“A billion dollars, Bob?” Andrews’ voice rose unsteadily. “You must be kidding. I need to take money out of the company to fund my campaign, not have to put money in. A billion dollars? That would be three hundred million dollars to me.” The news was not unexpected. Howitt had been telling Andrews that the picture was bad for more than a year. But it was still tremendously unsettling to hear the actual number. Three hundred million.
Howitt swallowed. “I know, I know.” He glanced at Robin. “And we here at the company appreciate what you’ve done over the past year to help out.”
Robin glanced quickly at Andrews. What did that mean?
“Look, we’re working hard to turn this thing around,” Howitt continued.
“Work harder.” The vice president’s voice was ice cold.
“It’s just this damn power train recall at General Motors. That’s costing us five hundred thousand a day, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“When will the recall be over? When will you have replaced all the defective parts?”
“Another month.”
Andrews gritted his teeth. Howitt had gone to GM too fast with the new power train design. Much too fast. He had told him not to go, but Howitt had gone anyway. Now they were paying the price. He was seething inside but did not let it show. “Fine. Here’s what you are going to do, Bob. You are going to keep the bankers at bay. Don’t pay too much attention to them. If you do, they’ll know something’s up. Just keep them away from the books. Do whatever you have to do, but don’t let them hear about the fact that this company is bleeding one and a half million dollars a day.”
“Yes, sir.” Howitt looked at Andrews meekly. He knew what Andrews was thinking. “Do you anticipate that the family will be able to put anything into the company?” He did not want to ask the question, but he had to. The banks would ask, and he had to have an answer.
The vice president shook his head, then glanced at Robin. “Not right away. We are”—he paused—“exploring several different avenues.”
“Such as?” Howitt wanted to know exactly what that meant.
“I am going to be meeting with investment bankers in New York very soon. They may be able to help us. They may be able to raise us quite a bit of long-term money.”
“Who?” Howitt perked up suddenly. He had been trying to persuade Andrews to allow him to go to the New York moneymen for months, but Andrews would not hear of it. The vice president was petrified that if a couple of people on the Street found out about the company’s financial difficulties, the news would be on Bloomberg the next day. Andrews had made it clear that he didn’t trust investment bankers. He knew that they would release the information to the press because that action would force the company into naming an adviser, and then the firm that won the advisory mandate could begin accruing its huge fee immediately.
“I am meeting with the most senior person at one of the top firms on Wall Street.” Andrews thought of the strange-looking man who headed Walker Pryce & Company for a moment. He could not be too specific, but he had to tell Howitt something. The vice president did not want him jumping ship at this point. By all rights he should fire Howitt now. At this meeting, for God’s sake. But then the Street would hear that Howitt had been canned and that a new president of Andrews Industries had been named. And the sharks would start smelling blood. That was something that could be disastrous. So Howitt was insulated from harm, ironically as a result of the problem the man had caused himself, Andrews thought.
“Who?”
“Stop with the whos, for Christ’s sake. What are you, a damn owl?” He wanted to deflect Howitt away from the question.
“I’m sorry, I just want to see this thing get better.”
“We all do.” Andrews used a soothing tone. “Trust me, Bob.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Bob, I want you to start laying people off. Nothing major, just a couple of hundred people here and there. No one here in Detroit and no one at our plants in the small towns. Nowhere that would have a big impact on the economy or in big enough numbers to attract attention. We want no press. None at all. I realize we have never enforced layoffs before, but at this point we have no choice. We have to conserve cash. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Howitt’s eyes dropped to the table.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Howitt rose, shook the vice president’s hand, and moved slowly toward the conference room door.
Andrews rubbed his forehead. A billion dollars to the family. Three hundred million to him. He could feel a headache coming on.
Robin took his right hand and began to massage it again. It would be a difficult flight back to Washington.
* * *
—
“You are certain Schuler will come through with the commitment from Chase?” Webster’s eyes burned.
“Almost,” Leeny murmured quietly.
“Almost isn’t good enough.” Webster’s awful voice knifed through the air. “We need that commitment as fast as possible. We must be certain Schuler gets us that money.”
“I’m doing everything I can do.” Leeny was becoming exasperated.
“Are you?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. She knew what he was driving at, and the thought disgusted her. Mace McLain was one thing. But the little Chase banker was another.
Webster pointed a long yellow fingernail at her. “I want you to do absolutely everything you can do to get the money. Do you understand me?”
She stared at him evenly but said nothing.
A smile slowly enveloped Webster’s face. “I’d hate to have to relay the fact that you weren’t giving your all for the mission.”
Leeny turned away from Webster. She hated him so much.
* * *
—
Vargus watched Tabiq, his second-in-command, as the other man pulled on his gloves. It was cold in the tiny cinder-block-walled office, and they both wore heavy coats. But it was nothing compared with the cold outside. The mountains of West Virginia had been hit with a horrible cold spell. In the past two days the temperature had not risen above ten degrees Fahrenheit.
“What are you saying?” Vargus asked gruffly.
Tabiq hesitated. Vargus was not one to annoy. He would choose his words carefully. “The men have been training hard. They are ready.”
“Yes.” Vargus increased the intensity of his voice. He sensed insubordination, and there could be none of that.
“How much longer will it be?”
“Are the men becoming impatient? Is that why you are here?”
Again Tabiq hesitated. “A few have asked questions. And you know as well as I that if a few have asked, they all are wondering.”
Vargus reached for the bag of sunflower seeds on the small desk. His eyes narrowed. “You tell them it will not be long now.” He pushed a handful of seeds into his mouth. “And give them tomorrow off.”
Tabiq nodded, then rose from his chair. That would help, but it wouldn’t stop all the grumbling. He turned to go.
“One more thing, Tabiq.”
Tabiq turned back toward Vargus. “Yes?”
Vargus broke into a toothy grin. “You know those boxes in the shed where we’ve stored the two bodies?”
“Yes.”
“It’s twenty cases of vodka. Let them at it tonight.”
It was Tabiq’s turn to smile. Vargus always had an ace in the hole. Always.
15
Mace held open the front door of One If By Land Two If By Sea, the popular Greenwich Village restaurant. Rachel moved smoothly past him through the doorway and into the venerable dining establishment. He had picked her up a half hour ago in the limousine and was looking forward to this dinner immensely. Not only because he had some very good news for her but also because he had missed her. Broadway Ventures was beg
inning to consume him, as he knew it would, and he hadn’t had any time to talk with her, even after class the last few times. Tonight would be a wonderful evening in many ways. He had that feeling.
“Thank you,” Rachel said, pausing only long enough at the doorway to touch his chin with a fingernail.
Mace smelled her subtle perfume as she passed by him. It was pleasing, and he breathed again, this time more deeply.
Rachel began to remove her ankle-length winter coat, but Mace moved quickly behind her, taking it by the shoulders, moving it down and off both arms simultaneously.
“You certainly are a gentleman, Mr. McLain,” she whispered over her shoulder.
“Not always.” He winked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing.” Mace handed Rachel’s coat to the woman who would check it, then stopped, shook his head, and smiled. She wore a stylish black dress, cut off the shoulders. It ended well above her knees and clung sexily to her body, accentuating her figure. Sheer black stockings covered her toned legs, and she wore a pair of black suede high heels to match the stockings. Her hair, worn up, revealed the soft skin of her delicate shoulders. “Why do you hide all this underneath those baggy sweaters and jeans you wear to class all the time?”
Embarrassed, Rachel brought a hand to her face to hide a smile. “Can we please get to the table?”
The maître d’ led them to a small, cozy table in the back of the room, away from two large parties near the front. It would be quiet here, and it was the table Mace had requested. The man held Rachel’s chair, then put the menu and the wine list down at the other place setting for Mace.
“Thank you,” Mace said as he slid into the comfortable chair.
The maître d’ nodded. “Bon appétit.” And he was gone.
For an hour and a half they ate, drank, and talked. Rachel did not ask Mace if there was a special reason he had called yesterday and insisted upon the meeting, as he had termed it on the phone, and he did not volunteer a reason or tell her why the “meeting” had become dinner. They did not discuss business or anything remotely related to it. They exchanged details on each other’s backgrounds. They exchanged philosophies. They talked politics and religion, and though they did not agree on everything, it did not matter. They were having too good a time.
“Now, tell me about this new project you are working on,” Rachel said, finally bringing Walker Pryce into the conversation, “the one you mentioned to me in your office the other day. You said you would tell me about it if I went out to dinner with you.” She smiled. “Here I am.”
Mace hesitated. It might not be a good idea to tell her too much about the fund.
She reached across the table and touched his hand gently, sensing his hesitation. “I’m trustworthy. You know that.”
Of course she was, he thought to himself. She conveyed her sincerity so easily. “Well, okay. But I can’t tell you too much.”
She nodded and folded her hands before her.
For the next several minutes Mace explained in vague terms the nature of Broadway Ventures—its size, scope, and general objectives.
Rachel listened intently, interrupting to ask several pointed questions during his explanation. When he finished, she shook her head. “I shouldn’t be criticizing Lewis Webster because I guess he can decide whether or not to hire me, but the fund seems risky.”
Mace pursed his lips several times before answering. “It could work. It could work very well in fact, and Lewis Webster has an uncanny ability to predict swings in markets. That’s one of the reasons he is senior partner. But if you noticed hesitation in my voice, I wouldn’t deny it. Of course Lewis Webster can make or break my career too. He gave me a direct order to help him on this. So I don’t have much of a choice of whether or not to be involved, do I?”
Rachel smiled. “No, I guess not.” Her expression slowly changed. “What is Leeny Hunt’s role in all this?” She did not want to break the mood, but she had to know.
Mace ignored the hard edge to Rachel’s tone. “Leeny is in charge of raising the equity money.”
“Can’t you do that?”
Mace shook his head. “Webster wanted to raise the money from wealthy families to enable us to keep the whole thing very quiet. I know the institutional money in this country, not the family money. Which reminds me. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
“You know I won’t say a word.” She hesitated. She knew she would be pushing with the next question. “Which families?”
“The Stillmans out of Pittsburgh, the Bass brothers, Sam Walton’s family, the Rockefellers, and several others.”
“That’s it?”
“There are others.”
“How many others?”
“I think she said she was going to about eight families in all. Maybe ten.”
“Just ten? That’s all? She’s going to raise a billion dollars from ten families?”
Mace nodded.
“That will be difficult.”
Mace shrugged. “She’s already got circles for three hundred million dollars of it.”
Rachel leaned back in her chair. “How much are the Stillmans going to invest?”
“I don’t know exactly. She’s been pretty close-mouthed about it all. But I would say she’s expecting a minimum of a hundred million from them. Maybe even two.”
“No way,” Rachel said quickly. “I know one of their portfolio managers very well as a result of this fund I run for Columbia. The Stillman family’s limit is fifty million dollars in any single fund.”
Mace shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe they are making an exception in this case.” What Rachel was saying made sense. Everybody had limits imposed to ensure diversification and as a mechanism to protect against fraud. He didn’t have an answer. “Look, Leeny has a good track record. She worked at KKR and then LeClair and Foster. She checks out. And what difference does it make as long as the money is there?”
Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, pouted for a few moments, and then smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m making too big a deal out of it.” But she couldn’t help herself. Leeny Hunt was the competition. She had sensed that about the other woman in the classroom and in Webster’s office. Leeny had attempted to be nice, to come off as a friend. But she had been too nice.
The waiter quickly cleared away the plates from the main course. When he finished, Mace leaned back in his chair and stared at Rachel. Her eyes shimmered in the glow of the candlelight. They were having an even better time than he had anticipated. He shook his head. It was such a shame.
“What are you smiling at?” Rachel’s voice was soft.
Mace shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “A very beautiful woman.” The red wine had increased his ability to be direct with her—and his desire.
“Thank you.” Rachel was not unaware of her beauty. She glanced into her lap and then slowly back up at him. The wine had affected her exactly as it had Mace.
“Yes, a very beautiful woman”—Mace began again as he put down the coffee cup—“who is about to begin a very lucrative career on Wall Street.”
She looked at him curiously. There was something strange in his tone. “What are you talking about?”
He leaned forward over the white linen tablecloth. “The results have been tabulated, and the verdict is in.”
Rachel leaned over the table as well. “Will you please explain yourself?” But she knew what he was about to say. A thrill coursed through her body.
“Fred Forsythe, head of Human Resources, asked me yesterday to inform you that Walker Pryce will be making you an offer of employment as an associate in our Corporate Finance Department.” Mace paused. “A very generous offer, I might add.” He glanced about the tastefully decorated restaurant. “I thought this might be a nice atmosphere for you to hear the news.”
Ra
chel reached across the small table and clasped his left arm with both her hands. Her fingernails dug into his skin. “You jerk,” she whispered. “You made me wait this entire time before you told me.” But she could not hide the smile enveloping her face.
Mace took her hands in his. “But now we have something to celebrate.” He glanced at his watch. “If I had told you at the beginning of dinner, you might be over the excitement by now, and then you’d tell me that you have to go home to watch over that portfolio of yours. Now I can keep you out a little longer, ply you with more wine, and get your acceptance to our offer in writing tonight so you don’t have a chance to call the other places and get them to up their offers.”
“You can keep me out as late as you want,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing. I need more wine.” She took her hands from his and reached for her still half-full glass. Her knees were weak.
“Do you want to hear specifics, or should we wait?”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t want to wait. Tell me now.”
Mace took a sip from his glass, then replaced it on the table. Suddenly his expression turned solemn. “First of all, you must keep every detail of your offer completely confidential. We are not like other firms, which make equal offers to all their first-year people. You will be the highest-salaried first-year associate at the firm. And if you perform up to expectations, you will earn the highest bonus as well.”
She gazed at him over the glass. The highest-paid first-year associate at Walker Pryce. At Walker Pryce, where the blood was as blue as blue got. It was incredible.
“You must keep all this completely to yourself. Do you understand?”
She nodded, but she could barely focus on him.
“Okay.” He lowered his voice. “Well, your annual salary will be one hundred thousand dollars. And you have the opportunity to earn up to twice your salary in bonus in the first year, which I have no doubt you will do. Of course that multiple will increase quickly after the first year. You could be earning as much as half a million dollars by your third year, maybe more. It really depends on how badly you want it. Of course we will formalize all this in a letter.”
The Vulture Fund Page 17