KERRI'S WAR: VOLUME THREE OF THE KING TRILOGY

by Stephen Douglass

  His Blackberry rang and he answered it.

  The caller was Ken Layton, president of Enerco, a gigantic energy trading company with headquarters in Houston, and a market capitalization of over sixty billion dollars. Layton and Tavaris had graduated in the same class at Wharton, but had not communicated since their graduation date. They exchanged the customary pleasantries, then Layton conveyed his regrets and sympathies to Tavaris. Next came the real reason for the call. Layton got right to the point. “Peter, I want to buy Iacardi & Sons. What do you think my chances are?”

  Shocked by Layton’s proposition, Tavaris took several seconds to gather his thoughts. He reasoned, correctly, that Layton was engaging in shameless opportunism. Iacardi had sustained a near mortal blow. Its shareholders were vulnerable to a low-ball offer. He chuckled. “You mean you want to steal it.”

  “Of course I do, if I can, but I’m not stupid enough to think you and the rest of the shareholders will let me. If what I’m proposing to do is the slightest bit interesting to you, then get a copy of the company’s latest financials to me as soon as you can. I’ll review your material with our financial people and decide how much we can afford to offer. Before we do anything official, however, I’ll call you and tell you what that number is. Then you can take that number and determine how receptive the shareholders are.”

  Tavaris sensed an opportunity of a lifetime. “Suppose I do this. What’s in it for me?”

  “You make this deal happen and I’ll make you a very wealthy man.”

  “How? Be more specific.”

  “Iacardi’s a great world brand. I’ll keep it separate and make you president. Then I’ll pay you a salary equal to mine and give you an annual performance based bonus, plus stock options. Am I getting warm?”

  Layton’s offer rang Tavaris’s bell. It was as if he had just won the New York State Lottery. “I’m in. I’ll get back to you, soon.”

  “Terrific! One more thing, Peter. I want it to be an all stock transaction. No cash.”

  Excited and motivated, Tavaris called Walter Deaks, his friend and confidant. The two were like blood brothers. No secrets. He gave Deaks, chapter and verse, the details of his conversation with Ken Layton. “What do you think?” he asked, certain he could convince his friend to join him.

  Deaks needed time to consider his response. A brilliant man, he was aware of the enormous implications of the proposition, and was smart enough to know he needed time to consider them. “It sounds interesting,” he said with no apparent enthusiasm.

  “Walter, baby!” Tavaris cajoled. “This is the big one. Finally, it’s our chance to get what we’ve worked for and deserved for so long. I just checked Enerco’s stock. As I speak it’s trading above eighty-three bucks. If we cut this deal, we’ll both score big time on our equity. If we make this deal happen, Layton told me he’ll keep Iacardi separate and I’ll be running the show. I’ll make you vice president. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you and I could do then.”

  “You’re going to have to do the selling job of your life, Peter. I’m sure you’re aware that in most cases you’re going to be negotiating with attorneys who are representing the Iacardi widows. In addition, you’ll have to deal with Kerri King. She owns three percent of the stock, and I’m virtually certain she will not want to sell. On more than one occasion she’s told me that Iacardi is her passion, indeed her life. In my opinion, short of torture, you’ll never convince her to sell.”

  “I understand and agree with everything you’ve said. As far as the widows are concerned, they’ll have to understand that Iacardi’s just taken a major body blow, one from which it might not recover. Even if the company did have the money, it’s going to take years to rebuild it, and I don’t think Kerri King has a chance in hell of making that happen. I don’t know about you, Walter, but I’m not prepared to sit around and watch her take my life deeper into the sewer. With or without you I’m going to make this deal happen. If she stands in the way, I’ll bury her. I’ll get leverage on that broad. I’ll do whatever it takes to find her dirty laundry. There’s no way Miss Perfect is perfect.

  “You’re very persuasive. I have difficulty faulting your logic. I’ll call you within twenty-four hours.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Toronto. Monday, 9:45 A.M.

  Kerri rode the elevator to the sixty-fifth floor of The North American Bank Building, a seventy story glass and steel clad structure at the foot of Bay Street, the fulcrum of Toronto’s financial district. She was greeted by six foot five inch DanTurner, now sixty-one, yet as regal and dominating as ever in his black pin-striped suit. He hugged her and uttered his condolences. “I am not capable of understanding your pain. You have my deepest sympathies,” he whispered.

  She returned the hug. “Thanks, Dan. You’re very kind.”

  “Your father said you need help. I’m at your service.”

  “Can we go somewhere private?”

  He led her to his lavishly decorated office in the south west corner of the building. She had seen his commanding view of Lake Ontario ten years earlier, but it still captivated her.

  Once seated, Kerri reminded Turner of their meeting in The Loyalist Restaurant, and of Jim Servito’s stolen money. She went on to tell him the same story she had told Karen and her father in Muskoka: of the residuals from Servito’s ‘estate’, and of the incredible investment success of Miles Dennis. The deeper she proceeded into her story, the more it amazed Turner. His mouth had opened involuntarily, his grey eyes bulged. “That’s incredible! I told your father years ago, and now I’ll tell you. The Kings are by far the most exciting clients I’ve ever had… Please tell me about Miles. Is he still with the company?”

  Kerri’s expression turned morose. “He didn’t make it out,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry. I know he was very close to you.”

  “He was the very best friend I’ve ever had… Now he’s gone.”

  For the first time in his career, Turner had difficulty deciding what to say next. He said nothing, by no means a small achievement for a lawyer.

  Kerri stared at him with reddened eyes. “I want to give every dime of that money to the families of the Iacardi employees who died on Tuesday. I would do it directly, but I have no idea what the status of that money is.”

  “You’re an amazing woman. I’m very proud of you. Given the same set of circumstances, I don’t think there are many people who would choose the same course of action.” The corners of Turner’s mouth turned ever so slightly northward. “You’re not sure if it’s still hot, or not. Am I right?”

  Kerri nodded.

  Technically, it’s not. The Feds have been paid and have signed off on their claim against your father. They were delighted and satisfied then. At the time I don’t think they cared if there was any of Servito’s money left over. Time, however, has a habit of changing things. Since there was no income tax ever paid on that money, it’s likely still categorized as the fruits of crime. Furthermore, you’re sitting on a huge unrealized capital gain… Have you ever declared any of this to the I.R.S.?”

  Kerri shook her head.

  “I’m glad I asked… God knows how much you’ll be penalized for failing to file for ten years. In addition, if a half a billion dollars suddenly hits the street, a lot of people are going to start asking questions, including the Feds. They will likely get greedy… Your father and Karen know about this. Does anyone else? Think about it, Kerri. I can’t tell you how important this is.” He gave her his penetrating stare, leaving no doubt about the sincerity of his question.

  “Nobody!” she replied with emphasis.

  “Okay. Forgive me. I stressed the importance of secrecy. I hope you understand.”

  Kerri nodded.

  “You still want to do this?”

  “With all my heart,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Do you have the history of Miles Dennis’s stewardship of the money?”

  She
reached into her overnight bag and removed a single letter-sized page. She handed it to Turner. Miles wrote this and gave it to me a long time ago. He said he would advise me if anything changes. We spoke about it occasionally, but at my request, he spared me the details of his trades. The entire account, from the beginning, has been with the Geneva branch of Liechtensteinische Comco AG.”

  Turner fastened his reading glasses in place and examined Kerri’s sheet. He nodded. “Good. He included the contact, account number and access code. Do you have any reason to believe this information is incorrect?”

  “None. Miles was the most honest and accurate individual I’ve ever known.”

  “Do you confirm that you are the sole owner of this account?”

  Kerri nodded. “I do.”

  “Okay, here’s what I think. If I were to assist you in any way in the distribution of this money, I would be breaking the law, and that is something I’m not prepared to do. As you know, I stepped way over that line for your father and Karen, but that was then. The rules were a little less stringent then, and I didn’t have as much to lose. I’m simply not about to do it again. I will, however, never be able to thank you and Miles Dennis enough for bringing that ugly chapter to an end. Your father would likely still be in jail if you two hadn’t pulled off that miracle… If you still want to proceed, then you’re going to have to do it yourself, or find someone, ideally in Switzerland where the laws are different, who will do it for you. I suggest that you start with your contact in Liechtensteinische Comco. Finally, I suggest you move with extreme care. You’re dealing with a very dangerous amount of money. If the Feds discover your connection to it, you will likely be in a world of trouble.”

  Kerri showed a hint of a smile. Even though Turner had disappointed her by not agreeing to assist her, his commanding presence and take charge demeanor had given her the confidence she needed, a confidence that gave her the courage to do whatever it took to use her money, hot or not, to provide financial assistance which would enable a very large number of families to grieve with dignity. “Thanks, Dan. You’ve told me what I need to know. I’m sorry you can’t help me, but I understand your position,” she said, then shook his hand and left.

  She exited the North American Bank Building, then walked a block and a half north on Bay Street. She entered the Iacardi Building, an aging but attractive four story structure with grey stucco covered exterior walls and black shuttered windows. Iacardi’s Canadian division occupied the entire building. She took the elevator to the top floor and was greeted with hugs and condolences by all seven members of senior management. All were impeccably dressed in dark blue or black suits. Kerri wore her faded jeans, white sneakers, heavy grey sweat shirt, and brown leather jacket. Her Yankees hat was stuffed in her bag. By sheer force of will she managed to avoid tears.

  Jason Abramson, the stocky balding Managing Director of the Canadian division and a member of the Iacardi board of directors, spoke. “We’ve taken a vote, Kerri. It was unanimous. We’re prepared to do whatever it takes to save the company.”

  “Thanks, Jason,” she replied, moved by his statement and no longer able to stifle her tears. “Let’s go to the boardroom.”

  All eight proceeded to the boardroom and took seats at a heavy round mahogany table for twelve. Kerri made eye contact with each attendee, then spoke. “I’ve had almost a week to live with this nightmare. I’ve been tormented with the choices available to all of us almost constantly. I can’t begin to tell you how gratified I am with your decision.” She allowed a brief smile. “I agree with it, without reservation,” she said, prompting a loud applause.

  She took a sip of water, then continued. “We’re going to have to circle the wagons and pass out ammunition to everyone. Starting now, there will be no rules, no policies, and no limits on the number of hours we all work. If anyone has an idea of how to get things done, do it. Don’t wait for approval. We’ll sort it out later… It’s pretty certain that our New York division has only four employees, so until we replace the ones we’ve lost, the Canadian and European divisions are going to have handle all of the U.S. accounts. Every detail of information related to those accounts is available to you on our New Jersey server. I want it done with professionalism, and I do not want to miss a beat. I’ve made arrangements for all of the U.S. telephone calls to be directed to this office until further notice. Following the conclusion of this meeting I’m flying back to New York with two objectives: the first is to find a new office, the second is to hire people, and to keep on hiring until we have a functioning division.”

  Kerri again made eye contact with each attendee. “Any questions?” she asked.

  “What are you going to use for money?” Abramson asked.

  “That will be taken care of this week,” Kerri replied, avoiding any discussion of her planned use of her Rainy Day Fund for that purpose. “I’ll phone you with the details. Any more questions?”

  Susan Quinn, the only female attendee and employee relations manager, spoke. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the families of all those employees who were lost. They’re going to need some form of income and health care. How on earth are we going to make that happen.”

  Kerri frowned, wishing she could disclose the details of her intended philanthropy, but couldn’t, ever. “That’s a great question, Susan. It’s become my obsession. I wish I had an answer. The best I can do at this point is to tell you it’s one of the reasons we’re all going to have to work our asses off. We’ll all likely have to make sacrifices, some you won’t like.” She paused and stared at Susan. “I can assure you that I won’t stop until I’m certain that those families have the wherewithal to continue their lives with the dignity they deserve.”

  CHAPTER 9

  New York, Monday, 3:00 P.M.

  Waves of emotion, fear and worry tormented Kerri on her flight back to New York. Questions and doubt swirled in her mind. In addition to the enormous effort required to rebuild the New York division of Iacardi, a high priority was to compile the gigantic list of the names and addresses of the estates. That would take time and time was in critically short supply. She took some comfort in the knowledge that her money would eventually be distributed to the estates, and that it would help. She worried, however, that it wouldn’t be close to enough, and that it wouldn’t be on time. The families of the Iacardi victims would need income and health care almost from day one. She worried about replacing the office, furniture, equipment, and computers required to make the business to function. Of primary concern was replacing the staff and management, the heart and soul of any business. She concluded that under no circumstances could she do all of it alone. She needed help, but knew of nobody she could trust enough to do the job the way she wanted it done. Visions of airplanes colliding with buildings continued to plague her. Visions of collapsing buildings brought tears to her eyes.

  Within minutes of entering her Tribeca apartment she called Marsha Cooper, Iacardi’s outside attorney. Marsha, a forty-eight year old corporate law specialist and partner in the firm of Kaplan, Mendoza and Cooper, had been on retainer with Iacardi since Kerri’s appointment as president. She delegated to Cooper the enormous job of contacting the families and attorneys and trustees representing the families and estates of the Iacardi victims. “I want a complete and accurate list, Marsha, and I want it as fast as you can prepare it,” she ordered. “I’m trying to make arrangements to have a significant amount of money distributed to the estates and I don’t want anyone to know that I did it, or where it came from. I want lawyer client privilege on that item. Any questions?”

  “Where are you going to get a significant amount of money?”

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “Okay, then I’ll get right on your list. Let me know if I can do anything else.”

  “You can.”

  “What?”

  I own a trading account with Iacardi. I plan to have it liquidated as soon as possible. It shouldn’t take l
ong because I expect all of our trading accounts to be up and running before the end of this week. I want you to set up an unsecured loan to Iacardi and Sons with the entire cash value of the account. I want it to pay zero percent for the first year and prime plus one percent thereafter, and callable only in the event I’m no longer president of the company. I’ll call you with the details of the account.

  “How much is it?”

  “Approximately a hundred and two million. I want to keep two, so please do the paperwork on a hundred million.”

  “Holy shit, Kerri! Where on earth did you get that kind of money?”

  “Long story. I had a boyfriend a long time ago. He died and left his entire estate to me,” she said, neglecting to mention that she killed him while he was raping her. “I was in love with him until I found out he was a nutcase. I put that money into a trading account with Miles Dennis a little over ten years ago. He did an amazing job with that account. That’s the short version. I’ll give you the long one later.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “A very large number of people are going to need continuing income from Iacardi. That won’t happen unless the company survives and thrives. It’s going to need money to do that, and I happen to be in a position to provide it.”

  “You’re a saint, Kerri King. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Next, Kerri called four commercial real estate companies, gave each her specifications, and asked for presentations. She wanted to avoid the tedious and time consuming process of appointments and touring buildings, particularly those that wouldn’t qualify under any circumstances. She planned to visit only those buildings that had a chance of becoming the new Iacardi headquarters.

  Her next call was to Martin Petrie, president of Selections Inc., a head hunter used exclusively by Iacardi for over ten years. She told Petrie she needed a vice president of human resources, a no nonsense individual capable of hiring a lot of good people in a hurry.