Free The Eden Effect by David Finchley

is a lovely town. I know it has a bank, but if I could humbly suggest, I don’t think that the Eden branch or Bendigo Bank should be the destination of that money. For a start, the manager is likely to have a heart attack, and in a small town like this, the word would go out in no time.’
    Martin has not yet thought of the logistics of actually receiving all that money. He waited and Adrian continued.
    â€˜Could I suggest a more appropriate bank? Our firm banks with Citibank, which as you know, is here in Australia, head office in Sydney. We have already made preliminary enquiries on your behalf and an account can be started for you there. It would be in complete confidence. Only the manager would be aware of it and you would deal directly with him. But please, Martin, that is a suggestion only. It is your money and you can bank it and deal with it, whatever you please.’
    â€˜Thank you, Adrian. I appreciate your suggestion. I’m still trying to get my head around the whole thing. Can I have a day or two to think about it? I’m sure Citibank would be fine. Can I get back to you on that? By the way, are you guys staying in Australia, or heading back to the U.S?’
    â€˜We thought we would spend two or three days in Melbourne before we go home,’ Adrian replied.
    â€˜We are staying at the Westin. You can reach us there. All that remains to do is get a few signatures, Martin. Arthur, you can witness and then we’re done. And we’ll get out of your hair.’
    Austin pulled out a gold Cross pen, handed it to Martin. He signed in the three spots where Austin was indicating. Martin handed the pen to Arthur who witnessed where he was shown, and handed the pen back to Austin.
    â€˜Here is your copy, Martin,’ said Austin. ‘Keep it in a safe place. We are done here. Thank you for the coffee. Remember, we are available to talk to you at any time. We would be happy to come back here if you needed us to.’
    The four men stood up, Martin and Arthur shook Adrian and Austin’s hands, intern, saw them to the front door, stood there as they got into the limo and drove off.
    â€˜Arthur, I think this calls for something stronger than a coffee. I know it’s just noon, but have you got any of that single malt you are always going on about?’
    â€˜Sure, Martin.’
    Arthur headed for his room and came back with a half full bottle of a 10-year-old Talisker. He took two glasses from the buffet and poured a generous measure of whisky into each.
    â€˜Cheers, Martin,’ he said, raising his glass.
    Martin raised his, they clicked glasses and both downed the Talisker in two long gulps.
    â€˜Arthur, consider yourself promoted. You are now my accountant. I can’t think of anyone I would trust more to advise me. Eight billion U.S, what’s that in Aussie dollars, Arthur?’
    â€˜It’s about, nine billion, give or take a few million.’
    â€˜What the fuck am I going to do with that much money, Arthur? What am I going to do with nine billion dollars? I wouldn’t know how to spend one million, let alone nine billion.’
    Martin’s voice was pleading. He looked genuinely distressed. Arthur did not reply immediately. After a pause he answered, slowly, deliberately.
    â€˜With this much money, there is almost nothing you cannot buy. You could actually buy Eden, all of it. Lock, stock and barrel.’

Martin did buy Eden. Not actually all of it and it was not Martin himself who did the buying. The money, 8 billion, 730 million was tucked away in a Citibank account which the lawyers had helped set up and which was in Martin’s sole control, although not in his name. Beyond that, Martin knew he was out of his depth. This is where Arthur came in. Newly promoted to the position of Martin’s accountant, Arthur Fromm, was back in his element. While Martin was out of his depth, Arthur felt right at home dealing with vast sums of money, although