Читать книгу Lyza's Story: Book One of The Lane Trilogy - Vicki Inc. Andree - Страница 9

Chuck sat on a short rock stool eating a rasher of bacon and eggs. “George, this grub is the best breakfast I’ve had since I came to Australia. You’re going to make some little gal a great wife.”

George filled their mugs with coffee. “You’re just trying to get on my good side.”

Chuck loved the feel of the crisp morning and cooking outdoors. “Pass me one of those tough biscuits.”

George tossed a biscuit to Chuck. “No more insults.”

Chuck caught the biscuit and smeared butter on it. “You know I’m just having a little fun with you.”

“I learned to cook in the army, and if you don’t stop teasing me, next time I’ll fix what I cooked back then.”

Chuck feared he had insulted his friend. “Now I know you’re serious. Sorry.”

George laughed. “That’s more like it. Give me the respect I deserve.”

Chuck held out his empty cup. “Pour me another cup of joe. It’s just the way I like it.”

George couldn’t resist. “Oh, it’s the way you like your women, right? Hot and strong.”

Chuck leaned back. “How could you tell? But now I’m curious. Why is a good-looking guy who knows how to cook outdoors still single?”

George’s face turned sad. “I never met the right woman.” His faced reddened, revealing an obvious lie. “Well, I did meet the right woman, but she turned me down. She married a rich fellow and moved to England. I haven’t heard from her since. I guess it’s been more than fifteen years. Hard to believe how fast time goes. How ’bout you?”

Wanting to lighten the mood, Chuck grinned. “I thought you knew. I’ve been married for over twenty years to the same demanding, but generous, woman.”

George looked confused. “You didn’t tell me.”

Chuck drained the last of his coffee. “Oh, yes I have—repeatedly. I’m married to IBM and you know it. The only reason I got to come this weekend is that I found someone else to take my place on emergency call. It’s not a particularly happy marriage at this point.”

George shook his head and chuckled. “She’s quite a taskmaster, eh?”

Chuck took on the Australian accent. “Right, she is that indeed, mate. I’m about ready for a divorce.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s keeping you there?”

Chuck considered the remark for a minute. Then he admitted the truth. “She’d cut me off without a penny.”

George rolled up his sleeping bag and began gathering gear. “I get it.”

Chuck repacked his backpack. Remembering how they’d eaten lunch on the hike yesterday, he placed the snacks where they would be easiest to reach.

George started to break camp and prepare for their hike back. After packing up, he took his sweatshirt off. A chilly morning would soon give way to hot sun, though now the sun barely peeked over the horizon.

George stood and surveyed their position. They walked for a few hundred yards and stopped. “Well, I have to admit I’m on unfamiliar ground here.”

A slight chill went through Chuck. “Are we lost?”

Chuck shook his head and looked at his compass. “No, I know how to get back. I just haven’t been out this far before.”

A native leaped from the brush next to them and bounded away.

Chuck jumped, too. “Oh, that was creepy. I didn’t even see him.”

“Me either. Those kangaroos can be fast little buggers.”

Chuck took a deep breath to recompose himself. “The outback is full of surprises.”

***

After their first campout, they explored the area around the ghost ranch on several camping trips. What George said was true: Chuck loved it.

Chuck met George at the local pub regularly.

Chuck took a swig of his beer. “George, I did some research and found out the ghost ranch has been vacant more than ten years. And you were right; the previous owners got starved out by the drought.”

George remembered the drought some years back. “About twelve years ago, there was a horrible drought out here. No doubt they held on as long as they could. Too bad, because they might’ve been able to do something else with the land.”

Chuck found that hard to believe. “With that piece of dried-up space? Whatever could they do with it?”

“For one thing, they could have tried to drill for oil.”

Chuck straightened up. “Are you kidding me? There’s oil out there?”

George matter-of-factly remarked, “Well, it’s outside the normal drilling areas, but it’s a possibility.”

Chuck noticed a young couple come in and take the booth behind him.

George lowered his voice, leaned forward in the booth, and started drawing on the napkin. “It’s kind of exciting. I believe there is a good possibility that oil reserves could be in that region. If there is oil, I bet I could find it.”

Chuck’s voice cracked with excitement. “Oil? Are you kidding me?”

A defensive looked crossed George’s face. Chuck had attacked his professional knowledge. “No, I am not kidding. I’m sure if I could get a core sample, I’d find hydrocarbons in layers of rock beneath the surface.”

Chuck frowned. “I’m no oilman, so that doesn’t mean anything to me. Is that good?”

“Oh, it’s very good.” George chuckled and then got serious. “I’d need to check porosity. That’s a measure of the openings in a rock in which petroleum can exist. They’re tiny openings in the rocks called pores. Reservoir rock must also be permeable, meaning the pores must be connected somehow so hydrocarbons can move and flow from one pore to another.”

Chuck wanted to know more. “You say you need to get a core sample. How does that happen?”

George’s chewed-up pencil made little circles on the napkin. “When you think there’s oil, you get a core sample. That’s how you find out whether or not the oil is worth drilling for.”

Chuck thought he understood. “So now you’re talking about the grade of oil, right? How you can tell if it’s good.”

George leaned back and clenched his hands behind his head, stretching. “I don’t know if I told you before, but I did that kind of work for years with Scandinavian Oil. Then they laid me off, and I was out of work for so long I retired. That’s why I sit in this bar almost every night. I have nothing better to do.” The tempo in George’s voice picked up from excitement. “But if the samples are good, the next step is the actual drilling. Then I could test ‘cuttings’ for the presence of oil.”

The waitress slapped their tab on the table, and Chuck got out his wallet.

“Hey, George, I believe you know what you’re doing. You might have something.”

George grinned and smoothed out his napkin. “You’ve got to have mineral rights before you can drill for oil.”

Chuck laughed a little more loudly than he intended. “I sure wouldn’t want to buy it and find out there’s no oil. As much as I love to camp out there, I really don’t want acres of worthless, waterless cattle range. The only reason anyone would buy it is because of oil on the property. If only…”

George nodded. “Yeah I know, I know. That’s the big risk in the oil business. You buy the mineral rights before you know whether there is any oil. There is one other thing.”

Chuck looked George directly in the eye. “Only one?”

“You never know about the quality of an oil find until you drill. I mean, you actually have to drill before you can know whether it’s any good or not. See this?” He turned the napkin toward Chuck. “This is what you have to do.”

Chuck’s mind raced. No one else wants this property in the middle of nowhere.

But is the property even for sale? Who could I talk to about it? Chuck felt a sense of urgency. Is this the chance I’ve been waiting for? Has my luck finally turned? He had heard of gold fever. Is there such a thing as oil fever?

If so, Chuck had a terminal case of oil fever.

***

After an enjoyable week of shopping in Paris, Lyza had returned home. She rode with Leesa to the Lane building in downtown Los Angeles. The flight home failed to provide the needed sleep Lyza craved. Paris was fun, but now it’s time to get back to work. I’ve reviewed my notes since five o’clock this morning. This time I can honestly say I’m ready for the briefing. I hate Leesa’s Monday morning meetings. Father made a point of telling us he was taking over this one; I can only guess what he is up to. Just look at her, she loves these meetings. Oh, what am I thinking? She loves everything.

The meeting began sharply at seven o’clock with coffee and pastries available. Fifteen commercial real estate agents filled the room, mostly men. Leesa and Lyza sat at the end of the long conference table, furthest from their father. Lyza studied her father to see if he was in a good mood. A serious-looking man with more black than gray hair, Lawrence Lane’s five foot ten stocky frame commanded attention when he stood to open the meeting.

“Good morning, everyone. I hope you’re not too disappointed to see me standing here instead of Leesa. I usurped her usual Monday morning meeting so I could have a personal word with you and to make some announcements.”

Having grabbed everyone’s attention, Lawrence sat down. Opening a thick file folder, he pulled out a small stack of about twenty sheets. “As you know, L. L. Lane Unlimited is an unusual business. It’s a family-owned conglomerate involved in many aspects of the business world, and real estate comprises only a piece of the pie. I will grant it’s been one of the most fun and rewarding pieces, and Lyza and Leesa both seem to love real estate. However, my goal continues in seeing all aspects of the business succeed. I’ll be getting more involved in those other aspects. So I’ll start by talking globally and narrow it to our office.”

Several agents leaned forward and began taking notes.

“Recent changes in international banking laws have created interesting opportunities. Just as the Rothschild family took advantage of opportunities that presented themselves in the past, we intend to take advantage of the current situation. Therefore, I will continue focusing on international banking and financial markets, only now more than ever. Lyza, Leesa, and Bill can work out the details and inform you as to upcoming changes in policy that will affect your quotas and bonuses.”

One of the agents raised his hand. “Mr. Lane, does that mean you are leaving the real estate side of L. L. Lane Unlimited?”

Lyza knew her father wouldn’t.

Lawrence pointed at the chart on the wall. “You know better than that. I’ll always be part of the real estate side. Now let’s take a look at a rundown of the current commercial listings. Several billion dollars in revenue are hanging out there just waiting for you guys to bring it in. The financial side needs cash to invest.”

One of the agents pointed at the chart. “But, sir, sometimes deals like these take years to bring to fruition. No disrespect, sir, but this looks like an unrealistic goal.”

Lyza cringed and looked over at Leesa. Father never took criticism well.

Before Lawrence could respond, another agent interjected, “Achieving unrealistic goals is what made L. L. Lane Unlimited the conglomerate it is today.”

Lawrence nodded toward the chart on the wall. “Now let’s talk about how we can get these numbers up. It’s all about the bottom line, and every one of you knows it. Leesa closed a local deal that bumped up the number on the bottom line this quarter. Lyza closed a terrific deal in Germany, making us a seventy-five million dollar profit. Let’s give her a hand.”

He started clapping his hands, and slowly, obediently, all the agents in the room followed. Leesa’s face flushed as she joined the applause.

Lyza beamed. Hey, when Bill handed out the leads, Leesa turned that one down. It’s not my fault Leesa didn’t get it. I grabbed it as soon as I saw she rejected it.

“If my daughters can work deals like this, I expect you guys can do as well. I want you to show me. Prove it to me. Now, get out there and show me some action.”

Lyza agreed. Right, Father, I’d like to see any one of these guys sell as well as I do.

Lawrence left the room.

Lyza headed over to Bill just as he made it to the door. “You got anything you think I might be interested in? Get me something like that last one. Seriously, I’m interested in getting started on something ASAP.”

Leesa looked up. “Well, I’m sure you would.” She stood up. “By the way, Bill, I work here, too.” She turned on her heel and nearly sprinted toward her office.

Lyza left Bill standing alone in the conference room and trailed Leesa down the hall. “Leesa, wait a minute.”

Leesa stopped abruptly, put her hands on her hips, and turned around. “Sure, what do you need?”

“What do I need?” Lyza repeated. “Leesa, I can’t help what Father says. You know that as well as I do. Anyway, you had the same option I had on the Nuremberg property. You didn’t want it. Remember?”

Leesa folded her arms. “So?”

Lyza walked toward her. “So why are you angry at me for a deal you turned down that I picked up and made work? No one in this world has any control over what comes out of Father’s mouth. You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad.”

A grin played at the corners of Leesa’s mouth, and her shoulders relaxed. “How can I be mad when you put it like that? It hurt. You know I did my job, too, Lyza.” Leesa swallowed hard. “Why does he always manage to make me feel like I’m not as good at anything as you are? I thought he was retiring.”

“He will, eventually.” Lyza put her arm around Leesa. “Until then, we have to put up with him.”

Bill walked toward them with a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Look, it’s not much, but here are a few leads. There’s nothing like Nuremberg right now; perhaps next week. I’ll keep both of you posted.” Lord help me. It’s bad enough trying to balance Lawrence and the twins. Now I guess I’m going to learn to juggle.

Glad to get the Monday morning meeting over, Lyza tried to adjust her attitude about being back at work and helped Leesa divide the sheaf of paper Bill had handed them. Lyza and Leesa walked down the hall together, then split at the elevator to enter their separate offices.

***

As Leesa stepped into her office, she flipped through the listings to see whether anything looked like something she could sell quickly. The abandoned mining operation in Utah didn’t impress her. Five thousand acres in Wyoming might as well have been in Antarctica, as far as she was concerned. A five-story apartment building in lower downtown Chicago—no way would she work that one. Nothing looked good to her. Then she remembered what Lyza said, the part about her turning down the Nuremberg deal. That hadn’t looked good to Leesa, either, but Lyza had done so well with it. Maybe I should hold on to these for a while. I need to think about all of them. I don’t have to do better than Lyza. I’d like to do as well. If I could just find something I could be passionate about.

***

In her office just across the hall, Lyza slapped the sheaf of papers down on her desk. What a bunch of garbage this is! I refuse to even look at these until I’ve had another cup of coffee. She padded down the hall to the break room and ran into Bill.

He poured his cup of coffee and moved out of her way. “What did you think of those leads I gave you?”

Lyza didn’t want to chat. Still irritated at having to apologize to Leesa for something she did right, and nursing a bit of a hangover, she snapped, “Really, Bill, give me a break. I just got back from Germany, turned around, and went to Paris for the week. They’re sitting on my desk. They haven’t gone anywhere. We’ve been out of our meeting for five minutes. Can I wait until I clear my head before going through them? Will that work for you?”

He shrugged and filled his cup. “Okay—just making conversation.”

Lyza added extra sugar to her cup before filling it. “I’m not up for chatting. Coffee I need; conversation, not so much.”

Bill paused as he exited the doorway. “You had a good day today, Lyza. There’s no reason to shoot yourself in the foot.”

Lyza frowned. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, Bill. I don’t care if you were here from the beginning; you don’t talk that way to me.”

Bill stood just outside the door, held his cup, and stirred. “Exactly. I was here from day one. I worked beside your mother and father from the first day this business started, and I can tell you this: There’s no room for ego. We’re all working for the same goal here.”

She stepped past him into the hall and turned to go to her office, spilling a few drops from her cup. “I am, for sure; sometimes I wonder about you.”

***

Chuck O’Malley was on a mission. The midday sun glared down on the hood of the rented four-by-four. He ran his hand through his salt and pepper gray strands and replaced his weathered straw hat as he bounced along the rutted country road of the Australian bush. Neither the heat nor the three hundred miles of bad or no road deterred him.

If I hadn’t found a place to rent a four-by-four this morning, I never would have made it before dark. George isn’t the only bush pilot around. Who could have known I would find a pilot from Moomba? Talk about remote. The guy knew right where to land for someone to rent a vehicle. I needed to come alone this time. It’s just over that rise, and then I can get a full view of the property.

He took a swig from his water bottle and glanced back at the containers of extra fuel in the back. He had also packed extra rations and water. I’ve got a decision to make.

This is going to take every bit of my 401K, inheritance, and whatever else I can come up with, but if my hunch is right, it’ll be worth it. The Land Rover chugged over the short summit and came to a full stop. O’Malley surveyed the shallow valley below with his field glasses. He scrutinized the abandoned ranch. Thick silence surrounded him. A hay barn leaned to one side. A few trees nearly blocked the view of familiar buildings. He felt like a trespasser, infringing on someone else’s property. The description fit.

GPS coordinates confirmed he was in the right place. The long view across to the horizon was breathtaking, and the dried-up grazing property accompanying those old buildings afforded a view of the inland of the continent to die for. Suddenly his mission became urgent. Has someone else already seen this place and decided that they want it? That’s just crazy.

This could be my chance to get out before I die in my cubicle at IBM systems in Brisbane. This property might be my last chance.

Chuck O’Malley wouldn’t admit that he owned as much greed as the next man, and yes, he did love the property with the stupendous view. Spending time there the few nights with George were the best times he remembered having since leaving the U.S. The property had been a cattle station. Chuck had no interest in ranching, much too labor-intensive. His true interests lay below the surface.

His mind raced. I might be able to get enough money to buy the place as-is. Then they could drill. But then there’s the nagging question: What if I buy the land, and they drill and find no oil? What then? Then I’ll be stuck with a worthless wasteland far from civilization.

He continued arguing with himself. I mean, there’s nothing else to do with this place. It failed as a cattle station because of the lack of water. I will have sunk every dime into an insignificant blot on a map of the Australian bush. I will have lost everything I’ve worked a lifetime to save.

What if I drilled first? The nearest neighbor is more than a day’s drive. Who would know? I wonder if George would go along with it. Do I dare bring up the idea of drilling to find out if there is oil? No way. I know George. He would never go along with a plan like that. George is way too honest and law-abiding to get into something like that. However…

An idea flashed out of nowhere, the answer emblazoned in his mind: What if George thought I owned the place? He’s content with his life as it is, and he really has no stake in this. Besides, Chuck rationalized, the less he knows, the better it will be for him. I don’t like the idea of lying to him, but it’s in his own best interest that I do. If I tell him I bought the place, he’ll help me get the drilling done. That way I’ll get what I want, and he won’t feel like he’s doing anything wrong.

Bright golden rays crossed the sky from a flaming horizon as the sun began to set. Feeling peaceful and at home with familiar surroundings, Chuck built a fire at the place where he and George had last camped. He spread out a tarp and laid his sleeping bag on it. Alone, lying on the ground, looking at a crisp, clear Milky Way, Chuck felt a sense of peace and resolve. I can do this. I can drill for oil, and George will go along with me. He’s the only one I trust to do this with. All I have to do is lie.