. ‘Isn’t that right Jacob? We only want a modest cut of the profits don’t we?’ He winked at the younger man and laughed. ‘We’re reasonable men aren’t we?’

Danieli had to fight the impulse he had when he read the headline regarding his sister’s wedding.  Thirty years had taught him a lot; he knew how to hide disgust. And he knew there was more to be gained from playing along than letting an opponent know you were about to bring them unstuck. ‘So when does the government intend to make their relocation plan public?’

‘We’ve got two months to finalise the report; with recommendations of course.’ He added smugly. ‘With your help Danny, we can start rolling out infrastructure and construction projects within six months.’

‘But of course every project will be up for public tender.’

‘Sure. But young Jacob, myself and a few other trusted colleagues, will be assessing all of those tender responses.’ He grinned like a man who had just had sex with Pamela Anderson, ‘If you get my drift.’ He added.

‘Oh I get your drift alright’. Danieli heard the sharp edge in his tone, ‘And how much will your trusted colleagues cut be?’ he asked deliberately softening his voice.

'Twenty percent.’

‘So there’s our fifty.’ Danieli said, stating the obvious, ‘So does that mean the Travioli Group will get the other fifty?’

‘Hell no. We thought your share should be thirty too. That will leave twenty in the kitty to get us out of any difficult situations that might arise.’

‘Seems like you’ve thought of everything.’

‘I take great pride in my organisational skills Danny. I didn’t get to be a minister by doing things badly. It’s taken years of planning and seizing the right opportunities as they arise.’

‘Well it sure looks like you’ve excelled yourself on this one.’ For the first time in years, Danieli wished he still smoked. Lighting up was always a great way to create a distraction, and he sure as hell needed one now. ‘So how do you see our involvement in this grand scheme?’ He hoped he sounded casual and interested, not brash and judgemental.  Bellingham and Sawyer were starting to get to him. He hated creeps at the best of times, and his mood was suddenly veering off into a heavy storm.

‘The plan is simple. You guys tender; we make sure you win, and then we split the profit. Easy.’ Bellingham summarised. ‘Can we count on your support? He asked.

‘Well gentlemen, I need a little time to think about it.’ Danieli said, trying to give the impression of a man who was keenly interested, but just stalling so they wouldn’t think he was easy.

‘Good man. I knew you’d see this as a mutually beneficial opportunity. Take all the time you need. We’ll have something more concrete in a few weeks. Perhaps you’ll be ready to discuss the fine details by then.’ Bellingham turned to Sawyer, ‘Well young Jacob, we should leave this good man to get on with his work.’ He stood and offered his hand. ‘I’ll call you in a couple of weeks so we can sit down and work out our strategy.’ He grinned. ‘If you’re a golfer I’d get in as many games as you can, in a few weeks you’ll be busier than you’ve ever been. It will be all hard work from then on.’

Danieli walked them to the door, watched them descend the stairs and then returned to his office. ‘Sophia will you contact my brothers and ask them to come here tonight at seven please.’ He spoke into the intercom. ‘If any of them complain, tell them I want to talk to them about the biggest deal we’ve ever done.’ He paused, ‘tell them I’ve got a new swag of Vito Caratolo Arini reds, and I’ll give them two bottles each. That’ll bring ‘em in.’ He laughed.

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