Fast and Loose

35

Stone tossed the documents onto the coffee table. “Charley,” he said, “I think you’ve done a great job of placing values on these companies. In fact, I think you’ve been a little conservative. I believe they might be worth fifty or a hundred million more.”

“I’ve been looking at these values since I joined St. Clair,” Charley said, “so I’ve had plenty of time to come to my conclusions. However, I hope you are right. Now, how are we going to come up with half a billion dollars?”

“Mike and I have been talking about that,” Stone said, “and I think we have a way forward. Mike and I can come up with seventy-five million each from our own resources.”

“And go to Marcel duBois and your lottery winner for the rest?”

“No. As you may know, my late wife, Arrington, had been previously married to the actor Vance Calder.”

“I don’t think I did know that,” Charley replied. “I know about Calder, though — that in addition to being a top star, he was a terrific businessman.”

“He was, and his estate ran to something over a billion dollars. He left everything to Arrington, and after our marriage I oversaw the liquidation of most of his estate, mostly real estate, with the result that when Arrington died, she mostly held stock in Centurion Studios and in cash. My law firm had prepared her will, without my participation, or even knowledge of its terms. She left me a third of her estate and two-thirds to our son, Peter, in a trust of which I am the sole trustee. Peter doesn’t come into it until he’s thirty, but I have consulted him about the investments I’ve made for the trust. I think it would be a good use of the cash in the trust to invest three hundred million of it in Triangle, and use those funds to close the sale. I’ll talk with Peter about it right away and confirm that.”

“Great, but we’re still missing fifty million.”

“Mike and I are going to loan you that, secured by your share of the partnership, and you can repay the loan as profits come in from the sale of the St. Clair companies.”

“That’s extraordinarily generous of you both,” Charley replied, moved.

“This transaction was your idea, and you brought the knowledge and skills to bear to make it happen. You deserve to be rewarded for that.”

“There’s something else I haven’t mentioned,” Charley said. “I think that three of the companies have come to the point where they can go public in the next year or so, and with our majority ownership, we will reap a huge profit from the initial public offering, and so will the original stockholders who sold to St. Clair. I think everybody will be very, very happy.”

“Are there others on the list that can have IPOs later?” Mike asked.

“Most of them. Those that aren’t ready we can sell separately.”

“That’s wonderful, Charley,” Stone said. “Something else that Mike and I think you deserve is occupancy of St. Clair’s apartment in the building.”

Charley broke into a grin. “I can’t say that that hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Also, the yacht is owned by a Delaware corporation. We can sell that to ourselves, and Mike and I will loan you the money to buy your third. It shouldn’t take you long to reap enough from the IPOs to repay it.”

“Also,” Mike said, “there are two airplanes and a helicopter owned by St. Clair. Strategic Services will buy one, and we can sell the helicopter, since none of us has much use for it. We can keep the other airplane as a Triangle company aircraft.”

“What are the two airplanes?” Stone asked.

“One is a Gulfstream 450, which we will buy, if you agree. The other is a very new airplane from Cessna, a Citation Latitude, which has a big cabin and a range of twenty-seven hundred miles. It can live in our hangar complex at Teterboro.”

“Suddenly, it seems,” Charley said, “that all my personal needs have been taken care of.” The three of them shook hands and parted company for the evening.

Stone headed home to call Peter, and then to have dinner and meet the personal needs of Marisa Carlsson.

Erik Macher was sitting at his desk the following morning when the board of directors of St. Clair Enterprises arrived, in the company of someone he didn’t know, who was introduced as St. Clair’s new corporate counsel. They all seated themselves at Macher’s conference table.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Macher said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Believe me, Mr. Macher,” Elihu Barnes said, “the pleasure is all ours. By a unanimous vote of the board, you are discharged from your position as CEO of St. Clair Enterprises, with immediate effect.”

“Gentlemen,” Macher replied, unperturbed, “I refer you to the will of Christian St. Clair, which denies you the authority for such an act.”

“The will has been found to be fraudulent,” Barnes said, with obvious satisfaction, “which is why Thomas Berenson is no longer our corporate counsel. Therefore, none of its provisions apply to our action. The matter rests with the district attorney, and I expect you will be hearing from him shortly. We welcome a civil action on your part, should you be unwise enough to bring it.”

“This is outrageous!” Macher spat.

“No, the will was outrageous,” Barnes replied. “Outside this room are two security guards who will escort you to the apartment upstairs and oversee the packing of such of your belongings there. There is a moving company present with a van to haul them away. You have one hour to clear the premises or be forcibly removed.”

Macher’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, also, you may inform Jake Herman and your secretary that they have been discharged as well. Herman will depart the premises immediately, and your secretary may have an hour to pack her things and have them removed. The van, upon departing, will deliver both your belongings to any address in Manhattan.”

“I can’t believe this,” Macher said.

“Good day and goodbye, Mr. Macher,” Barnes said. “Now get out, or we’ll have you thrown out.”

Macher stood up, went to his desk, and put a few things into his briefcase. He rang for his secretary, and she entered. He walked her into the vestibule outside. “You and I have been fired out of hand,” he said to her. “Go and pack your things, and they will be moved for you. We have an hour. Oh, and go see Jake Herman and tell him he has been fired, too, and to clear his office.”

She went pale. “Yes, sir,” she said.

Two burly, uniformed security guards stepped forward and marched Macher upstairs to the apartment, followed by a team of moving men.

A volcanic anger began to build in Macher’s breast.