by a few people at the company. It’s been restricted to me, my father, Dwayne, my cousin Allen, Mr. Shafter here, and Mark Whitacre, one of our employees.’’
Speaking in a cool tone, Andreas explained the recent history of the lysine market. He told how the Japanese had controlled the business until ADM’s entry a few years back. That had led the Japanese to drastically cut the price of lysine and close some plants. Eventually, ADM started experiencing contamination in the lysine fermenters. About that same time, ADM and some of the Japanese competitors had visited each other’s plants.
Within days, Andreas said, Whitacre received a strange call from one of those visitors. Andreas no longer remembered Fujiwara’s name but recalled every detail of the sabotage by Ajinomoto and the demand for $10 million. In the weeks since receiving that first call, he said, Whitacre had spoken to the Japanese executive just about every other day.
Andreas clasped his hands on the table. “Mark’s got him talked down to six million.’’ Three million would be paid to identify the saboteur; the rest would be for the superbug.
Still, the company was concerned. If ADM paid the money and took the bugs, Andreas said, the Japanese might take legal action or go to the newspapers, saying the microbes had been stolen. This whole thing, he suggested, might be just a sting designed to cripple ADM as a competitor by luring them into something illegal.
“Mr. Andreas, don’t worry about that,’’ Stukey said. “I’m granting you international immunity.’’
Shafter wasn’t sure if Stukey was joking, but he didn’t want Mick getting any wrong ideas. He scribbled something onto his notepad and slid it toward Andreas. Mick glanced at the paper. He saw a single word.
Bullshit!
Andreas said nothing. Shafter took back the note.
“ADM is willing to lose three million dollars to resolve this matter,’’ Andreas continued. “But we can’t pay the money directly. If there’s a mole in the company, it might attract his attention. But my dad has told me that he’s willing to personally guarantee any money paid to this Japanese guy if the United States Government puts up the cash initially.’’
Shepard studied Andreas as he spoke. He seemed businesslike and taciturn. He was describing this multimillion-dollar transaction with the government as though it was like any other business deal.
“Well, Mr. Andreas,’’ Stukey said, “we obviously know who you are and who your father is. And this has the potential of being a truly international case. This is corporate espionage at the highest level. We want to do everything we can to work with you.’’
To start, Stukey said, they needed to interview Mark Whitacre. After all, he was the person who was receiving these calls from the Japanese executive.
“Do you know where Mr. Whitacre lives?’’ Stukey asked.
“I can tell you exactly where he lives,’’ Andreas said. “He lives in the house my mom and dad used to live in. It’s out in Moweaqua.’’
That house was almost symbolic of Whitacre’s stirring personal history that was so well known around Decatur. Most everyone associated with ADM—the Andreases, Shafter, Jim Randall—had heard Whitacre tell the amazing story of his life: how he had been orphaned as a young boy in Ohio when his parents died in a car accident; how he had spent difficult times in a local orphanage, feeling unwanted; how he had been adopted by a wealthy man who owned a giant Ohio amusement park called King’s Island. Whitacre had gone from having nothing to wanting for nothing. Now from a family worth millions, Whitacre seemed to have no need to work; he had been able to buy the old Andreas house when he first joined ADM. His work ethic, combined with his family’s personal wealth, fascinated other executives.
“We’ll need to go out there,’’ Stukey said. “We obviously would like to tape one of these phone calls he’s had with the
Speaking in a cool tone, Andreas explained the recent history of the lysine market. He told how the Japanese had controlled the business until ADM’s entry a few years back. That had led the Japanese to drastically cut the price of lysine and close some plants. Eventually, ADM started experiencing contamination in the lysine fermenters. About that same time, ADM and some of the Japanese competitors had visited each other’s plants.
Within days, Andreas said, Whitacre received a strange call from one of those visitors. Andreas no longer remembered Fujiwara’s name but recalled every detail of the sabotage by Ajinomoto and the demand for $10 million. In the weeks since receiving that first call, he said, Whitacre had spoken to the Japanese executive just about every other day.
Andreas clasped his hands on the table. “Mark’s got him talked down to six million.’’ Three million would be paid to identify the saboteur; the rest would be for the superbug.
Still, the company was concerned. If ADM paid the money and took the bugs, Andreas said, the Japanese might take legal action or go to the newspapers, saying the microbes had been stolen. This whole thing, he suggested, might be just a sting designed to cripple ADM as a competitor by luring them into something illegal.
“Mr. Andreas, don’t worry about that,’’ Stukey said. “I’m granting you international immunity.’’
Shafter wasn’t sure if Stukey was joking, but he didn’t want Mick getting any wrong ideas. He scribbled something onto his notepad and slid it toward Andreas. Mick glanced at the paper. He saw a single word.
Bullshit!
Andreas said nothing. Shafter took back the note.
“ADM is willing to lose three million dollars to resolve this matter,’’ Andreas continued. “But we can’t pay the money directly. If there’s a mole in the company, it might attract his attention. But my dad has told me that he’s willing to personally guarantee any money paid to this Japanese guy if the United States Government puts up the cash initially.’’
Shepard studied Andreas as he spoke. He seemed businesslike and taciturn. He was describing this multimillion-dollar transaction with the government as though it was like any other business deal.
“Well, Mr. Andreas,’’ Stukey said, “we obviously know who you are and who your father is. And this has the potential of being a truly international case. This is corporate espionage at the highest level. We want to do everything we can to work with you.’’
To start, Stukey said, they needed to interview Mark Whitacre. After all, he was the person who was receiving these calls from the Japanese executive.
“Do you know where Mr. Whitacre lives?’’ Stukey asked.
“I can tell you exactly where he lives,’’ Andreas said. “He lives in the house my mom and dad used to live in. It’s out in Moweaqua.’’
That house was almost symbolic of Whitacre’s stirring personal history that was so well known around Decatur. Most everyone associated with ADM—the Andreases, Shafter, Jim Randall—had heard Whitacre tell the amazing story of his life: how he had been orphaned as a young boy in Ohio when his parents died in a car accident; how he had spent difficult times in a local orphanage, feeling unwanted; how he had been adopted by a wealthy man who owned a giant Ohio amusement park called King’s Island. Whitacre had gone from having nothing to wanting for nothing. Now from a family worth millions, Whitacre seemed to have no need to work; he had been able to buy the old Andreas house when he first joined ADM. His work ethic, combined with his family’s personal wealth, fascinated other executives.
“We’ll need to go out there,’’ Stukey said. “We obviously would like to tape one of these phone calls he’s had with the
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