Pete glanced at John. John nodded. “That’s right, Mike. I said four. We’re at four-point-one, to be accurate. Which, incidentally, is more or less the amount of cash we originally agreed that you’d offer.”
“Well, that’s great!” said Wilson, either ignoring or not picking up on John’s sarcasm. “We only need six and a quarter. What’s that, another two-point-one? You’ve still got five days to find it.”
No one on the call knew whether Wilson was being serious or sarcastic. Not even Lyall Gelb, sitting across the table from him in Baton Rouge, could tell.
“Mike,” said John Golansky, “that’s a lot to find.”
“Two-point-one?” replied Wilson, as if he were in the habit of walking around and picking up a couple of billion dollars every day of the week.
John Golansky glanced at Pete.
“Two-point-one-five, Mike,” said Stanzy. “To be accurate.”
“Come on, John. You guys raised the Alesco loan in two days. What was it? Five billion or something? Isn’t that what you guys always say? Isn’t that your pitch?”
Yeah, thought Golansky. But people wanted to invest in Alesco.
“Lyall’s got something to say,” said Wilson. “Lyall?”
“Ah … yeah. I think I can find maybe three hundred and fifty million.”
Golansky and Stanzy glanced at each other.
“Where’s this coming from, Lyall?” asked Pete, writing 350 million on his pad.
“Umm … we had a couple of disposals we were looking at. I’ve been seeing what I can do and I think we may be able to bring them forward.”
“That’d be good,” said Stanzy encouragingly.
Golansky raised an eyebrow.
“Lyall’s being modest,” said Wilson. “We’ll have four.”
“Lyall?”
“Yeah, Pete. Call it four.”
“That’s four hundred million?” said John Golansky.
“Yes, John.”
“Does Buffalo know about these disposals?”
“It’s all in the due diligence documentation,” replied Wilson. “These aren’t new disposals. We’ve planned them for a while now. We’ll just be bringing them forward so they’re done before the deal’s complete.”
“It’s not … we’ll still be operating the assets,” said Lyall. “It’s just the ownership, which—”
“It’s complicated,” interjected Wilson. “Right, Lyall?”
“Yes. Fairly complicated.”
Wilson laughed. “Boys, when Lyall says something’s fairly complicated, there’s no one else in the world who can understand it!”
John and Pete were supposed to laugh, they knew, but neither of them did.
“Where are these assets?” asked Stanzy, trying to ignore the look John Golanksy was giving him.
“Hungary,” said Wilson. “We have a number of assets in Hungary. You ever been there?”
“No,” said Stanzy.
“You should. Great little place. World of opportunity.”
Pete looked at Golansky. He shrugged. If Mike Wilson said they had assets to dispose of in Hungary, they had to take him at his word.
“Pete? John? You guys still there?”
“Yeah. We’re still here,” said Golansky. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. “Okay. Look, four hundred million will help. Can I definitely count on that?”
“Yeah,” said Wilson’s voice. “You got it.”
“Lyall? Is it definite?”
“Yes,” said Gelb.
“You sure?”
“Lyall,” said Wilson. “We’re sure, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” There was a pause. “I’m sure.”
“So that makes the total loan we need to raise five-point-eight-five billion? Is that what you’re saying? I need to be absolutely sure.”
“Yes,” said Wilson impatiently. “Hell, how many different ways do you want us to say it?”
“Okay,” said Golansky. “We’ve got four-point-one, so that leaves our shortfall at one-point-seven-five.”
“So, how are we looking?” asked Wilson.
“Well,” said Golansky, “looks like we’re looking for one-point-seven-five.”
Wilson laughed. “Come on, John. You know what I’m saying.”
Golansky turned to Pete. He moved each hand up and down a little, as if it were an even money bet whether they could get the rest of the cash.
“I think we’re looking pretty good,” said Pete.
“John?”
“I’m not saying we’re there, Mike.”
“You two, you’re like Laurel and Hardy.” Wilson laughed. “What do I have to do to get a straight answer?”
Pete left it to John.
“We’re not there,” said Golanksy. “All right? I’ve gone to the majors, and Citi and Bank of America are giving me four-point-one between them. From here, I don’t know. I could go down a tier or two, but you’re gonna be paying a premium, Mike. We’re talking two, three percent minimum.”
“How about a little help from you guys?”
John Golansky frowned. “What was that?”
“Come on, John,” said Wilson. “We just put in another four hundred million. I raised, you match.”
Golansky stared at Pete in disbelief.
“How about it?”
“Mike,” began Pete, “I don’t know if that’s—”
“Where’s the commitment?” There was no humor in Wilson’s tone now. “Huh? We’re having trouble getting over the line. You telling me you guys aren’t gonna push a little?”
“Mike, we’re not that kind of bank. We don’t have the kind of balance sheet that allows us to provide loans from our own funds. That’s why John’s gone to—”
“Pete, don’t give me that crap! Now tell me, how much are you guys putting in?”
“Now, Mike, you really have got the wrong idea about—”
“Whatever it is,” said Wilson, “double it!”
Pete didn’t respond to that. On the other side of the table, John Golansky was getting angry.
“How much is it?” persisted Wilson. “Come on, how much are you guys putting in. Two hundred? Three?”
“Mr. Wilson,” said John Golansky quietly, “I’m not sure we can take this business further.”
“What?” demanded Wilson.
Pete stared at Golansky.
“I don’t know whether we have anything further to talk about,” said Golanksy.
“The fuck we don’t!”
“I’m going to tell you something, Mr. Wilson. Your company is not well regarded in certain sectors of the investor community. In fact, that’s putting it mildly.”
“What the fuck?”
“Do you understand me, Mr. Wilson? Or do I need to spell it out? Now, if you think you know how to get the funds for the ridiculous amount of cash you offered your target, I suggest you take your little deal and go elsewhere and get them. Because I sure as hell can’t.”
“John…” said Pete.
“No, Pete. Mr. Wilson should know what’s going on out there. Now, it’s very nice that Mr. Gelb has found a further four hundred million, but right now that’s about as useful to me as a bite on a rat’s ass. When you find another billion and three quarters, Mr. Wilson, give me a call.”
There was a deathly silence on the line.
“Pete,” said Wilson at last. His voice was quiet. “Is that your attitude as well?”
Stanzy looked at Golansky. Golansky didn’t return his glance.
Pete didn’t know what to say.
“John,” said Wilson. “Okay. Listen. You’re right. What you put in is your business. I was out of line.”
“I don’t think you’ve been listening to me,” said Golansky. “There’s a smell about your company.”
“John, John, come on.” Wilson laughed. Even across the phone line it sounded desperate. “You guys can do this. Right, Pete? You guys can do this.”
Stanzy didn’t say anyt
hing. He was in the middle. He had the sense that he had better just shut up at this point and leave it to Golansky or Golansky really might walk.
“Come on, John,” said Wilson. “Think of the fees. Think of the business you’ll get in the future. You do this for me, who do you think I’ll be coming back to? Merrill? Fuck Merrill!”
“There are some things that are more important than money, Mr. Wilson. That’s how a firm like Dyson Whitney builds its name.”
Pete stared at Golansky.
“But you’ll do it, right?” said Wilson.
“How much did I say we still needed?” said Golansky.
“One-point-seven-five billion.”
“Well, I’ve told you. I’m not saying we’re there. I’m not saying we’re going to get there.”
“But you’re saying we might, huh?”
Golanksy paused. He let the silence go on until it was almost intolerable. “We might,” he said at last.
“You know the timelines,” said Wilson. “You have the due diligence review Monday, right? I go to my board Wednesday. Bassett goes to his board the same day. We’ve got to have the loan set up by then.”
“We’re aware of the timelines,” snapped Golansky. “If I were you, Mr. Wilson, I’d be more concerned about the premium you’re going to be paying for this loan if I do manage to get it.”
“Well, let’s just see you get it.”
“I’d be more concerned about what your board is going to say.”
“You just do your job, Golansky. Just worry about getting your fee. I’ll handle my board.”
Pete Stanzy could feel the hostility mounting again. He wanted to get this call finished before any irreversible damage was done. “Mike,” he said hurriedly, “we’ll talk Monday after the due diligence review. I’ll call you when it’s finished.”
“Fine.”
“We’re done. Have a good weekend. You, too, Lyall.”
“Yeah,” said Wilson irritably. “You guys have a good weekend as well.”
Stanzy killed the line.
He glanced at John.
Golanksy shook his head. “Fuck Wilson. He can keep his fucking deal.”
“You don’t mean that,” said Stanzy.
Golansky shrugged. “You like that guy? He’s a king-size prick.”
“Yeah. But you’ll get the money, right?”
Golansky shrugged.
Stanzy smiled. “Come on, John.”
“What?” said Golansky. There was no smile on his face. “We’re not there, Pete. Nowhere near there. I’m serious. I wasn’t kidding.”
* * *
In Baton Rouge, Wilson noticed the way Lyall Gelb was looking at him.
“What?” he said.
Lyall Gelb didn’t say anything.
“You were worried about that?” Wilson forced a smile. “That was banker’s bullshit, Lyall.”
That wasn’t what had shocked him. It was the look on Wilson’s face in that first moment when John Golansky told him to forget the deal. Desperation. Panic. Lyall Gelb had never seen a look like that on Mike Wilson’s face before.
“What is it?” Wilson laughed. “All they care about is the fees. They’re prostitutes, Lyall. They’re all the same. They’ll get the money. You’ll see. It won’t be a problem. You watch. They’ll get it easy.”
There was silence.
Wilson grinned. “Listen, Lyall, if we need to, we can get another few hundred million, right?”
Lyall stared at him.
“Huh?”
Lyall began to laugh.
“What?”
“Mike, do you think I’ve got some kind of bottomless piggy bank of cash where you can keep going every time … every time…” Lyall gave up, grinning in utter, despairing disbelief. “This last four hundred … Jiminy Creeper, Mike! We are so overloaded out there, we’re pulling in debt from so many places, even the Hungarian authorities are going to start asking questions.”
“Yeah, and my grandmother’s going to play for the Jets.”
“Mike. You don’t get it, do you? There’s nothing more! Do you understand? Nothing! I can’t get another cent.”
“Take it easy…”
“No!” Gelb jumped up. “You don’t understand! We’re done! We’re through!”
“Lyall, get a grip!”
“Get a grip? Get a what? Mike, you’re—”
Wilson grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get a fucking grip!” he said, and he shoved him back into the seat.
Lyall fell silent. He clutched at his belly.
“Now, listen to me. You’ve got to get a grip.” Wilson watched him. “Okay? Listen, Lyall. We’re gonna be all right. We’re going to do this deal, and we’re going to be all right. Lyall, you hear me? We’re not through. This is only the beginning.”
Lyall had closed his eyes. Only the beginning? He just wanted it to end. He felt as if he were wrapped up in coils, as if a giant snake were wrapped around him, squeezing tighter and tighter.
He opened his eyes. Wilson was watching him.
“Okay?”
Lyall nodded.
“We’re gonna be all right. And guess what? Your contract says there’ll be a big bonus for you when we do it as well. Remember?”
Gelb wished he could forget. The thought of the bonus that was waiting if the deal went through just made him feel even more sick. It made everything seem even more wrong, if that was possible.
“Can I go now?” he said.
“Sure, Lyall.”
Gelb got up.
“You seen a doctor yet? About that ulcer?”
“No.”
“I’m surprised Margaret hasn’t driven you down there herself. You give her my love when you see her tonight, Lyall.”
“Sure.”
“And the kids. How’s little Becky?”
“She’s fine.”
“Good. You going to get any rest this weekend? I bet the kids keep you busy, huh?”
Lyall nodded. He looked ill.
“Get some rest, Lyall. We’re gonna be okay.”
Lyall closed the door behind him. Mike Wilson sat down at his desk. He looked at the pictures of his own kids. No wives, just the kids. He hadn’t seen them in a while. Especially the older two. When this was over, maybe he’d get them all together. Maybe fly them all down to the chalet in Aspen.
When this was over …
Wilson stared out the window, face set. Very calm. Very blank. Just as if he were sitting at a poker table, deep into an outrageous, almost inconceivable bluff.
He had almost blinked, just now, when John Golansky came back at him. Hell, he had blinked. And in front of Lyall Gelb.
That was bad. Lyall wasn’t the man he’d been. Right now, Lyall had to be bluffed just as much as anyone else. More than anyone else. He was falling apart. Wilson had to keep him together, and the only chance he had of doing that was if Lyall saw nothing from him but the strongest, most unshakable belief that this deal was going through. That’s what everyone had to see.
Wilson thought over what he’d said to Lyall after they’d gotten off the phone. He hoped he’d done enough to repair some of the damage. He’d go talk to him again later.
It was sad, the way Lyall was unraveling. Wilson doubted Gelb would ever have the nerve to be any good again. He’d keep him for a couple of years, treat him with kid gloves as Lyall quietly unwound the structures he had created. No one could do that but Lyall himself. Then he’d have to get rid of him. Give him a big payout and send him off.
Maybe he would let Bassett step up to CEO. Wilson thought about it. No, Bassett was useless. He’d get rid of him as well. In a couple of years he’d need replacements for both of them, Bassett and Gelb. That meant it wouldn’t be more than a year or so before he’d have to start looking. A conversation with Gordon Anderton, the head of the recruitment consultancy who sat on the board. Very private.
Wilson brought himself back to the present. The deal wasn’t done yet, he reminded himself. He couldn’t
afford to let anyone see him blink again.
He ran through the elements in his mind, everything that still had to fall into place. For a start, raising the loan. He had overreacted. As far as walking away over some matter of the bank’s reputation, Wilson was almost certain Golansky was all talk. If he wasn’t, he’d be the first banker Mike Wilson had ever heard of who’d done such a thing. The fee at stake was too large. As long as the money was there to be had, Golanksy would get it. Pete Stanzy would see to that. Wilson knew there was nothing he could do now on that front but hold his nerve and wait for the bankers to deliver. Next, there was the issue of BritEnergy’s due diligence on Lousiana Light’s data. He didn’t think that was going to be a problem. There was so much information in that data room in New York, they wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, they weren’t going to be looking too hard. What did that leave? Getting the final terms of the deal past his own board, whose members hadn’t been told about the increased cash he had put into the offer. He thought about Ed Leary and the other members of the board. There were ways of managing that.
Actually, everything was on track. The conversation with Golansky had unsettled him, but when you took it piece by piece, everything was as good as it could be at this stage. Now he just had to keep it all going. Everyone had to believe that he believed it was a certainty. In the middle of it all, that was the thing that held it together.
One more week of bluffing. One more week to hold his nerve.
The phone rang.
“It’s Ms. Bellinger, Mr. Wilson,” said Stella.
“Put her through.” Wilson composed himself. “Mandy!” he said ebulliently when she came on the line. “You’ve saved me a call.”
“Really?”
“Do you remember I told you there was something big I’d need you to work on? Well, I was just about to call. I’m going to need your help with an announcement.”
“Don’t tell me,” said Amanda. “Louisiana Light is doing a deal.”
Wilson laughed. “You’re smart, Mandy. I knew you’d guess.”
“I didn’t guess. I know.”
“Confident, aren’t you?”
“No. I know, Mike. That’s what I rang to tell you.”
Wilson laughed again. “What are you talking about, Mandy?”
“I know already. You’re doing a deal with a company in Europe. You’re announcing Friday.”
Due Diligence: A Thriller Page 28