Thomas Hoover - The samurai strategy

It made me pensive. More and more lately I'd begun to wonder about the roads not taken, the options that never were. What if all our lives had started out differently? Where would you be? Where would I be-playing lawyer now, or maybe driving a cab? It was the kind of woolgathering that drove Donna Austen insane.

It was on my mind that first afternoon I met her, when she brought her sound guy down to record some "voice-overs" to use with shots of the house. She made the mistake of asking for a little background, so I decided to go way back and give her the big picture. It turned out to be a little kinky for the six- o'clock news.

I suited the tale by telling her about my father, once a rig foreman in the oil patch out around Midland, Texas. I was still a kid when he started tinkering around weekends with drill bits out in his shop, and I was no more than about ten when he came up with a new kind of tip. Turned out it could double the life expectancy of a bit, not to mention the life expectancy of a lot of roughnecks who had to change them every few hours. He patented the thing, and next thing you knew, he was "president" of Permian Basin Petroleum.

"Your father was a successful inventor?" She'd set her Tab down on the living room table and perked up. Here was some "color" for her profile.

"More than that. The man was a believing capitalist." Was she really going to understand the significance of what happened? "You see, since no banker would risk loaning out venture capital back in those days, he had to take PBP public. He needed money so badly he sold off sixty percent of the company."

"Like those entrepreneurs who created home computers in their garage?" She brushed at her carefully groomed auburn hair. Maybe here was her hook, the grabber.

"Close. He took the money, several million, and started production. And guess what? The bit he'd invented was too good. Next thing you know, another outfit that will remain nameless here came along and infringed on the patent, saying 'sue us'-which he began trying to do. But since they were already tooled up to manufacture, they undercut his prices and drove PBP's stock down to zip. Then came the kill. They staged a hostile takeover and-since PBP now owned the patents, not him-axed the lawsuit. Bye, bye, company."

"How does this story relate to what you do today?" She was checking her watch, no longer overly engaged.

"Well, by the time all this happened, I was off studying engineering at the University of Texas. But when I graduated, I decided to do something else. I headed for Yale Law."

"If you can't lick 'em, join 'em? Something like that, Mr. Walton?"

"Not exactly, Ms. Austen. I wanted to find out if the Bible's right: that guys who live by the sword better be ready to die by the sword. After the sheepskin, I shopped around and found the Manhattan law firm that handled the biggest oil-field-service outfit in the country, then applied to that firm's corporate department. A couple of years and a lot of memos later, our oil-field client somehow got the idea they ought to go vertical, acquire their own source of equipment. Next I ran some numbers and showed them how profitable it would be to acquire a certain tool company that now owned the patent on a terrific drill bit. Of course, it would require a hostile buyout, but with a little restructuring they could swing it financially."

"And?"

"I worked nights and weekends for six months and personally devised the takeover. By oddest coincidence, when we were through we decided to strip all that company's overpaid executives of their 'golden parachutes' and dump them on the street. My graduation present to the old man."

She rolled her eyes and waved at her sound man to shut off the mike. "Mr. Walton, I think our viewers would be more interested in personal stories."

What did she want, I wondered. This was the most "personal" story I had.

"What do you mean? What I eat for breakfast?"

"I do personalities." She looked around the living room. "Are you married?"

"I was."

On came the tape. But she didn't get what she wanted. Joanna wouldn't appreciate being critiqued on Channel Eight's evening news. And Amy would have killed me. So I just plunged ahead and finished off the other saga.

"There's a bit more to this intimate bio. Guess I'd seen enough quick money in the oil business that I'd forgotten you were supposed to be impressed by it. Or maybe I'd just never mastered the art of kissing my elders' asses convincingly. You'll find, Ms. Austen, that those are two attitudes whose rewards are largely intangible; Wall Street compatibility definitely not being on the list. After five years the Management Committee offered a partnership, but by then I'd decided to go out and try making it on my own. Be my own man."

She waved the sound man off again. "You mean you quit?"

"Couldn't have said it better. I hung up a shingle… and started playing the other side of the scrimmage line."

"I understand you've been in quite a few takeover fights."

"Let's say I've fought a lot of takeovers, Ms. Austen. There's a subtle but important distinction."

Donna Austen turned out to be more interested in my marital status than in anecdotes about corporate mayhem. Thing was, beneath all that glitz I found her a challenging woman. Amy, on the other hand, despised her. But then she never likes anybody I bring home. The real problem, however, was that I kept thinking more about Joanna than I did about Donna. As witness this evening, when that sadder-but-wiser brunette headed out the door reminded me of her more than a little…

"Hate to see that young specimen depart without a good-faith offer of condolence." Henderson was wistfully eyeing the young blonde. Definitely his type. "Trouble is, I couldn't locate the equipment tonight with a compass and a search warrant." He hoisted his glass, then turned back and reached for another Dunhill. "So tell me what brings you uptown. Never knew you to venture this far into civilization just to stand a drink for your oldest and wisest confidant."

Back to reality. "William H., you will undoubtedly find this difficult to accept, but I just got asked to front some Treasury action for a new client. Selling futures."

"Where do you find your suckers?" He grinned. "That's never been your game."

"Hey, at least I know the rules. Corporations have been known to hedge their debt offerings, my friend. But what I've done up to now's been strictly bush league compared to this."

"So what's the play?"

"A foreign outfit that wants low profile. And P.S., they're talking substantial numbers."

"What do you mean, 'substantial'?" Suddenly Henderson's input file was on red alert.

"Probably wouldn't impress a high roller like you, Bill." I paused. "Half a trillion dollars."

"Jeezus." He went pale. "Who's putting up the earnest money for this shot? Let interest rates head the wrong way, you couldn't cover the margin calls on a position that size with the GNP of South America."

"What if it happened to be some of our friends from across the Pacific? An outfit that calls itself Nippon, Inc." I looked at him. "Ever hear of it?"

"Nope." He just stood there, examining his drink as though it suddenly had acquired an enormous insect. "But you've got a surefire knack for really messin' up an evening."

"I guess this is what's meant when people talk about the big time."

"Christ Almighty. Tell you one thing, that's a hell of a number to put on the table. I'd sure like to see those boys' hand."

"Maybe somebody's paying to see ours." I finished off my drink and signaled for another. The more I thought about Matsuo Noda, the more I realized I needed it. "You know, this half scares the crap out of me."

"Matt, old buddy, do yourself a favor. Stand clear. Just back away." He was getting more sober by the second. "You'd be lifting up some kind of big rock when you don't know what's under it. I never do that. Ironclad rule. Same as I always cut losses at ten percent and never let a long position ride over a weekend. And I'll tell you something else. Nobody lays down a bet like that unless he knows the casino's fixed." He paused. "I wonder if maybe we oughtn't to give Jack a call?"