They felt tired though relaxed after the sauna but above all were pleased to find themselves far from the cities of Europe, deep in the dark northern Finnish forests above the Arctic Circle in a log cabin with its simple but homely comforts.
Settled down in the curious armchairs fashioned out of elk horns and covered with reindeer skins, they sat around a log fire, eating their evening meal that consisted of thick sausages grilled on long slivers of wood, prised off the logs stacked by the fireplace, drinking beer from the bottles.
The conversation had drifted into a subject of common interest, a meandering philosophical discussion on the future of paper and its role in the world at the end of the twentieth century. Jorgen Eriksson was in full swing, waving a cigarette in his nicotine stained fingers to make a point, and holding a bottle of beer in the other hand.
‘I mean after all, what is paper? You take cultural papers for example, for texts and images, newspapers and magazines, or books, in spite of all the electronic changes around us it’s still our basic media of communication!’
‘Okay! But is it all necessary? We only use less than five percent of the information available. Information become, in a sense, an obstacle; were overwhelmed with data that ends up as a form of pollution, junk mail, email and the rest! Personally a lot of information I receive goes directly into my vertical filing system,’ replied Ennis.
They all laughed as he threw in a symbolic gesture his paper napkin into the fire, where it disappeared in an ephemeral puff of white smoke.
‘You’re right. In the past people were taught most of what they needed to know in their jobs. That’s not possible any longer, the reason is simple, the knowledge base has become too great.’
There was a pause. Eriksson flicked his cigarette ash in the direction of the fire, looking at his bottle as if to suggest it was time for another beer.
‘Today we have the possibility of being able to choose information; this gives us some control over our consumption. In spite of internet and perhaps because of it, printed matter gives us a wide variety of choice, like that we can develop our own knowledge base,’ he paused lifting the bottle to his lips.
‘Do you know for example Swedes spend more than five and a half hours a day reading, listening to the radio, or watching the television and films,’ said Jorgen. He waved his bottle in the direction of Ennis, as if it was a record to be proud of.
‘That’s fuckin normal, they’ve got sod all else to do!’ said Ennis laughing hilariously at his own sense of humour, whilst Eriksson, being a Swede, looked in a concentrated and slightly embarrassed manner at bottle he was lifting to his lips. They others joined in the laughter.
‘Sorry Jorgen,’ said Ennis, signalling by his tone that he was not at all sorry and laughed again loudly again.
Karvonen took advantage of the distraction to give his viewpoint. His heavy Finnish accent and deep voice gave the impression of reflection and seriousness to his words.
‘Yes, well, the paper making process as we know it today is relatively old, it’s only undergone relatively few major changes during its last two hundred year or so of history. Of course the production capacity and the speed of the machines have increased a hundred times.’
Ennis interrupted, ‘Sure, but is the raw material supply capable of following the demand?’
Karvonen continued, ‘I think so, the world-wide availability of conifers for paper making is of course limited, as you know this has led to a general increase in the use of hardwoods and non-wood fibres, such as sugar cane residue or straw in certain parts of the world.’
‘I know and that’s why in the last decades, the use of tropical hardwoods has developed, according to some people its increasing at a destructive rate!’
Eriksson shrugged his shoulders as if he disagreed but did not want to make a special point of it.
There was a silence, the fire flickered and cracked.
‘What about computers and all that, won’t they change demand,’ said Axelmann avoiding the subject of tropical forests, finding a point that he was familiar with.
‘No I don’t think so…but perhaps instead of thinking of the so called paperless office, maybe we should think of the less paper office, because computers continue to use a hell of a lot of paper!’ he smiled. ‘So, we think papers got a future and what’s more a good one,’ said Eriksson justifying his firm’s future.
‘The great thing is that papers made from a renewable source, wood, and for the moment there’s no substitute for many of its uses, such as toilet tissue,’ added Karvonen.
‘The Arabs get by!’ said Axelmann smirking.
Eriksson ignoring the sniggers quickly continued to avoid any further scatological remarks.
‘Besides that noble product, there’s also corrugated boxes, and printing and writing papers. I don’t have to tell you that growth is strongest in the newly industrialised nations in the Far East. When you think about it, the oldest surviving written records are Assyrian cuneiform clay tablets, about five thousand years old. It’ll be difficult to kick the habit, especially when you realise that there are papyrus in the British Museum that date back four thousand years.
‘Where some of your reports should be Jorgen!’
They all laughed again, Jorgen was becoming the whipping boy, and Ennis enjoyed that immensely, having spent many years having to listening to Nurminen’s specialists’ overblown opinions.
‘Yeah, actually it was a Frenchman, Nicholas-Louis Robert, who invented the paper making machine. He even applied for a patent in 1798,’ Ennis said pursuing the history lesson.
‘Yes, but only thirty or so paper making machines were built in the first twenty years of the nineteenth century, and they only produced a few tons of paper a day, which I suppose was a lot then,’ said Eriksson.
‘We did Jorgen, and I suppose you’ll now tell us that new machines are now producing more than two thousand tons a day.’
‘I’m glad you’ve done your homework John,’ said Eriksson rather testily.
‘I did, and a little more on some other simple facts, each of those machines is consuming as much as six thousand tons of wood, or sixty thousand trees, which is about sixty hectares a day!’ Ennis went on pissed off at the Swedes imagined superiority.
‘So what!’
‘So what! The world’s consumption is two hundred and fifty million tons a year, that’s about five hundred millions tons of wood, five million hectares of forest, equal to about one fifth of Finland’s forest and wooded land. Every five years, a forest the size of Finland disappears. Sure there’s reforestation, but is that the right direction?’ Ennis was surprised at his own vehemence.
‘That’s all that ecologist and green shit, those people don’t know what they’re talking about!’ said Eriksson disgustedly.
‘I can tell you that in Finland, the timber growing stock remained stable with intensified management and sylvaculture there’s been an enormous improvement since the sixties!’
‘Let me stop you there! I think you’re forgetting part of this has been due to draining your peat lands to make way for forestation programs,’ injected Ennis.
Eriksson shrugged, he could not deny that.
Ennis continued. ‘It’s not as rosy as you think, the pictures a little less bright when you consider the acidification of the Finnish forests, causing defoliation of trees. I read recently that some specialists reckon it’s not far from twenty percent for moderate to severe defoliation, sure that isn’t fatal, but you can’t deny that heavy pollution and defoliation are the first signs of death in the forest.’
‘Okay, let’s talk about something else,’ said Axelmann, becoming bored and irritated by the subject he knew little about.
They paused sipping their beer, looking into the fire, as if seeking answers.
‘We’ve developed a program for reforestation with the Indonesian government,’ Karvonen said slowly, waiting for their reaction.
‘A piss in the ocean, I??
?m sorry to say.’
‘Tell me John, whose side are you on anyway?’
‘I just like arguing, let’s have another beer,’ he said with a smile.
‘Good idea, it’s time for the ice hockey match anyway.’
They stood up relieved to change the subject and went to the kitchen, in search of another carton of Lapin Kulta export beer. Karvonen vastly relieved, zapped the TV for the Finnish-Swedish ice hockey derby.
They returned to Paris in excellent spirits, having achieved almost all of their objectives, with the sole exception of an agreement concerning the papermaking machine.
Brodzski met Strecker and informed him that it was all in the bag. What he did not tell him was that Axelmann was negotiating a risk policy with the French Export Insurance Agency, which would guaranty cover against financial loss related to the project development costs, in Papcon’s favour, if for some reason the project did not go ahead.
With the insurance cover Papcon could raise fresh funds from its banks and notably from Banque de Berne, guaranteed by the policy, which covered the costs in the case of loss. If the project went ahead the costs were simply added to the contract price, and the banks were reimbursed.
Brodzski, with the financial input from the consortium plus the funds de Berne would advance against the insurance policy, could count on several millions of dollars to fund Papcon’s expenses, for all the phases of the work up to signature of the contract, without ever having to put his hand in his own pocket.
Brodzski promptly voted himself a rise in salary and not being a selfish man in money matters, did the same for Ennis and Axelmann, with a substantial boosting of expenses available for travel and entertaining.
That evening they celebrated their success with an extravagant dinner, at one of the most exclusive restaurants in Paris, Taillevent. Their exuberance was only slightly damped by Brodzski’s monologue, reliving his past successes and expounded his theories on business and politics.
After dinner Brodzski left the two younger men, who continued their evening at La Place, a private late night disco and drinking club, where they could breathe freely and relax after the pressure of the day. Eying the girls on the disco floor, they discussed the events of the last days and both came to the conclusion that age was beginning to show signs of catching up on Brodzski. His faux pas, exaggerations and endless monologues seemed to be dangerously on the increase. To them he was old and they had started to envisage his retirement, which they reasoned could not be that far into the future.
They acknowledged that Brodzski was excellent at the Paris end. But they would have to limit his exposure to the no-nonsense Finns who would soon they would joined by a German group. It was becoming complicated and required careful handling, making sure that each and every partner and business associate was happy.
Klienner Industrie Anlagen was Germany’s electrical giant; besides washing machines and household goods, they built power-generating plant for industry and were amongst the world’s leaders. The whole Barito forest complex would require an eighty-megawatt electrical power generation plant that was equivalent to supplying a modern town of a quarter of a million inhabitants.
The consortium needed to spread the project risk, industrially and financially, to satisfy the French financial institutions, as well as to enhance their credibility as a truly international consortium. Klienner Industrie Anlagen, whose knowledge and success in Indonesia were irrefutable, would be an ideal partner.
Edouard Michel was Klienner’s engineering business manager in France. He was based in their Paris branch office not far from Brodzski’s own address. Michel was well known in the industry, a sober and attentive executive. He was always alert, on the look out for new opportunities, especially in the field of large projects, which were favoured by European governments, who backed them with highly attractive financial packages, and by doing so indirectly supported their national engineering industries.
When Brodzski called, inviting Michel over to his office, who was only too pleased to hurry over. When he was told of the consortium line up, there and then he called the firm’s headquarters at Stuttgart, Germany. They immediately agreed that Heinz Reinbold, their specialist, in that field fly into Paris the following Monday morning for discussions.
Reinbold was an old hand in large international construction projects. He had a very philosophical and pragmatic approach to business, based on the concept that if he was not present he could never be successful, and in any case, even if he was present, he could not win all the time.
His favourite pastime was reciting the latest limerick from his large repertory as he smoked a Sobrane, his favourite brand of Turkish cigarettes, a habit he had acquired during his long stays in Iran and the Middle East for Klienner. He was fifty years old, but Ennis would not have given him more than forty.
As with the Finns, Reinbold could not take major decisions anticipating the approval of his board. However it was not the practice of Klienner Industrie Anlagen to pay project development costs, other than those of its own organisation, but in view of the consortium line up, he saw there was an exceptional opportunity, and undeniably the consortium was starting to look very convincing.
FAMILY BUSINESS