Geneva Connection, The (2 page)

“Don’t be so defensive. It’s good, but this is better.” Kent rolled his chair sideways so he could see his two partners.
They’re going to like this
.

“I’m all ears. Can’t imagine what I’ve missed.” Kirkland looked as if she was sucking on a lemon.

“I want to can the German business as soon as we complete the rescue financing.”

“Doug Wright will go ballistic. That subsidiary is his baby,” said Kirkland. “It’ll never happen.”

“He’ll have to live with it if he wants our money. If he doesn’t, he can watch his entire group go over the cliff. It’s his choice.”

“How does that improve the deal for us?” asked Johnson, sitting on the arm of the other sofa. He took a sip of tea from an oversize mug with The World’s Greatest Investor printed on it.

“I’m coming to that,” said Kent. “It’s losing too much money. We can release a lot of cash by shutting it down. If we take a charge on the German assets, we’ll get the proceeds when we flog them off and none of it will be wasted on the creditors.”

Johnson smiled. “I like it. Who said private equity houses were money-grabbing asset strippers?”

Kent laughed.

Kirkland kept a straight face. “Wright won’t wear it.”

She’s only pissed off because she didn’t come up with the idea herself
, thought Kent.

“He’s not calling the shots. This is our deal, not his. Anyway, he won’t know. We’ll only tell him once the investment’s completed,” he said.

“Surely, we have to tell the CEO?” said Kirkland.

“I’m with John. Wright doesn’t need to know,” said Johnson, finishing his tea. “Right, I can’t sit about here all day chatting to you lot; got to get on with the drawdown notices.”

“Don’t send the one to Grampian Capital. If Paul’s still stuck in New York, I’ll ask him to take it over in person,” said Kent.

“I can e-mail it just as easy.”

“I don’t want to give them any excuse to delay coughing up the money. Any idea why they were late last time?”

“No. I never did find out. It’s not like them. Want me to have a word with their CFO?”

“Leave it to Paul. I don’t want to embarrass them.”

“These big institutions are a bureaucratic nightmare. I’m sure it was just a cock-up at their end.”

“I hope so. I hate being so reliant on Grampian.”

“Three quarters of our fund. I’d say that counts as reliant,” said Johnson as he left the office.

Kent turned to Kirkland. “Have you issued our formal offer letter to Wright yet, Joanna?”

“Did it yesterday. Still waiting for him to sign it,” she replied. “He told me first thing this morning he’ll be standing down the other private equity firm he’s been talking to and will then sign our offer.”

“Don’t give him any longer than five o’clock to have it back to us. I don’t want him showing our terms to the other firm. He’s a smart-ass, so I wouldn’t put anything past him. I’ve been shafted by people like him too many times before.”

Kirkland returned to her own office after the meeting.

“Tara, can you come in for a moment?” shouted Kent from his desk. She was wearing a thin white blouse, partially revealing her bra and the outline of her firm breasts. When she sat, unfortunately, her wavy brown hair obscured Kent’s view.

“Is Paul back from New York yet?” he asked, trying not to make it obvious where he was looking.

“No. He’s still struggling to find a flight. I heard on TV last night that they think the air traffic controllers’ strike could go on for days. He said he’s thinking of catching a flight to mainland Europe then making his way to the UK by train.”

“Actually, I’m glad he’s still over there. I’ve got some work for him. Once Adrian has prepared Grampian’s drawdown notice, e-mail it to Paul and ask him to take it over there to talk them through the deal. That should speed things up at their end.”

A silver Bentley collected the American executive from the underground garage of the lower Manhattan office tower.

“The apartment,” he said as the driver held open the door.

The car drove onto West Street and pushed its way into the heavy traffic.

“Beautiful day, Mr. Schaeffer,” said the driver, peering up at the clear blue sky.

“Is it?” Schaeffer did not look up from his papers. He pressed the button to close the privacy screen then flipped open his cell phone and hit one of his speed-dials.

“Tom Grannis,” said the voice at the other end.

“It’s Dan.”

“Have you heard?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago. They won’t help.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Not a penny. Hard to see what options we have left.”

“I was optimistic they’d do something. We’re talking about Grampian Capital for God’s sake, not some hick bank nobody’s ever heard of.”

“Do you guys know any other senior people over there?”

“I’m sorry, Dan. We’ve exhausted out best contacts.”

“Figured as much.” Schaeffer snapped the phone shut.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside the forty-story Pyramid building, Manhattan’s most expensive apartment block, across the road from the Met on the Upper East Side. Schaeffer climbed out of the car.

“Wait here. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Kirkland returned to Kent’s office with Anton Henning, another partner in the firm. She looked more irritated than she had earlier. Even the normally relaxed Henning looked agitated, slumping his lanky frame onto one of Kent’s sofas.

“We’ve just taken a call from Doug Wright. You’re not going to like it,” said Henning.

“You didn’t mention the German business?” said Kent, leaning over a waste-paper bin under his desk, clipping his fingernails. “Don’t tell me Wright knows about our scheme.”

“What scheme?”

“Forget it. What’s the problem?”

“Wright says the other private equity firm is prepared to do the same deal as us, but with thirty percent for the management team, compared to our twenty.”

“Fucking hell!” said Kent, narrowly avoiding severing the tip of his left index finger. “Wright’s playing with fire. His business runs out of cash in three weeks. How easy does he think it is coming up with a billion pounds in a hurry?”

He shoved his chair back from the desk, walked to the large picture window behind it and stared toward Cambridge. After inspecting his bleeding finger in the light, he placed it in his mouth.

“What do you want to do?” asked Henning, interrupting Kent’s thoughts.

“He’s bluffing. Did you ask him to e-mail us the other firm’s term sheet?”

Henning dropped his shoulders. “No, didn’t think of it.”

Kent turned and smiled at him, as if to say he should have done. “Let’s get him on the phone right now. Tara, can you get hold of Doug Wright and put him through?” he shouted.

“I have Mr. Wright for you,” Tara said through Kent’s open office door a few moments later.

Kent leaned over his desk and hit the speakerphone, but said nothing, leaving an awkward silence. He waited for the pressure to build on Wright.

“John, how are you? We’re in the thick of it over here, as you can imagine,” said Wright after a few long seconds.

“I understand from my team you have a better offer on the table.”

“Yes, it’s all a bit embarrassing. We were just telling the other firm they’d lost the opportunity when they offered to improve their terms. We’re not sure what to do about it.”

“Did you show them our offer letter?”

“No, not at all. I wouldn’t do that. They said they don’t want to lose the deal and offered to sharpen their pencil. Took me by complete surprise.”

“I can imagine. E-mail us their terms so we can take a look at them.” Kent hit the mute button and turned to his colleagues. “That’ll flush him out. Let’s see how he wriggles out of that one.”

There was another uncomfortable pause at the other end of the line. “That wouldn’t be very professional. I’m sure they wouldn’t thank me if I did,” said Wright.

“He’s struggling to figure out what to do. The slimy bastard’s lying to us. He doesn’t have another deal.” Kent turned off the mute button. “Tell you what, Doug. It’s now four o’clock. I’ll give you until ten past to accept our offer. There’s no point leaving our deal on the table any longer when you have an obviously better proposal available.”

“I will not be bullied or rushed into accepting your deal. You’re not the only people interested—”

Kent ended the call. “He’d better sign our offer letter while he still has the chance. It’s a great deal for us. The last thing I want is for that idiot to blow it for everyone.”

“Do you still think he’s bluffing?” asked Kirkland.

“Dead right he is. He’s out for himself. His firm’s at death’s door, and he’s fannying about with our investment terms. I’ve a good mind to jack our equity stake up to eighty-five percent.”

“Can we do that?” asked Henning, his face taking on a glaze of incredulity.

“Sure. We can do anything we want before our offer letter is signed. It’s our money.”

At 4:08 p.m. Tara walked into Kent’s office. “This e-mail has just come in from Mr. Wright,” she said, handing out copies.

“Is it the other firm’s term sheet?” Kirkland said.

“No. It’s a scanned, signed copy of our offer letter. Mr. Wright telephoned me a moment ago very anxious to know that I had it. He seemed most upset.”

“Unbelievable,” said Henning, shaking his head.

Kent smiled at his colleagues.
Another great deal in the bag.

“The River Café,” said Schaeffer, climbing back into the Bentley. He let several calls on his cell phone ring out as he gazed out of the window while the driver followed the East River to the Brooklyn Bridge. When the car pulled into the restaurant car park at the eastern end of the bridge, the driver jumped out and opened the door for his passenger.

“Don’t wait for me. I’ll find my own way back.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s really no trouble.”

“I’m fine.”

“Enjoy your lunch, sir.”

Schaeffer waited until the Bentley disappeared. He walked away from the restaurant and headed along the bridge. The pedestrian walkway sat above the traffic and, when he reached the midpoint of the bridge, he stopped and looked around. The nearest people were about a hundred yards away. He dropped his attaché case on the ground, scrambled over the rusting metal safety fence, and climbed onto the outside girder. He struggled to keep his balance on the narrow beam. When he found his feet, he stared across at the Manhattan skyline and picked out Grampian Capital’s offices, where he’d been sitting an hour or so earlier.