Free The Affair by Bunty Avieson Page B

names. Possibly not much.He remembered his friend’s awe at the luxurious surroundings and the well-known people in the room. But Felix didn’t remember him asking too many questions. Felix felt guilty. He was the finance expert. He should have made sure James understood exactly what he was getting into.
    ‘Lloyd’s insure against the likelihood of something happening. They figure out the risk and calculate a premium accordingly. The odds against half of the state of South Carolina being blown away would have been horrendous. Just as the likelihood of the Exxon Valdez tanker running aground on a reef and spilling nearly eleven million gallons of oil must have been considered pretty low.
    ‘But for reasons known only to Him, God unleashed His fury and they happened and the Piper Alpha oil rig fire happened as well as a host of other disasters in a short space of time and that left Lloyd’s with a whopping great bill for billions.’
    James shivered. Exxon Valdez. That definitely rang a bell. It conjured up pitiful poster images of animals covered in black slime. He remembered protesting about it afterwards in Sydney’s Botanical Gardens on a warm sunny afternoon.
    ‘How could I ever forget the Exxon Valdez oil spill? It happened in 1989, when I was in Canada. Everyone there was outraged. Nina spent hours one night explaining to me why they all were so upset. Canada is very environment conscious and at Whistler, well, the world is divided into rednecks and greenies. Thousands of otters and rare sea birds died. Just three weeks after we arrived in Australia,Nina had us marching with thousands of others through the streets of Sydney to demonstrate our outrage at Exxon. They tried to pass it off as a freak accident but the truth was it was just one of a long line of oil spills.’
    Felix raised an eyebrow.
    ‘Well, they were held accountable,’ he said. ‘They were made to clean up their mess. At a cost. Sorry to tell you, buddy boy, but that cost was borne by Lloyd’s insurers. By you.’
    The irony wasn’t lost on James. He gave a rueful smile. God had a wicked sense of humour. ‘How much am I up for, Felix? Give it to me straight.’
    Felix shook his head. ‘It’s too soon to say. Lloyd’s are still working out how much they need to pay out for these disasters. Then there’s the asbestosis – that’s going to be a corker. This is all just the tip of the iceberg. When they have worked out their sums, they will charge the relevant syndicate.’
    The syndicate. James remembered when he had heard about the syndicates. They were groups of individual investors who were placed together to underwrite specific policies. The idea of being in a syndicate with the likes of former prime minister Malcolm Fraser and British royalty such as Prince Michael of Kent had completely overawed him. He didn’t have to have any money. To join a syndicate with such people he just had to show on paper that he had assets worth $250,000 and he was in.
    He had swanned around that Sydney penthousesuite with a glass of champagne in his hand feeling like he was king of the universe. There were so many names he recognised, Baillieu and Myer, assorted CEOs of Australia’s best known companies, faces he recognised from the social pages, the business pages, even the sports pages. Only 616 Australians had been invited to join the exclusive ‘club’ and James was one of them. It was a badge of honour, like having ‘old money’ stamped on his passport.
    James remembered his pride and excitement, standing there alongside the moneyed elite. He hadn’t needed any convincing. He was ready to sign on the dotted line. And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, came the icing on the cake: he would have to fly to London to be vetted by a committee, a mere formality he was assured, and to sign the papers.
    To the young man who felt that he had failed his country and never measured up to his family, it was a heady mix. How proud his