Part 37 (1/2)
”How do you know?”
”I'm having Strazzi followed. The widow showed up at his office about an hour ago.”
”Are your McGuire guys tailing him?”
Gillette shook his head. ”No, I-”
”Christian hired an outside firm,” Cohen interrupted. He was sitting in the chair beside Gillette's.
”Why?”
”We don't trust Tom McGuire,” Cohen said bluntly.
”Oh?”
”We may be taking McGuire & Company public soon,” Cohen continued. ”Earlier this week, Tom asked Christian about buying the company back. But at a much lower price than what the investment bankers are talking about in the IPO. Tom wasn't very happy when he found out we were thinking about taking the company public.”
”I'm sure he wasn't.” Whitman moved to a small refrigerator near Gillette's desk and pulled out a c.o.ke. ”You guys want anything?”
Both of them shook their heads.
”So you hired another security company to follow Strazzi just because of that?” Whitman asked, popping open the can as he sat back down. ”Because you thought McGuire would be p.i.s.sed off about not getting the company, and he might not tell you who Strazzi was meeting with? Or maybe tell Strazzi he'd been hired to tail him? Was that it?”
”It's more than that,” Gillette answered. ”You remember my limousine exploding at Donovan's funeral?”
”Of course.”
”Well, there've been two more attempts on my life this week.”
Whitman straightened up in the chair. ”My G.o.d. What the h.e.l.l's going on?”
”I don't know. But when Tom approached me about buying the company and I realized he had a conflict, I hired another firm. Partly because of that conversation you and I had at your place earlier this week. Remember? You asked if I could really trust him.”
”Sure I remember.”
”I'm glad I decided to do that,” Gillette said. ”The man I hired has turned out to be very good.”
”Thorough, too,” Whitman agreed. ”I was basically strip-searched before I could come in here.”
”Sorry about that, Miles, but, given the circ.u.mstances, I've got to listen to what my guy's telling me.”
”When it's the kind of money that's involved here, I couldn't agree more.” Whitman took a deep breath. ”It's just a d.a.m.n shame.”
Gillette looked over at Whitman. ”What is?”
”Everything. Dominion. Congressman Allen's press conference today. Strazzi going after the widow's stake.” Whitman grimaced. ”Unfortunately, I think it's going to put an end to your fund-raising. At least for a while.”
Gillette ran his fingers through his hair. ”If Strazzi gets the widow's stake, I don't think I'll be worrying too much about fund-raising. I'll be looking for another job.”
Whitman nodded deliberately. ”You're right. He'll install himself as the-”
Gillette's cell phone rang, interrupting Whitman.
Gillette picked it up off the coffee table and checked the display. It was Vicky. ”h.e.l.lo.” As he listened to what she was saying, his expression turned grim. ”Thanks.”
”Who was that?” Cohen asked.
”An acquaintance.”
”What's wrong?” Whitman asked.
Gillette took a deep breath. ”The widow just agreed to sell her Everest stake to Strazzi for $2.25 billion.” Gillette had gotten Mason's files, but it hadn't stopped Strazzi from getting what he wanted. Strazzi and Stockman had been able to scare the widow into selling her stake using Dominion's crash as the stick. ”The transaction is closing Monday.”
At least Stockman was going to get his for being involved, Gillette thought to himself. That was about the only thing he could take solace in at this point.
”So, Ben, are you now officially the chief operating officer of Everest Capital?” Whitman asked.
Cohen's eyes flashed to Gillette's. ”Um, I, uh . . .” Cohen's voice trailed off. ”Christian, I didn't tell anyone anything about this. I swear to you.”
Gillette nodded at Whitman. ”Yeah, I told Miles the other day.” Cohen had that deer-in-the-headlights look. But why? ”Well, actually, Miles asked if there had been any organizational changes and I told him I was promoting you.”
”Oh,” Cohen said quietly.
Suddenly Cohen seemed very uncomfortable, Gillette realized.
”I just don't want you to think I've been blabbing this all around,” Cohen added.
”I'm sure you haven't,” Gillette agreed. ”Besides, it's no big deal if you have.”
”So, is Ben officially chief operating officer?” Whitman asked again.
Gillette turned to Whitman. ”Yes, he is.”
Stiles pressed his arm against the pocket of his jacket, making certain the envelope was there. Then he moved out of the dark Manhattan doorway and fell in behind a man in a long winter coat who'd just pa.s.sed by.
At the corner the man stopped, waiting for the traffic light to change. Rubbing his hands together to try to keep them warm as traffic roared by in front of him on Fifth Avenue.
”Chilly out tonight,” Stiles said cheerfully as he ambled up beside the man.
The man gave Stiles a quick up and down. ”Yeah, chilly,” he agreed indifferently.
Stiles pointed at him. ”Hey, I recognize you.”
The man stopped rubbing his hands together, a curious expression coming to his face. ”Oh?”
”Yeah,” Stiles continued, ”I saw you on television today when Senator Stockman made his announcement about running for president. You were behind him along with some other people. Right?”