by O. L. Casper
“What would the lovely Miss Julie prefer?”
“The beach, please.”
I followed the two of them in the direction of the crashing waves. I knew the sound of the ocean would somewhat mask the conversation for the FBI and it was my way of further asserting what little control I now had over the situation. I wondered why Stafford told the man I was Julie. I assumed it was for my safety, but if this was a legit meeting, I didn’t know why such a precaution was necessary.
“I am here to make you an offer to buy the business. I have heard you are a serious man of business and not one to beat around the bush, as they say, so I am ready to begin if you are,” said Massood.
“I’m ready. Are you, Julie?”
“Go for it.”
“I have a figure for you here.”
Massood pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Stafford. I smiled inwardly, thinking about how this would further confound the FBI.
“I’ve done my own calculations with the firm,” said Stafford.
“And…”
“That would be high by about $750,000.”
“Seven hundred fifty-thousand. I see.”
He seemed to be thinking it over in his head.
“Why?”
“Considering the economy and your lower volume of sales in the last quarter—we think our price fits the projections. We don’t figure we stand to earn a lot on this deal. I’m sorry if you find our number too low. Unfortunately, in times like these, we cannot do better than that.”
“Life is a gamble. I understand perfectly. We expected you to come back with something lower. Just not that low. What is your perception of the textile industry? How do you think it will fare on the whole in the next—say—ten years?”
“It’s a great industry. Once the economy recovers substantially it is only onward and upward. An essential industry. We just don’t know when the economy will recover. Therefore we don’t know if we can maintain the standards of the company provided the strong possibility it will bleed money in years to come. That is, before a full economic recovery.”
Stafford seemed tired and disengaged for the course of the conversation.
A member of the hotel staff approached us on the beach. A light rain commenced and we all headed back to the bar with him. He handed Stafford a card on the way back.
Stafford pocketed the card and the three of us sat at a table not far from where Carter sat behind his menu. For a moment Stafford sized up the Pakistani. Then he said, “I’ve got to make a call. Excuse me for a minute.”
“By all means.”
Stafford went to the bar.
“Julie, tell me about yourself. You are a good friend of Mr. Mark, no?”
“We’ve known each other for a time.”
“I see. He’s a good man. A stellar reputation in business. I’m quite happy he consented to meeting with me. I know he will buy. I feel it in my bones. I believe that is the English expression.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“You are very beautiful, Julie.”
I wondered why he repeated it.
“Thank you.”
Stafford came back to the table.
“I’d like to acquire your company. I’m sure we can agree on a price. Is it possible for you to meet with a member of my team later in the day to hash out the details?”
“Of course. You name the time and the place.”
Stafford smiled as we stood up.