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As a way of disconnecting during the more than four hour long trip, Reyes looked around. Seated next to him was a thirty-something man reading the paper. Reyes observed the man discreetly. He wanted to have a pleasant chat to help pass the time. What the hell, even if he’s an uninteresting bore, at least it will help me forget about ships for a while, thought Reyes.
Then he noticed his seatmate had a garment bag with the Navy’s coat of arms. He looked at it again. He probably looked older than what he actually was and he had the permanent dark circles under his eyes of someone who has spent years standing watch. His hair was short and he was meticulously clean shaven, shirt, chinos and boat shoes. Something about his gaze and the way his brow was furrowed gave the impression he was someone used to making decisions. In fact, he exuded self confidence. Everything indicated he was a Navy Officer. All that from just a look? Why, of course. There are things one learns to notice with experience.
“Are you a seaman?”
The man closed his newspaper and looked at him surprised but not upset.
“Huh? Yes.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve always been fascinated by your line of work. Where are you going?”
There’s no better way to strike up a conversation than by complimenting someone.
“Oh, no worries,” he said. “It’s nice to know someone appreciates what we do. Right now I’m the captain of the patrol boat Tabarca.
If he was not mistaken, Tabarca was a small, old patrol boat one of the last in a class where most had been decommissioned. However, the captain was a Navy Lieutenant (which would rank him as an Army Captain) and very few of that rank commanded ships. He must have been very good.
Reyes decided to lighten up the conversation to break the ice.
“What did you lose in Madrid? I doubt you ran your ship into the Manzanares River.”
The Lieutenant smiled.
“No, I’m coming back from a court case.”
Gauging from the way he answered, Reyes could tell the Lieutenant didn’t want to talk about it. If he had to bring his uniform along it was probably official business and more than likely unpleasant. But his smile indicated that he was willing to talk so Reyes decided to continue chatting.
By the time they were passing Cordoba, Reyes found out that Nacho Marzаn Febles, was born 34 years before in Cartagena. His father was a retired Rear Admiral and his mother was a housewife. He was the second oldest of five brothers, of which the oldest was also a seaman. He was happily married and had two young daughters. He was going to Cadiz for personal reasons (his ship was in Marin, Pontevedra). To be exact, he was taking advantage that he had gone to Madrid to visit his father who had just had surgery, thank God, successfully.
Nacho turned out to be the perfect seatmate. They were having quite an enjoyable and pleasant conversation. Up until now Reyes had managed to avoid talking about his work. But he knew that wouldn’t last until they reached Cadiz. Finally Nacho asked him, “So, what do you do?”
Reyes wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it but deep down he was curious to get an objective opinion. Besides, he thought, none of what we’re doing is a big secret and, who knows? Maybe he’ll have something useful to contribute.
So he decided to tell Nacho about his project, sparing no details, ending with this trip and the possible reward waiting for him.
When he heard the story Nacho’s eyes opened wide in amazement and he asked Reyes if he was really thinking about getting a BAM and if it was really possible. After Reyes convinced him it was true, but also making sure he highlighted that nothing was sure, Nacho got lost in thought a few minutes.
After he thought in silence for a while he congratulated Reyes on his plan and his luck. He also said he agreed with the strategy and, being a practical man, he asked an obviously logical question, “What about the crew?”
Reyes decided he was starting to really like this guy and decided to be upfront with him.
“I have nothing yet.”
Afterwards, he explained his approach and Nacho nodded in agreement. But when Reyes told him about how he was going about finding a captain, he smiled and shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Reyes asked puzzled.
“Are you really going to find the man who’s going to lead a group of strangers on a new and dangerous enterprise by just looking at some papers? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but probably ninety percent of the success of this plan depends on your selection. And you aren’t even going to meet the guy before you hire him?
Even though Reyes didn’t like his work being criticized, deep down he knew Nacho was probably right.
“What do you suggest? So far I haven’t been able to find a candidate that’s even worth interviewing,” he said defending himself.
Nacho smiled and became pensive.
“Maybe when you find out who it is you will say it’s favoritism, but I think I know someone that might interest you.”
“Who are you talking about?” Reyes asked his curiosity piqued.
“My little brother is a Merchant Marine Officer. He doesn’t have specific experience but he’s always been very linked with the military field. In fact the reason he’s not in the Navy is because he’s always been an adventure seeker, and the Navy was never challenging enough for him. He’s in Cadiz right now, and unemployed. If you’re interested, I can call him and you can have a beer together. If you don’t want to feel obligated, I don’t have to tell him you’re looking to hire someone.
It had been difficult for Reyes to step back into his professional self, but once he got past it he thought about the proposal carefully.
What had impressed him initially was the way in which Nacho had proposed the idea. Anyone else would have overwhelmed him trying to get a job for their brother. But this guy seemed to be merely proposing a solution to his problem notwithstanding the benefit to his family member.
Reyes decided to accept. After all, he had nothing to lose.
#
“Good morning Mr. Reyes. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Good morning Mr. Guerra. It’s nice to meet you too.”
At 56 years old, Miguel Guerra Mеndez was the manager of the shipbuilding company Navantia, formerly Izar and Bazаn. Reyes hadn’t heard much about him. All he knew was that Guerra was a naval engineer who had developed his career within the company.
That, thought Reyes, could be very good or very bad. He could be a man who knew his business inside and out (from the engineer’s point of view) and who had learned from experience exactly what the company needed. Or it could be that the man’s lack of experience as a businessman would eventually catch up with him.
Reyes was hoping that whatever it was it would help him accomplish his goal.
“I hope you had a nice trip over from Madrid,” Guerra said.
Why did he get the impression that all the conversations that were going to have an impact on his future began the same way? Nobody really cared how his trip had been. It was just a simple way to break the ice.
“It was good, very good. The trains keep getting better.”
“That’s true,” the manager agreed, suggesting he also often traveled to Madrid.
He’s not comfortable, Reyes thought. He seems to be playing a role he doesn’t like. Something told him that Guerra was more at home with his plans and models than with negotiations and financial affairs. And probably politics didn’t appeal to him much either.
It looked like the typical case of an executive almost running a business into the ground and then abandoning it, thus forcing the company to find a replacement. The company, leery of entrepreneurs and strangers places one of their own in charge. Maybe Guerra was the most qualified for the job, but he still didn’t seem comfortable in the position.
This is going to be interesting, thought Reyes.
“Well, Mr. Guerra, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” he said.
A practical man would appreciate that subtlety.
“The man I represent,” he continued, “Mr. Friedrich Gotthelf, is interested in acquiring a ship with similar characteristics to a BAM. His starting offer is sixty million Euros. For anything above that amount I will have to consult with him and get his approval.
After thinking about it the night before, this strategy seemed to be the best. He was offering a fairly low price, like any good haggler, but not so low as to discourage negotiation. In addition, when playing the card of needing Mr. Gotthelf’s authorization he gained valuable time to study their counteroffer and plan his response accordingly. It really was all bluff. He virtually had carte blanche to negotiate.
“I’m glad to see you don’t like beating around the bush. However, I must tell you that I can’t accept your offer. With what you’re offering I can scrap the ships, sell them for parts and get more out of them.”
This is going to be interesting, thought Reyes. Guerra was not a fool. He knew how to negotiate and probably thought, if he didn’t already know for sure, that it was practically the only chance Gotthelf had for carrying out his innovative project.
After a long morning of negotiations, offers and counter offers, make-believe calls to Switzerland and tedious renegotiation, the two men reached an agreement over ninety million Euros. Reyes knew that Gotthelf would not have minded paying double that amount, but that was no reason to throw money away.
In addition, throughout the morning a light bulb had gone off in his head and he had added a condition to his requirements. The final agreement included the use of the shipyards for whatever small remodeling work he thought necessary. Reyes knew that for the Spanish company that was the only way to keep many of its employees working and not have to resort to laying them off. While for him, it was the solution for another small problem. He had not only acquired a boat, but also the means and staff better qualified to finish it according to his specifications.
Excited, he called Mr. Gotthelf (this time for real) to give him the good news. He seemed delighted and congratulated him on his progress. He also informed him that contacts with the Somali government remained satisfactory and that Egger had recommended that the ship navigate under a Somali flag to avoid problems and facilitate some legal aspects. Reyes had no objections to the idea. In the world of merchant shipping it was not unusual to sail under flags that had nothing to do with the nationality of the company, the owner, the captain, or home port.
Lastly, Mr. Gotthelf gave him a responsibility he had not anticipated.
“Well, Mr. Reyes, you found the boat, you may have the honor of naming it.”
That was something Reyes had not anticipated. He could not help but smile at the thought of how something that seemed so trivial would probably take him just as long to do as some of the major tasks.
Once back with Guerra, he decided to tackle what seemed to be the last hurdle.
“Mr. Guerra, up until now you and I have reached an agreement on a ship that your company has built. However, that ship is riddled with technology developed in cooperation with the government. Do you have some sort of plan to get a permit for selling it to private buyers?”
Guerra smiled with the air of someone who’s already thinking three steps ahead.
“Let’s just say that bridge’s is already been crossed,” he said. “Spain can’t afford to lose its only military shipyards nor generate thousands of layoffs. I have obtained permission to sell the technology on the condition that it will never be used against Spain or any of its allies. If so, the sales contract would be immediately revoked without possibility of a refund.”
Reyes could not ask for more.
“I just have to ask you,” the engineer said, “to give your project some positive publicity. It won’t hurt, and let’s just say the government would like its citizens to know that the technology that has been developed with everyone’s money is going to be used to do good.”
And that was not a very indirect way of saying that the government wanted to make sure they had public opinion on their side.
Reyes knew that Guerra was right, and that some publicity was certainly not going to do them any harm. He imagined the government would present this sale as an excellent way out of a somewhat complicated situation. As far as he was concerned, he knew exactly who he had to call to get a couple of pages in a national newspaper. Inflow of foreign capital, generating and maintaining jobs, and the possible eradication of damages inflicted on innocent people by evil pirates, were the perfect arguments to convince anyone.
“Splendid Mr. Guerra! It has been a pleasure doing business with you. In a few days you will hear from me with the modifications I have in mind.”
And with that, Reyes said goodbye, looking forward to an afternoon off to celebrate the strides his project had taken.
Then he remembered he had an appointment.
#
Pablo Marzаn Febles’ phone rang.
“It’s Nacho,” he told his brother Javi before answering.
“What’s up Nacho?”
After listening for a couple of minutes he replied, “All right, I’ll be right there.”
After putting his phone away he looked up and met the quizzical look of his older brother.
“He wants me to meet someone. He didn’t tell me who it is or what he wants but he hinted at maybe having a job for me. Apparently they met on the train,” he said, making a face to indicate he didn’t know what to make of it all.
Pablo watched his brother carefully. He had always been a role model and a source of good advice. Even then, at thirty-three years old, sitting on the sofa in his older brother’s living room and drinking coffee after the amazing dinner they had just had, Pablo was surprised at the influence Javi had on his life.
The oldest of the Marzаn Febles brothers was thirty-nine; married, with three kids. He had become a Navy officer following his father’s footsteps. He was already a lieutenant commander and was assigned as a teacher at the nearby NCO School in San Fernando.
He had always had great drive and enthusiasm for his work, but over the years he had become disillusioned with it. The lack of real-life operations and the enormous political restrictions on the ones that had taken place had disappointed him. Besides, he had discovered a second passion: teaching, which he was doing at present. Having a family also played a part in the fact that now he only asked assignments on ships as commanding officer or to meet the minimum years of embarkation required for promotion.
From what Pablo knew and had heard, his older brother was really good at his job and truly believed in the Navy, but not in how it was used. When the youngest boy was a teenager, Javi’s influence, even more than that of his father, had made him want to enroll in the Naval Academy, the training center of naval officers. However, some comments from his brother and idol disconcerted him and he had decided to talk to him.
He could still remember every detail of that long chat. His brother had not been long out of school, but was beginning to realize that it had not been exactly what he had expected. It’s not that he regretted his choice because he had always wanted to serve Spain, but he also knew that his chosen career would have very frustrating moments.
As the responsible, older brother he had wanted to convey all this to young Pablo in that conversation. He never discouraged or tried to influence his decision. No one better than he knew that the military offered economic security, albeit not luxurious, but it was something to be thankful for. It also provided opportunities to travel and to live quite unique experiences. And he never criticized. He devoted himself to show Pablo objectively all those things that only could be seen from the inside.
But that was enough for young Pablo. He knew it wouldn’t have discouraged the others, like his brother Nacho, the second of the five, who also eventually followed in his father’s footsteps. But Pablo was different. He always had a need to try new things and feel useful. Maybe even be special, though that may have been the result of being the youngest of five brothers.
Because of all that Pablo had made the decision to become a merchant marine. He had done his research and had learned that there was more to it than just taking ocean liners across the seas. It would allow him to keep in contact with the sea, which fascinated him so much, and would open the doors to adventures he only dreamed of having.
Even after all these years, he often relived in his mind the day he decided to join the Merchant Navy and not the Navy. And yet, there were days when he wondered if he had made the right choice.
Like all careers, his also had its ups and downs. He had done it all. Fishing and transport, sailing and motor, routine routes like the Ceuta Ferry, which he had become bored with, and amazing navigation such as the one around Cape Horn on a 130 foot double mast sailing yacht.
Had it been worth it? Maybe he’d never know. Did the incomparable experience of going around Cape Horn on a sailing yacht make up for all the time he had been unemployed, or had a horrible job? Fortunately, with time and experience he had carved himself a small niche in the world and it wasn’t hard for him to find work.
He knew what his parents would have preferred. He also knew that no one in his family would be proud of him if they knew some of the things he had to do. There were times he had been well aware of the illegality of actions that he had deemed necessary to take in order to fulfill some contracts. Of course, he himself cringed when he recalled the trucks going off into the darkness. Truckloads of packages labeled “FRAGILE” that had been unloaded on the beach just a few minutes before from the ship under his command. Furniture? Jewelry? Exotic animals? He was sure they weren’t drugs, but that didn’t ease the shame of the memory. Coldly considering it, the adventure of approaching a beach at night, everything turned off, was unique. But it wasn’t exactly one of the qualifications that were required from an officer or captain.
Sometimes he couldn’t help thinking he'd imagined a life as a sailor too fantastic and impossible to fulfill. A life based on books with storylines from the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century. Pablo smiled to himself. Javi had also been the one who had introduced him to the books he loved.
While he got lost in his memories, his brother seemed to have been thinking about Nacho’s call, and just limited himself to point out that he had nothing to lose.
Pablo knew that his older brother, as always, was right. After thanking him for the invitation to dinner - it was funny how their frequency increased when he was out of work - he left with the very faint hope that the stranger who Nacho wanted to introduce him to had something interesting to offer. Although he may have quit some jobs out of sheer boredom, he couldn’t stand being out of work.
#
“Reyes, this is my brother Pablo. Pablo, this is Jaime Reyes Luzоn.”
Nacho had chosen the bar Terraza with its tables right in the Cadiz Plaza de la Catedral. The three sat down and each ordered a beer.
Nacho, having arranged the meeting, began the conversation.
“Reyes has an interesting project that he was telling me about on the train. I gave him my opinion, but when he learned I had a brother in the Merchant Navy he wanted to meet you to find out where we differ.”
Reyes needed no further introduction and explained his plan in detail to the young seaman. He intentionally left out the part about the crew. Pablo just nodded and asked a couple of specific questions. When Reyes finished his story, Pablo fell into a long silence. Then he broke it to say, “I think it’s a great idea, but it has a couple of weak points. First, the crew; for what you are proposing you will need professionals and those can only be found in the Navy,” he said nodding to Nacho.
“Second, the legal aspect; you have not yet said anything about how you intend to obtain permits to operate in Somali waters.”
Reyes nodded in agreement.
