***
Monday 3rd March 25
The G-Wagon pulled up in front of The Iron Works at around 12:30 p.m. where Jack and Callum were hovering by reception.
Markus greeted them, “Good afternoon, Callum, Mr Silva.”
Callum nervously said, “Hey, Markus,” but that was about all he could muster. They both got into the back of the car and were soon on their way to the office.
“Fancy ride,” Jack said, running his hands over the leather upholstery.
“Don’t embarrass me here, please Jack,” Callum said under his breath. They travelled in silence the rest of the way.
Callum’s stomach was in knots. He knew Julian the man, he knew every inch of Julian the man, but he was about to meet Julian the Titan, in his office, and not for a workout. All thoughts of everything they’d done there, other than the workout, were very far from his mind right now. Callum had no idea what Julian was about to say.
Callum felt as nervous in the lift as he had that first time. The doors pinged open, and Jack’s jaw hit the white marble floor as they stepped out.
“Are you kidding me?” he muttered under his breath, eyes bugging out at the panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline.
Callum guided him towards Julian’s office after a quick hello to Kerry, and they sat down in the casual chairs by the gym equipment, which Jack eyed up. “Is this where you…?”
“Yes,” said Callum, eyes fixed forward, grateful that Jack didn’t know all that had gone on there.
Julian came from his office, escorting a guy in a suit whom he passed over to Kerry. He walked towards them, looking smart in his own suit, minus the jacket. He didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to Callum and gave him a kiss, followed by shaking Jack’s hand. “Hey, Jack, good to see you again.”
“Follow me; let’s have lunch first. We have much to discuss.”
He led them towards a wing of the office Callum had never seen. It was a meeting room that doubled as a dining room. The table was set with a crisp white cloth and laid for lunch.
They ate a dish of poached salmon in a lemon butter sauce, with new potatoes and green beans, followed by a delicious freshly made mille-feuille, layers of thin puff pastry, with cream and fresh strawberries between each layer.
They chatted about the office, the views, and the issues with being in the financial district. Coffee was served, but the sense of impending discussion felt imminent.
Julian pressed a button on a remote, and the large presentation wall at the end of the room woke up. He then showed the documents his legal team had compiled, giving them both printed copies in neatly bound folders.
“The landlord is Noah Cott. You know the issues you’ve had with the sleazeball and the various complaints you’ve made that have fallen on deaf ears. Your experience isn’t dissimilar to others on the block. Four other retail units are having similar issues to you,” he pulled up a map.
“What you don’t know, though, is that he has signed a deed of intent and is gradually transferring his business into a shell company called Vanguard Realty, which is a front for Hart Estates, a developer I’ve had dealings with in the past.” Julian frowned at this point. “It seems very likely that Cott is deliberately neglecting The Iron Works and others to force either voluntary forfeiture of the lease or an eviction order. He then sells to Hart, who intends to bulldoze the lot and turn it into luxury condos.”
Jack and Callum sat open-mouthed as it was laid out in front of them. Julian looked at them both. He had surmised this would be a shock, so their reactions weren’t unexpected. He took a deep breath and continued, opening other documents in the dossier, listing businesses known to Jack and Callum, who would also need to conveniently disappear, before the whole block could be cleared for future development, city planning, etc.
He explained that his team had even identified the architect who Hart had engaged to scope designs for the condos, and the plans, clearly showing that where The Iron Works was now would in fact become the entrance to an underground car park.
“This is bang out of order. He can’t be allowed to get away with this,” Jack said angrily. He’d listened intently to all Julian had to say and held off as his anger grew.
Julian tapped the document in front of him. “With people like this, there’s little point in negotiating or trying to change their mind, Jack. Cott has dollar signs in his eyes, and he’s not going to change his plans.” He paused, taking a breath.
Here goes, Julian thought to himself, seeking Callum’s face, but found he couldn’t tell anything from his blank expression. “So, I see two ways forward. Option one: I buy the block from Cott, offering more than Hart. If I buy it outright, I can then transfer the deed of ownership to you two, and you own the title. You could then choose whether to let the other businesses stay or not. I could do this as a gift, so you’d then own the block, but most importantly, The Iron Works is secured.”
Jack’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree; Callum’s face remained blank. Julian felt even more nervous at Callum’s lack of reaction.
“Wait, you’d just... give us the building?” Jack said, incredulously.
“No, Jack, the block.” Julian clarified. Jack gulped loudly.
“Option two,” Julian continued, glancing at Callum’s face and feeling more worried.
“My legal team buries Cott in a mountain of litigation for various code violations. We force him to perform your repairs under a court order and freeze his ability to sell or develop. But this is a very painful route. It’s slower, it’ll take longer, and it means we’d have a fight on our hands that could drag out over months, even years. The outcome here is not even guaranteed, and he may still be able to wriggle out of it. It will be painful based on Cott’s unscrupulous past that my team were able to dig up.” He opened a document which listed out many illegal things Cott had done over the years, some he’d been punished for, others he appeared to have got away with.