The Protégé

by Stephen Frey

  “Well, if it wasn’t a kidnapping, there’s a good chance Tom McGuire was behind it,” Gillette said. “He could have tipped the paparazzi off, probably paid a Parker Meridien hotel operator to tell him where Allison was going. He would have finished us off while we were lying there on the street. Allison would have been the gang’s witness that they didn’t kill us, and he would have gotten her out of there so he wouldn’t have had to kill her, too. He didn’t care about getting her, and he wouldn’t want the Wallaces on his ass.”

  “The gang described the guy, but it didn’t sound like Tom McGuire.”

  “At this point, I doubt Tom McGuire looks like the Tom McGuire we knew.”

  “Probably not,” Stiles admitted. “It’s interesting,” he said after a short pause. “I told you I was in a gang when I was a teenager.”

  “Yeah, up in Harlem. So?”

  “We used to scam people by agreeing to roll a mark. Mostly guys who came to us pissed off because their girl was cheating on them, and they wanted us to beat the shit out of the other guy. We’d get the money up front, but we wouldn’t actually do it. I mean, why go through the hassle? You’ve got the dude’s cash, so what’s he going to do if you don’t beat the guy up? If he screws with one of your gang, he knows he’s dead.” Stiles paused. “But these guys from Brooklyn did it, and they’re one of the toughest gangs in the city. Why would they follow through?”

  “Any ideas?” Gillette asked.

  “Probably supports your Tom McGuire theory.”

  “Why?”

  “Whoever convinced them to come after us must have had something on them. You know, information he threatened them with so that if they didn’t do it, they’d go to jail. That’s the only way I can see it happening. McGuire might still have friends inside the FBI, people who might even be helping him stay hidden. Even with everything he did. He could have gotten information from them.” Stiles hesitated. “Just a theory, but it’s possible.”

  “Yeah,” Gillette said quietly, a bad feeling snaking up his spine—as if he was being stalked. With each day that had passed without a murder attempt, he’d felt safer. Suddenly he didn’t feel safe anymore, even with Stiles back. “Why would the gang have talked? Why wouldn’t they just shut up and post bail?”

  “Good question. Maybe they were so pissed off about losing one of their own. You know, the guy that died? They said the SUV that ran him over was driven by the guy who paid them.”

  “STOP WORRYING about it,” Gillette said as they walked through the double glass doorway and into the Hush-Hush lobby. He’d caught Wright checking out the scab on the side of his face several times. “They want our money, they won’t care about a scratch.”

  “What happened?” Wright asked, still staring.

  “I got into it with a few idiots outside a restaurant last night.” Stiles had been able to keep their names out of the newspapers. But he realized that Allison might blab about it later, so he couldn’t make something up.

  “What happened to your posse? The QS guys. Why weren’t they around?”

  They reached the receptionist desk, and Gillette motioned for Wright to speak to the young woman.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, not bothering to look up from her computer. She was pretty, dressed to show it all off. Her silk top hung low over her breasts, revealing the top of a lacy dark purple bra.

  “We’re here to see Tony Maddox.”

  The young woman looked up at Wright, then Gillette, seemingly impressed with anyone who was here to see the CEO. “Your names?” she asked, giving Gillette a friendly smile, her voice more respectful.

  “I’m Christian Gillette, this is David Wright.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gillette. Just a moment.”

  “Why weren’t Stiles’s guys around to protect you?” Wright asked again as the woman buzzed Maddox’s assistant.

  Gillette glanced around the lobby. The walls were covered with pictures of women in lingerie. “I got careless; it wasn’t Quentin’s fault.”

  “What happened?”

  “I told you, I got into a fight.”

  “How’s the other guy?”

  “Dead.”

  Wright laughed loudly. “No, seriously.”

  “David, let’s talk about the meeting,” Gillette said. “Given that you were on your phone the whole way down here and we’ve only got about ten seconds.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to get us in to see these guys at that Bermuda insurance company. They’ve got a big operation up here in New York, and like I said, they can probably do half a billion. I figure you want me to run that down as fast as possible, Chris.”

  “Do you want me to lead this meeting?”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t screw up,” Gillette warned. “I think we’ll be able to flip this company in a couple of months for two to three times our investment. Faraday and I have it all arranged.”

  “What?”

  Gillette hadn’t told Wright about Faraday’s connection to the French apparel company. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said, spotting a young woman coming toward them. Probably Maddox’s assistant. “Just make sure the meeting goes well. There’ll be a big bonus in this for you if the deal works out.”

  “Hello, gentlemen.” Like the receptionist, Maddox’s assistant was pretty and well dressed. “Please come this way.”

  They followed her down a short hallway and into an impressive office, expansive and modern-looking.

  “Hey, guys,” Tony Maddox called in a friendly voice, standing up and dropping the headset he was wearing onto the desk. He was short, silver haired, deeply tanned, and dressed casually. “This is Frank Hobbs, my director of corporate development.”

  “I know Frank,” Wright said, stepping in front of Gillette and shaking Maddox’s hand, then Hobbs’s. “Frank and I went to business school together. How are you, pal?”

  “Good.” Hobbs was tall, dark, and thin and wore plastic-rimmed glasses. Unlike Maddox, Hobbs was in a suit and tie.

  “Thanks for giving me the heads-up on this, Frank.”

  “Sure.”

  “Guess it paid off to be in study group together first year, huh?”

  Hobbs smiled and looked at the others. “Paid off for me,” he said appreciatively. “David taught me how to value stocks. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

  Gillette winked at Hobbs. “Well, I hope you didn’t take everything he said seriously. David tends to overpay. Which is why I’m here.”

  When the laughter had died down, Maddox stepped around Wright. “You must be Christian Gillette,” he said, extending his hand.

  “That’s right,” Gillette acknowledged, noticing Maddox’s gold bracelet and pinkie ring as they shook hands. Also noticing his quick glance at the scab. But Maddox said nothing.

  “I’ve read a lot about you lately.”

  “Yeah, thanks to that damn freedom of the press thing.”

  Maddox laughed heartily. “A real bitch, huh? Bitten me in the ass a few times, too.” He pointed at two comfortable-looking couches in a corner of the office. “Let’s sit down.”

  As they did, Maddox’s assistant came back into the room and poured coffee, then picked up a tray from a table near the couches and served croissants.

  As the young woman leaned over in front of Gillette, her loose blouse hung low, exposing her breasts. He looked away, over at Maddox, who was smiling back.

  “This is a fun business, Christian,” Maddox said. “If we can find a price that works for both of us today, you’re going to have a great time.”

  “Tony, what’s the ownership structure of Hush-Hush?” Wright asked.

  “I own ninety-five percent,” Maddox answered, giving Wright a cursory glance, then refocusing on Gillette. “My brother owns the other five, but he hasn’t been active in the business for a few years and I control the board. I made the decision to sell the company. He has to go along with whatever I say.”

  “Why sell now?�
� Wright wanted to know.

  This time Maddox didn’t even bother looking over at Wright, just kept talking to Gillette. “I know I look a lot younger, but I’m fifty-five. I’m getting tired. This thing has been my baby for the last eight years, and I love it, but it’s worn me out. Plus, we’re growing so damn fast at this point. Faster than we were a few years ago. The problem is—and I didn’t realize this when I started the company—but the faster you grow, the more money you gotta put in the business. I’m old, Christian, I want to be taking money out.”

  “Sure.” Gillette could see that Wright was aggravated at the lack of attention from Maddox. “Tony,” he said, pointing at Wright, “I want you to know that if we do a deal, David will be responsible for Hush-Hush. He’ll be the chairman. He’s just been promoted to managing partner. He’s one of our top guns.”

  “Oh.” Maddox turned slightly toward Wright and gave him a respectful nod. “I see.”

  “Could you give me a snapshot of the company’s financials?” Wright asked.

  “I’ll handle that one, Tony,” Hobbs spoke up. “This year we’ll do around four hundred million in revenues and thirty in net income. That’s up from two hundred twenty-five and ten last year.”

  “Sweet,” Wright said, turning to Maddox. “So, what do you want for it?” he asked bluntly.

  Maddox shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Jeez, I thought you’d make me an offer.”

  Before Wright could say anything, there was a knock on the door and Maddox’s assistant stuck her head into the office. “Tony, we’re ready.”

  “Okay.” Maddox nodded. “Guys, I thought before we got into any hard-core negotiations, we’d have a little presentation. You should have a firsthand look at what we do. That okay with you, David?”

  Gillette saw the gleam in Maddox’s eyes and knew exactly what was coming.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Maddox waved at his assistant.

  She pushed the door wide open, then stepped back to let a statuesque woman whisk into the room. The young brunette wore just a sheer white bra, a lacy white thong, and high heels. She walked seductively to where the men sat, hesitated in front of them for a few moments, hands on her hips, chest pushed out, then turned her back to them and stood still again for a few seconds in the same pose. As she walked out, another woman entered. A blonde this time, wearing a black teddy.

  Gillette glanced over at Hobbs, who was looking down, then at Wright, whose chin was in his lap. Finally he looked at Maddox, who was grinning from ear to ear.

  “YOU DID AN excellent job with the Hush-Hush meeting,” Gillette said. He and Wright were headed into an elevator to go up to the Apex Capital offices for their meeting with Russell Hughes. “I liked the way you cut off the show after the third woman.”

  “I knew what Maddox was doing, obviously.” Wright shook his head as the doors closed and the elevator began to rise. “But, Jesus, those women were incredible.”

  “That’s the fashion business.” Gillette had been worried that Wright would give away the farm, but he’d handled himself well. The way a protégé should. “Six hundred million’s a fair price, especially since it’s growing fast. I was proud of you for not offering too much.”

  Wright smiled. “Trust me, I thought about offering Maddox whatever he wanted when I saw that first woman.”

  Gillette laughed. “You should have seen your face. Your jaw was in your lap.”

  “You think he’ll take six hundred?”

  “I think he’ll call his investment banker, who’ll tell him it’s worth more.”

  Wright nodded glumly. “Like they always do.”

  “But Tony’s sharp,” Gillette spoke up. “He’ll understand that he might get more if he tried really hard. But it wouldn’t be that much more, and it would take a while to get. I talked to him for a few seconds as we were leaving, and I made it clear that we could wrap things up quickly. I also told him I could get him into the White House for a personal visit with the president. He’s a big Republican.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Senator Clark told me he’d help with that if we ever needed it. Only a couple of times a year max, but this is one of those times we need him.”

  Wright whistled. “That would be incredible.”

  The elevator doors parted on the forty-ninth floor.

  “Better not tell your wife about Hush-Hush,” Gillette joked. “She’ll never let you go to work.”

  “Yeah,” Wright said distractedly.

  Gillette’s cell phone rang.

  “I’ll let Hughes know we’re here,” Wright volunteered, moving to the receptionist’s desk.

  “Thanks.” Gillette pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the digits: It was the Everest main number. “Hello.”

  “Christian, it’s Nigel. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “David and I are about to head into our Apex meeting with Russell Hughes.”

  “Then I’ll keep it quick. How did the Hush-Hush thing go?”

  “Very well. David did a good job.”

  “Next steps?” Faraday asked.

  “We offered six hundred million. It’s in the CEO’s court to get back to us at this point.”

  “Odds?”

  “Fifty-fifty.”

  “I’m looking forward to the day you don’t say that. Look”—Faraday’s voice dropped—“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. One of the receptionists brought a copy of the Daily News into the office this morning. There’s a couple of pictures of you and Allison on the celebrity page. She’s hanging all over you.” He hesitated. “I wanted to get to you before Faith did.”

  Gillette felt his jaw tighten. That was going to be tough to explain. “Thanks.”

  “Christian,” Wright called from the receptionist’s desk, “Hughes is ready for us.”

  “Yeah, all right.” Gillette gave Wright a quick wave. “Thanks for the call, Nigel.”

  “Sure.”

  Gillette ended the call but didn’t put the phone back in his pocket right away. Instead, he gazed at it for a moment, considering whether or not to call Faith. The proactive approach was always better, but—

  “Christian,” Wright called again impatiently.

  Gillette let out a quick breath and shoved the phone in his pocket. Never enough time. “Coming.”

  The three men sat at a round table in Hughes’s office overlooking the East River from forty-nine stories up. Hughes sat with his legs crossed at the knees, arms folded tightly across his chest, chin touching his tie. Clearly, some of his investors had alerted him to what was coming. Probably told him to try to negotiate some kind of settlement, Gillette thought. Then ride off quietly into the sunset.

  “Thanks for meeting with us today,” Gillette began.

  “I didn’t want to,” Hughes answered candidly, his voice shaking with emotion. “But the Strazzi Estate people basically gave me no choice.”

  “They’re getting impatient.”

  “They’re getting impatient,” Hughes repeated, his voice rising, “because you’re going out and stirring them up. I have a plan.”

  “The plan’s not working.”

  “I need time.”

  “Russell, I’ve looked at your portfolio. You got some dogs, and that’s because you’ve let management teams stay on that you should have fired a long time ago. We have top-notch people who can step in right away and make a difference.”

  “You’ve already had in-depth discussions with the Strazzi Estate representatives,” Hughes accused Gillette.

  “I wouldn’t call them ‘in-depth.’ ”

  “They want you to buy Apex. They want out.”

  “They actually said that to you?”

  “They didn’t have to, it was obvious.” Hughes leaned forward and folded his hands on the table, head down. “Give me six months, Christian. If I haven’t improved things after six months, then buy the firm. I won’t put up a fight.”

  “There might not
be anything to buy at that point.”

  “You’ll be able to get it for almost nothing if the portfolio companies keep getting worse.”

  “I’m not a vulture,” Gillette said. “I like buying things that have a pulse.”

  Hughes cleared his throat. “If you bought it, how would you run it? I mean, would you fold it into Everest?”

  “Not right away. For at least the first year, I’d keep Apex independent. Like I said, I’d hire some of my own people and replace some of yours at the portfolio companies. But I wouldn’t physically combine the offices or integrate the staffs of Apex and Everest.”

  “What about me?” Hughes asked, his voice hoarse.

  “I haven’t decided yet, but I know that whoever’s running this for us will report to David.” Gillette nodded at Wright, who up to this point had said nothing.

  Hughes took a deep breath. “I know what I’m doing, David. People here respect me.” He hesitated, then glanced at Wright. “I need this job.”

  “CHRISTIAN.”

  Gillette looked up from the Veramax report he was reading. The company was doing very well. If he could get the FDA off its ass, the thing would go white hot. Allison was right. “Yes, Nigel.”

  “Sorry to bother you, but Faith is in the lobby.”

  “Thanks.” Faith had called earlier and asked if she could stop by. She’d just gotten in from the West Coast. “Tell her to come on back.”

  “Sure.”

  Gillette stood up and stretched. It was eight-thirty, and suddenly he realized he was hungry. He’d eaten nothing that day but a bowl of cereal for breakfast and a quick salad with Wright in between the Hush-Hush and Apex meetings. He came out from behind the desk and leaned against the front of it. When Faith called, she’d been short. He could tell by her tone something was wrong, and he was pretty sure he knew what.

  The door opened and Faith Cassidy was standing in front of him. She was so vivacious, blond with large green eyes and a voluptuous figure. Not at all impressed with herself, either, even though she had every right to be since her first two albums had gone platinum. Normally, when she hadn’t seen him for a while, she would have rushed right into his arms, but today she lingered by the door. Normally, her eyes sparkled when she looked at him, too, but today the fire was missing.