Dam Energy: A Gem Putanto Novel

By Jeremy Figgins

Dam Energy is the second book following the life of Gem Putanto, now an enormously rich person who becomes fearful about his legacy as he matures. Dam Energy continues to look at the waste that results from corruption, how it pervades our lives and makes a few people very rich and many people very poor. But Gem Putanto gives inspiration by offering an impending energy revolution that could be on our doorstep if we re-look at our resources and share our knowledge.
Some ideas for the novel have been inspired by Jeremys friend, N Gunananthan, in his own book Energy Revolution: Evolution or End of Humanity. The central character of both King of Coal and Dam Energy, Gem Putanto, is a fictional character although the author suspects many people would like to be him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Aug 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543747591

Jeremy Figgins

Gem Putanto, the self-made Asian billionaire with a very checkered past, is in Malaysia, where he meets the gorgeous Princess Anette, who provides a new jolt to his ambitions. Through Europe and Asia, enemies plot to derail the pairs advance as they encounter politicians eager to share in the spoils. The second book in Gem Putantos trilogy looks at the real possibility of free electricity and how corruption can be turned to advantage. Gem and Anette can trust no one. Can they even trust each other? The answer is in the stunning finale to this fast-moving, thoughtful story.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

2010

Pooh Bear did it differently. He had friends to help him out of the hole. The small boy, perhaps not yet a teenager, it was hard to tell through the mud and dirt on his face and his ragged clothes, was being dragged, feet first back into the world by two large man who were not his friends. The final heave helped him from the two-foot hole that bore into the side of the mountain and he dropped onto his feet. The men steadied him as he rocked back and forward trying to get his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight.

A nylon cord attached to his waist was concealing the fruits of his labours that were behind him down the small hole. He pulled hard on the cord, each tug bringing something very heavy nearer to the surface and, eventually, a large sack emerged and fell to the muddy, wet ground. The boy was obviously exhausted but not so tired that he could not push the men away when they made a grab for the sack. It’s mine, he growled as he clutched it against his body, a fearful challenge to anyone who was thinking of taking it from him.

Yes it is, boy, let’s see what you got us. The voice that spoke came from another man who was sitting at a small table under a tarpaulin some fifty yards away, in what was relative comfort compared to the muddy, filthy conditions everyone else was enduring. Standing beside him were two more men who, unlike anyone else in the area of this makeshift camp, were wearing clean clothes and had obviously shaved and washed within the last twenty-four hours. They were silently observing the scene in front of them.

The boy responded to the seated man’s call and walked with his precious sack to the tarpaulin. He stood in front of the man at the table, waiting for his next instruction, a drill he knew well. It’s over there, the man said with a nod of his head to the left side of the tarpaulin where a huge weighing scale seemed to be beckoning the boy, its dial pointing directly downwards to zero and the shiny metal surface of the weighing platform. The boy stumbled the last few feet to the scale and gratefully dumped the sack. The dial reacted immediately, showing it weighed almost forty-five kilograms.

Very good, the seated man said, genuine in his praise. He stood up and began to walk to the boy and the scales. He was eager to see just how valuable this load might be. Now let’s see what it’s worth shall we? The man made a move for the sack, but again the boy was not going to let anyone near his sack, not even the man who was obviously in charge. He held his hand up demanding the boss to stay clear, I’ll do it, he said, his eyes showed he was quite ready to fight anyone who laid a hand on his spoils.

OK, OK the boss said, holding his hands up to show he was not going to do anything more, though the gun that was holstered against his hip still showed who had the upper hand. Go ahead, show us. You know the routine.

Without saying another word, the boy began to empty the contents of the sack with his bare hands. He took out twenty large, dark black rocks, which he carefully placed one by one on the scale. Sometimes he would inspect a rock more carefully than the others and then he would discard it by throwing it disdainfully into the jungle of trees behind the tarpaulin. Slowly the scale began to work its way back up again. At thirty-six point seven kilograms, just under eighty pounds, the sack was empty. Everyone was now looking at the boy. The boy was looking at the boss.

That’s your fifth sack today, boy. All told, you’ve earned five dollars boy, well done. Two days’ meals for you. And I’ll throw in an extra smoke as well.

The boy, however, was not impressed with the proposal. That’s good stuff, boss. Better than what I found yesterday. It’s heavier, harder to break up. There’s a week’s meals there. You know it.

The boss laughed. A week! Are you crazy, boy?

The boy stared coldly back at the boss. Crazy enough, boss, if I have to be. One week or I’m gonna quit this place and tell someone what I’ve found.

OK. The boss knew he didn’t need to fight the boy. There was, after all, enough gold ore on the scale to keep the whole camp in food for the next month, not just one boy for one week. And anyway, the boy was already showing signs that his addiction would probably kill him within a few months, so he might as well agree to the demand. One week it is. But you’re still working tomorrow.

Yes, boss, the boy said. He followed his boss over to the small wooden table and watched as he wrote out some words on a scrap of paper that he handed to the boy. The boy inspected it. What does it say boss?

What we agreed. One week’s food allowance and an extra dose of your favourite sweet for a week.

The boy looked at the boss, trying to assess whether he was being lied to. After a few moments, he stared at the clean strangers and handed one of them the paper. Does it say that? he asked.

One of the strangers took the paper and read it. Yes, he said, handing the scrap back to the boy, that’s what it says.

Now clear off before I change my mind, you cheeky sod, the boss said. Don’t you ever doubt my word. He was already out of his seat and had kicked the boy hard in the stomach before shoving him out of the tarpaulin and pushing him down a slope into the forest. Get your food and be back here in the morning, he shouted as the boy disappeared from sight, running as fast as he could from his boss’ anger.

The boss tramped back through the mud to the tarpaulin, wiping his hands on his trousers and smiling at the two strangers. It’s more fun here in the Philippines, he said with a laugh, referring to the travel slogan of his homeland. You have to admire their spirit, but if you give any of them an inch, you’d lose control of this place overnight.

Here, he said as he retrieved a piece of the rock from the scale and took it to his two guests, feel the weight of that. It’s the highest grade we’ve found. That’s what this mine’s about.

They inspected the rock, impressed by its weight. The boss continued speaking whilst they turned the rock in their hands. The ore that boy found and brought up is so rich in gold we can be one hundred times bigger than this. We need some serious equipment, which is why we need your investment.

One of the strangers looked up and asked, So how do you keep them here? How do you keep the place secret? A flick of his head indicated he was talking about the boys. The boss was about to answer when another boy-miner was escorted into the tarpaulin by two minders, just the same as the previous boy. This new arrival seemed slightly older than the first and, if anything, was even more emaciated. He looked as if he had never had a wash in his life and his eyes were zombie-like as they looked around. His black hands were caked with dirt and seemed to conceal blood where his work inside the mountain, chipping at rocks to bring to the surface, had broken his skin.

Tell you what, the boss said. Let’s go see their camp where they all sleep. You’ll have a better idea how it works that way. There’ll be a stream of our miners, he paused to make a little joke, minor miners as I call them, coming up in the next two hours. It’ll be the same routine with each. For a day’s work they earn about one day’s food, some smokes and a few pesos to put in their pocket. It’s a good arrangement for them, although there’s only one thing they can spend the pesos on round here. He inhaled on an imaginary pipe and laughed. Then he beckoned the strangers to follow him into the forest where he had hurled the boy a few moments before.

The camp was appalling. Four small huts were somehow managing to remain standing upright in a small clearing in the forest. If you did not know it was there, you would find it impossible to locate the place, which was what the mine’s owners wanted. Each hut was home to ten miner boys, the boss proudly explained. Over there, he said pointing to another tarpaulin slung between the trees, is where they rest.

In the distance under the tarpaulin, they could make out the figure of the boy miner who had just got his one week’s wage. He was drawing on a small silver pipe and puffing smoke into the air. What’s in the pipe? one of the guests asked, although he already knew the answer.

Oh, that’s what they spend their pesos on. Their sweets. It’s their fix of shabu shabu. Ice. Coke and marijuana. They’re all hooked of course, that’s what keeps them here.

Are they like that when they arrive?

Some, yes, but most are strays we pick up on the streets in Manila or one of the other cities, some are ones that parents just give us. So, we look after them all. It’s our little orphanage here in the south. The shabu shabu takes away the fear, so we can get them down the holes to mine the gold. Crawling along one of those tunnels for a few hundred metres into that mountain takes some guts. Or stupidity. Whatever. Near the end, it’s barely wider than they are. If they do get frightened, well they have to go down to be able to earn enough for their next fix anyway. The boss spoke merrily as if this was a perfectly normal business model, keeping your employees hooked on drugs so they would do their work and never work anywhere else.

We lose a few every now and then with cave ins. Had one yesterday actually. Lost a ten-year-old. Shame, he had great potential. Very small and strong. He was oblivious to the horror images he was creating in the visitors’ minds. He had been told these guests were themselves used to all sorts of mining conditions, so he assumed – wrongly – that they would find this camp and its stories quite acceptable.

Do the owners know this? The question seemed totally naïve to the boss.

Of course the owners know. One of them supplies the drugs. We all get a cut of the money from the sale of the drugs from her, so we keep it fair. It works for everyone. The boys are happy, the owners get their gold and I get a good wage for running the place. We’ve got thirty boys now but with this latest find, we have to scale up.

The visitor was so shaken by what he was seeing that he did not fully concentrate on what he was being told. He should have been listening to every word. Later, many years later, it would prove to be an expensive mistake for him, but one he would not regret, as it also allowed him to do many things he would not have done otherwise. For now, the mention of ‘investment’ was not what he had in mind. This was not a business he needed to be associated with, no matter how many millions it was due to make, and he knew it. He just needed to find a polite was of declining the opportunity and getting back to sanity.

Is there anything more you want to see, Mr …, the boss had forgotten the stranger’s name. Mr … he repeated, hoping the lead would be taken up.

Mr Putanto, the stranger said politely, Mr Gem Putanto. And, yes, I’ve seen enough already.

CHAPTER 2

Years Later, A Party

Princess Anette G Rosil was gliding across the floor, leaving one group of people feeling empty at her departure and the next group smiling with delight as she approached. She was conscious of the many glances that were thrown in her direction from all parts of the ballroom every time she moved, the women admiring her stunning gown and glittering jewelry, the men admiring her flawless good looks and surreptitiously eyeing the cleavage of her breasts. Tonight, for once, there was no jealousy or criticisms in the thoughts of her admirers, after all this was her thirty-sixth birthday party, a happy, private event for her closest circle of friends, business partners and some select VIPs. Two hundred and eight invites had been sent and not a single one had been declined.

Two men in the group who were closest to the Princess as she joined them, ceased their conversation and stood aside to make room for her in their circle. She instantly became the centre of attention as she greeted everyone by name and a kiss on each cheek. Compliments flowed on her youthful looks, her thirty-carat necklace of diamonds and rubies, her Swarovski-decorated white gown with just a hint of red and the enormous diamonds on her rings.

Thank you, thank you, the Princess said as she lapped up the admiration. She knew almost everyone in the ballroom, the exceptions being new partners of her friends who she had not yet been introduced to and a very few people that her business partners had suggested she might like to meet. The group that she was currently standing with was made up of some of her closest friends and the Princess had a special word and a warm smile for each of them.

Two hundred and eight people standing, roughly, in groups of ten meant that the Princess could give about two minutes to each group before she had to move on. This would use up forty-five minutes between the arrival time on the invite and the start of the birthday meal, allowing fifteen minutes or so for the guests to find their allotted seats at their tables. She had another two groups left to visit before she would complete her round of the room and she still had about ten minutes to do it, so she allowed herself to linger with her friends to share some gossip before finally taking her leave of them and moving on.

The Princess could sense her friends looking after her as she left them and gave a cheeky wiggle of her bottom that drew some cries of ‘So sexy!’ and peals of laughter. She giggled inwardly but was now thinking about the members of the next group. She recognised three of her business partners and their spouses, the Indonesian Ambassador to Malaysia, her country and where the party was taking place, and a strikingly handsome man who she did not know, standing next to him.

She remembered the Ambassador had called her earlier in the day to say his wife was unwell and had asked if he could bring a friend to the party instead. His friend was, apparently, a very influential and wealthy man, someone she would do well to meet. The Princess was always keen to meet rich and influential people, so she had readily agreed. Now she saw the man in the flesh, she was very happy with the Ambassador’s choice of guest for the night.

Good evening Ambassador, the Princess said as she held her hand out to him.

The Ambassador leant forward and shook her hand politely, then placing his right hand over his heart in a traditional greeting. Princess, you look gorgeous, he said, and may I wish you a very happy birthday. The rest of the group took his cue and said in unison, Happy birthday, Princess.

Thank you, thank you, she said for the hundredth time that evening with her dazzling smile. Thank you all for coming. I hope you have a good time. Still smiling, she looked straight into the eyes of the stranger in the group. They had a hard, confident edge to them and she felt that no one and nothing would hold any fear for this man, much like herself. His eyes looked straight back at her and the faintest trace of a smile moved across his lips in response to her gaze, as if to hint he had met her before, though she had no clue where that may have been.

He was immaculately groomed from head to foot and everything about him oozed wealth, power and confidence. His white tuxedo with deep red trim, the deep red Hermes bow tie, black trousers with deep red velvet stripes on the side and white shirt with ruby buttons was the precise theme she had asked for the night – white with a touch of red. This man was, she felt, not only handsome but extremely attractive, the exact opposite of her own husband who was languishing somewhere on the far side of the room in an open necked blue and white striped shirt, drinking beer and wine with anyone who he could find to join him.

And who is this? Princess Anette asked the Ambassador, still looking at the stranger.

My apologies, Princess. This is Mr Gem Putanto, businessman and a long-time friend of my family. Mr Putanto, this is Princess Anette G Rosil.

‘Putanto’, the Princess was running the name through her mind to see if it meant anything to her and immediately bells were ringing. Gem Putanto, one of the richest men in the world. She had read about him in the society magazines she liked to browse through and she seemed to remember that not everything that was written about him and the way he had made his fortune, was complimentary. ‘Controversial’ was the word that seemed to spring to mind, a word that some used to describe her also.

A pleasure, Princess, Gem said, holding his hand out to the Princess. Thank you for inviting me to your party and may I wish you happy birthday.

Thank you, the Princess said. As she shook his hand, his dark eyes scanned her face, backed by that damnably enigmatic smile that was obviously intended only for her. Looking straight back at him whilst they held their hands together in a handshake that lasted slightly longer than was normal, she felt a heightening of her sexual senses, a reaction that had not happened to her for many years. She was flustered, another unusual feeling for the Princess, and not knowing quite what was happening to her, managed only to say slightly lamely to the whole group, Well, please enjoy yourselves at my party, and turned to leave.

She was just beginning to step away from the group when something inside her made her look back at the handsome guest and forced out the words, And Mr Putanto, I hope we can share some time together later.

CHAPTER 3

An Unfortunate Fortune

As she left Gem, Princess Anette was asking herself what on earth had made her make such a direct invitation to him. She did not know him and the little she had read about him would normally have made her cautious of making his acquaintance. It was mildly embarrassing, not that she cared about that, but she could already see from the looks on her friend’s faces in the next group that some of her girlfriends had heard what she had said.

"Anette, who is that?" At least three of her girlfriends posed the question simultaneously as quietly as they could.

Just a friend of the Ambassador, Anette said lightly. He might be an interesting business contact.

The looks on her friends’ faces clearly showed they did not believe her, so she added unconvincingly, Yes, strictly business. Her body movements and smile said otherwise. The friends giggled.

Isn’t he Gem Putanto? one of the men in the men in the group added, unhelpfully as far as Anette was concerned because she knew it would just add fuel to her friends’ thoughts that were already on fire.

Yes, that’s right.

Oh, wow! one of the ladies said, immediately recognising the name, just as the Princess had feared.

Be careful Princess, another of her friends said, that man always gets what he wants. You should see what people say about him on the internet.

I will Nicholas, thanks, Anette said, hoping the conversation would move away from Gem Putanto.

Later the following day, when she did search his name, she was amazed at what she read. Now in his forties, Gem had achieved more in his life than most people could even aspire to in a century and he lived in a style that many would envy. His riches had been amassed quite recently, in a short space of time, in just over a decade in fact, by building a mining business, mainly producing coal. The blogs about him were consistently bad. They linked Gem, ‘The King of Coal’ as he was called, and his business to corruption, violence and exploitation, spelling out the names of a string of people who had suffered when they had got in his way.

The bloggers claimed that in his successful grab to monopolise coal in Indonesia, a commodity that by rights belonged to all his countrymen, Gem had made roughly four hundred dollars from every man, woman and child in the country, an amount that was equivalent to one year’s salary for many people. If just a small portion of the population had understood this and realised that their poverty was the result of the corruption that had allowed Gem to steal their birthright, it would not have been safe for Gem to continue to live in his homeland. As it was, very few people realised these numbers or that Gem had personally made over fifty billion dollars. Even the official estimates put his worth at ‘only’ a few billion dollars.

He was revered, rather than feared by many of his countrymen, thanks to his habit of popping up at scenes of catastrophe and dishing out aid to victims and their families. Nobody suspected what was all too often the truth, that it was Gem himself who had orchestrated the catastrophe and had profited from the misery it caused, by many times over the amount of compensation he was paying.

The green movement had nothing good to write about him either. They said Gem refuted everything they wrote about the poor, risky conditions of working in the mining industry, the damage it did to the communities and the pollution that coal had done, and continued to do, to the world’s environment. They claimed, showing facts and figures to back up their claim, that his empire alone was responsible for producing so much of the dirty substance that it had left the Earth with a problem that it might never be able to clear up and that Gem had cashed out of the business without a care for the people and the planet he had harmed.

Strangely, Anette also noted, there were no blogs to counter the accusations levelled against him. What she would learn was that this was partly because Gem did not like to be in the spotlight and knew that engaging anyone in a debate over the internet would be a battle he would lose. More to the point, as his business had grown and he could afford to become thoughtful about things beyond money and power, Gem began to realise there was truth in some of the blogs and, for him to deny them, would have compounded the guilt he was beginning to feel about his life and his business. The bigger his coal empire had become, the more he began to loathe it. He knew that pollution was eating into in all aspects of life on Earth and that he held some responsibility for causing it.

It was the murder of his own family in revenge for one of his own killings that caused Gem to begin seriously rethinking his life. The man he had killed was a business manager who had figured out that Gem was scamming his employer. This was at the very start of Gem’s rise to power, when morality and legacy mattered little to him, when money and power were his drivers, so he had killed the manager to silence him and had arranged for it to look like an accident. The police, who were in Gem’s pocket, agreed the death was an accident. The man’s brother always suspected there was more to his brother’s death than his family had been told and, when he was tipped off several years later that Gem had been the killer, he went to get his revenge.

The brother tracked Gem down, not that he was a hard man to find, and planned to end Gem’s life as painfully as possible in his home. Late one night, after weeks of reconnaissance and fortified by half a bottle of cheap whisky, he managed to avoid the security around Gem’s mansion, gaining access to the home, only to find that Gem was not there. He sat, frustrated at the top of the stairs in the house, slugging on his whisky bottle, and then decided, instead, to kill all the occupants, who were Gem’s two children, his wife, three maids and a driver who he stumbled into as he was leaving the property. His flight from the dead bodies in Gem’s home had taken him just two streets before he collapsed against a tree in his drunken stupor.

The sight of the man in a blood-soaked t-shirt naturally got attention in the upscale neighbourhood and the police arrived and took him away. When they discovered what he had done, the Head of the Police force personally informed Gem and within two days the killer was found dead in his prison cell, hanging from a sheet tied to his window. The coroner’s report recorded suicide, ignoring the bruises and cuts on most parts of his body and the fact that prisoners were not given sheets for their beds. Just like his murdered brother before him, the man’s ashes were handed over to his family following a quick cremation.

After the killings, Gem had to face many truths about himself and when he looked in the mirror, it was not an image he liked staring back at him. In short, despite all his money, Gem was not proud about his life’s achievements and was an unhappy man.

He decided to change his life completely and began with a decision to sell his coal empire. This was not entirely motivated by conscience, however. He felt that the future for coal and all fossil fuels was going to be far shorter than anyone expected and that his multi-billion-dollar empire could crash as quickly as he had created it. He also believed that, like the tobacco industry and other industries who hid the damage they knew they were causing from the public, by spreading ignorance, lies and lawsuits, one day the coal industry would have to pay the bill for cleaning up the mess it had made in the world’s atmosphere. So, he put a large ‘for sale’ sign over his door.

There had been no shortage of bidders. Experts who predicted endless demand for the black stuff, encouraged some of the largest companies in the world to grab this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to buy the leading position in the industry. So many people had questioned Gem’s judgement to sell up that he lost count of their numbers and, as several learnt to their cost, he lost patience with the arrogance with which they presented their case against selling.

As it turned out, the successful buyer was Gem’s long-term adversary and the man from who, by trickery and fraud, he had bought, or rather almost stolen, his first coal mine. That man, Sam Wigonda, had coveted the wealth and power that Gem’s business held and he had fought tooth and nail to win the bidding. He felt certain that by buying the business from Gem, he would at last be able to get his rightful recognition as the country’s leading businessman. Sam secured backing from some international banks and venture capitalists and paid Gem a total of over forty billion dollars in what was dubbed by the media as the deal of the century.

Sam’s name was propelled into the worldwide spotlight as a visionary and the leading expert on coal and energy. For eighteen months it looked like he deserved the accolades, but then China woke up to the pollution that coal was causing to its environment, seeing that people in large cities were literally choking to death in the smog from the coal that was being burnt to power homes and industries. Coal quickly became a pariah, a political headache. Mines were shut down, investment in new coal power stations disappeared as fast as it had grown and demand for the black rock collapsed.

All the projections of the experts unraveled at a dizzying pace when coal prices plummeted. Two years later, Sam was drowning in a sea of debt and looking like the chump of the century rather than the visionary he had promoted himself to be. For the third time in his life Sam had been humiliated by Gem, this time so badly that his reputation and finances were destroyed beyond redemption and Gem had created a life-long enemy.

In time, Anette, would learn all this. For now, as she listened to the good-natured jibes from her friends at her party, she persuaded herself that it was his money and power that were attracting her to Gem, they had always been magnets for her, that and his good looks.

CHAPTER 4

Homing

The Princess’ party was a huge success. A six-course meal, accompanied by a free flow of wine and champagne, was crowned by the cutting of a seven-foot birthday cake that had been specially created for the Princess. As they ate, the guests had been entertained by two of the country’s most famous singers, both of whom were guests for the evening and gave their services for free. In between the performances, a dance troupe had given an exciting repertoire of ballet and modern dance in a brilliantly choreographed set that included some of the troupe climbing ropes to the room’s ceiling and performing daring, elegant stunts as they climbed and descended. When the central entertainment stopped, a magician entertained the guests at their tables with card tricks and illusions that made watches and necklaces disappear and reappear.

The night’s events were overseen by a Master of Ceremonies who knew every guest by sight and captured everyone’s attention with witty asides whilst giving out prizes and gifts on a regular basis. At just after midnight, the last of the guests had said their farewells and thanks to Princess Anette, and everyone was making their way home with their goodies.

Gem was sitting in the back of the Indonesian Ambassador’s limousine as it left the lights of the central area of the city to the darker, quieter suburbs on the way to the Ambassador’s residence. The Ambassador, Zainal, and Gem had known each other for years, having grown up in the same province in Indonesia and later finding a mutual benefit in the Ambassador’s political ambitions and Gem’s commercial abilities with his ruthless approach to business. They had both been in prime positions to benefit when the coal industry in their province exploded into a multi-billion-dollar opportunity, with the Ambassador then being a local Mayor with power to issue coal licences and Gem having the money to bribe mayors to give the best licences to him.

Together they had cornered enough prime mining property for Gem to create the largest coal mines in the world, worth billions of dollars. In the process, Zainal had become rich and Gem had become rich beyond imagination. Their partnership was forged on corruption and relied on the trust and secrecy of both of them, which had proved to be well founded.

Using the money, they made and with Gem’s supporting network, Zainal had progressed from local Mayor to federal politician and from there, after giving up his parliamentary seat, had been invited to become an Ambassador for Indonesia, with Malaysia being his first posting.

Despite having a career in politics and all the influence that Zainal could exert from the positions he had held, it was his friend Gem who was the more powerful and politically astute of the two. He had reached many similar deals as the one he had with Zainal, to enrich himself or to ensure he had enough muscle to allow him to do anything he wished in his home country. His enormous wealth had allowed him to buy the influence not just of politicians like Zainal, but police officers, army generals, civil servants and ministers. By using this network alongside threats, bribes, beatings and murder, Gem had ruthlessly eliminated anyone who might have stood in the way of his ambition to become his country’s kingpin and richest man. From bankruptcy and driving trucks in 1998, Gem had achieved his goal by 2010.

Then Gem had changed his focus to renewable energies. ‘No corruption, no cheating,’ had been a battle cry when he discussed his plans with his friends and main business partners, Eddie and Billy, who would be joining him in the brave new venture.

In practice, several years after setting out on this new path, he was finding that it was difficult, if not impossible, to do business in this way. Everyone seemed to want something extra from him when a deal was being done and