‘I just called to ask if you could come to the office tomorrow at 7.30 a.m.?’ Neel said.
‘Huh? Yes, sure.’
‘I can brief you on the Philippines deal. Better we talk about it before everyone arrives.’
‘Of course,’ I said.‘El Casa Seaplane and Resorts,’ I read the tasteful aquamarine-coloured cover of a brochure Neel
handed to me.
He took a sip of his black coffee and put the cup aside. He played with one of his blue
sapphire cufflinks as he spoke to me. ‘You know much about the Philippines?’
‘One of the Southeast Asian countries, right?’
‘Yeah. Seven thousand-plus islands. Couple of main ones though. Manila is the capital.’
‘Okay,’ I said. I took notes in my notebook.
‘The company is El Casa Seaplane and Resorts. They borrowed too much. Business
nosedived due to a cyclone. Trouble. Hence at our desk.’
I scribbled down whatever I could. Neel continued to speak.
‘Palawan is in the south of the Philippines. Often voted as one of the most beautiful islands in
the world.’
‘Sure,’ I said, jotting down at a frantic pace.
‘Around Palawan there are tiny, super-exclusive, privately owned islands. El Casa operates
ten resorts, each on one of these private mini-islands.’
I flipped through the brochure. It had stunning aerial pictures of the boutique tropical island
resorts. The brochure said that none of El Casa’s resorts had more than ten rooms.
‘It says rooms are 1,000 dollars a night,’ I said, surprised.
Neel smiled.
‘Yes, so it is mostly super-rich foreign tourists. Locals can’t afford it.’
‘How does one even get there?’ I said.
‘You fly from Manila to Palawan, and then take one of the company seaplanes to the resorts.’
‘Expensive operation,’ I said.
‘Yes. So when business takes a nosedive it gets really tough,’ Neel said.
Neel told me that Typhoon Haiyan, one of the deadliest tropical cyclones, had hit the
Philippines last year. It had left thousands dead. The country had still not recovered from it. High-end
tourists still avoided the Philippines, making El Casa suffer. I took notes as Neel continued to talk.
‘Owner is Marcos Sereno. Fifty years old, first generation, liquor baron. Tough businessman,
respected in the community. El Casa is a passion project for him. So he is touchy about the world
finding out it failed.’
‘You have the financials?’ I said.
Neel slid a five-inch-thick set of documents towards me.
‘This contains everything. The existing lending banks want to get out. Marcos wants to
cooperate, as long as his reputation stays intact.’
‘Understood,’ I said. ‘I will go through all this.’
‘Good. And let’s go to Palawan next week and meet Marcos.’