Fast and Loose

15

Erik Macher read the note on his desk. He hammered his fist on the buttons before him, and people appeared from everywhere.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded of them.

Glances were exchanged, then a young man got brave. “It’s in this morning’s Wall Street Journal,” he said.

Macher grabbed the unread paper on his desk and saw the front-page headline. “Someone has offered fifty percent more than our offer?”

“The Carlsson family has made the offer,” the young man said.

“What is your name?”

“Charles Fox,” he replied.

“How can we stop this?”

“We can’t stop it,” Fox said, “we can only outbid them.”

“I had figured on a twenty-five percent increase, if we encountered opposition among the stockholders,” Macher said, “but fifty percent?”

“You could offer seventy-five percent more.”

“Not a chance!”

“Well, the article does quote an unnamed source as saying that they are likely to get enough shares from this offer for the family to hold a majority, as they once did.”

“Is the clinic worth seventy-five percent more?”

“Perhaps,” Fox said, “but if you offer that, the clinic could still top it. It’s probably worth more to the family than to St. Clair.”

“Such a prestigious name, though.”

“The article says that stockholders will receive the offer this morning, and that the Carlssons have included a FedEx return envelope, so if they respond quickly, there may not even be time to increase our offer.”

“But our offer doesn’t expire for, what, another two or three weeks?”

“It doesn’t matter, they don’t have to respond. They can just take the Carlssons’ offer.”

Macher was visibly fuming. “What should I do?”

Fox kept quiet.

“Well?”

“Perhaps look for another investment,” Fox said at last.

“How long have you been here, Fox?”

“Mr. St. Clair hired me two weeks before he... left us.”

“Why shouldn’t I bid higher?”

“Mr. St. Clair acted unilaterally,” Fox said, “as I’m told he often did. I’ve checked, and we don’t have any documents that would substantiate what the clinic is worth. Either he had inside information, or he just made a guess. An increase in your offer might do it, or it might not — it’s a toss-up.”

Macher thought about it; he did not relish telling the board that he had gambled on a guess about the value of the clinic.

“In the circumstances, it’s possible,” Fox said, “that the clinic isn’t worth what Mr. St. Clair bid for it. We have no way of knowing.”

“What did St. Clair hire you to do?” Macher asked.

“I think just as a general executive. I’ve been working at Goldman Sachs since college.”

“Were you a partner?”

“Yes, but his offer was so good, I took it.”

“What are we paying you?”

Fox told him.

Macher was impressed; this kid was earning almost as much as he was before his ascension to CEO. “Well,” he said, “you’d better earn it. Get out of here, Fox.”

Charles fox left the room and returned to his office next door. He was glad Macher had not grilled him on his job before Goldman Sachs. He closed his office door, sat down at his desk, removed a burner cell phone from a desk drawer, and pressed a button.

“I’m here,” Ed Rawls said.

“I thought you’d like to know that Macher read the Journal piece and hit the roof.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

“I’m not sure, but he may just drop out. In any case, by tomorrow the Carlssons could have a majority again. I did what I could to discourage a better offer, but he could jump either way. I don’t know him well enough to predict his actions.”

“Thanks, kid. Keep in touch.”

“Sure.” Fox hung up. Christian St. Clair had promised him the moon to get him away from Goldman Sachs, but as far as he could tell, St. Clair had not mentioned his hiring to anyone else, let alone told them about the promises he had made to him. Fox had expected to be running the place in a year or two, but now Macher sat where he wanted to sit, and he was going to have to get the man out before he could advance.

Ed rawls immediately called Stone Barrington and told him what he’d learned.

“That’s good news,” Stone said. “I’m glad we rushed the offer. This guy of yours must be very well placed.”

“He is very well placed, indeed,” Ed said.

“Come on, Ed, tell me his name. If you walk in front of a bus I don’t want to lose the guy.”

“I don’t want you communicating with him directly,” Rawls said.

“I promise not to without your permission, or until you turn up your toes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ed said.

“Is your line of communication two-way?”

“It is. Either of us can communicate at will. I should also mention that he has an ‘in’ at the Wall Street Journal. That’s how the story got on the front page this morning.”

“What story?” Stone asked.

“Read the paper.” Rawls hung up.

Stone found his copy and read the story. Oh, this was good; Macher must have choked on his breakfast when he saw this. He called Paul Carlsson.

“Good morning, Stone.”

“Good morning, Paul. Have you read the Wall Street Journal this morning?”

“I have. I assume you planted the story.”

“I wish I’d thought of it, but I didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“An acquaintance of an acquaintance of mine.”

“I take it you don’t want to tell me who.”

“It’s not someone you know in any case. Suffice it to say he has at least one friend at St. Clair Enterprises.”

“Do you know him?”

“No, it’s all third party.”

“I must admit, Stone, I’m anxious about the counter offer.”

“We should have some idea of how we’re doing when FedEx delivers tomorrow morning,” Stone replied.

“I’ll try and be patient,” Paul said.

“So will I.” They said goodbye and hung up.