Стюарт Вудс - Class Act

Jack Coulter was wakened by the sound of the house phone in their apartment at the Breakers. Hillary answered. “Yes?” she said. “Yes?” she went on. “Yes!” she cried. “Please hold.” She put her hand over the phone. “Jack, they’ve come up to a billion three for our share.”

Jack’s eyes opened. “Yes,” he said.

“We’ll take it,” she said. “When do we close? All right.” She hung up. “The buyer is in a hurry. We close in a week.”

“If I’d know he was in a hurry I’d have asked for more,” Jack said.

“You’re so smart!”

“I don’t know anything I didn’t learn up the river,” Jack said. “In the joint, negotiating is a daily practice. You get good at it.”

“Maybe I should have gone to Sing Sing, instead of Bryn Mawr,” she said, laughing.

“I like you the way Bryn Mawr made you,” Jack replied, sitting up. “Can we have some celebratory eggs?”

“What are we going to do with it, Jack?”

“With what?”

“All that money.”

“You have a brokerage account; put it in there.”

“I’m not crazy about those people. I’d like somebody a little more...”

“Aggressive? I’ll think of something. Give me a little time.”

Stone was having his mid-morning coffee when Joan buzzed him. “Jack Coulter on one for you.”

Stone stabbed the button. “Morning, Jack, are you all right?”

“Me? Of course. Oh, you mean Mickey O’Brien.”

“Yes. He’s not a threat at the moment. He’s come into some money, and he’s too busy spending it to think about you.”

“Coming into some money is why I’m calling.”

“Did you hit big with your bookie?”

“No, I took my money back from those people.”

Stone’s jaw dropped. “They let you cash out? I would never have believed it. Those guys never let go of money. How’d you manage it?”

“I asked them nicely.”

Stone burst out laughing. “What does that mean?”

“It means I threatened them if I didn’t have the money back the next day. In prison, I learned to keep my promises, so they believed me. The reason I called was to ask your advice about investing a windfall.”

“Are we talking about your million from the bookie?”

“No, it’s a bit more than that. Hillary is selling the family business, and after a little negotiation, we settled for a billion three.”

“For the whole company? That sounds low.”

“No, her sisters are involved, too. That’s just her share, after taxes.”

Stone was flabbergasted. “Forgive me, Jack, but I don’t often hear that kind of number bandied about, especially after taxes.”

“Me, either. Now, Hillary and I don’t think her broker has been doing a terrific job for her, and I was wondering if you have a recommendation. We’d like someone fairly aggressive.”

“Well, yes, I know somebody.” Stone told him about Triangle Investments, his company with Mike Freeman and Charley Fox. “Charley is an ex — Goldman Sachs guy, whose specialty is mergers and acquisitions. He keeps an eye out for growth companies. We try to get in early. That’s where my money is. Are you in town?”

“No, but we’ll be back in tomorrow. Can we have lunch with you and your colleague, the day after?”

“Certainly.”

“We’re closing in about a week, so we’ll want to move fast, so as not to lose income.”

“I’ll tell Charley that,” Stone said.

“Okay. I’ll see you, say, the day after tomorrow?”

“The Grill at what used to be the Four Seasons, at twelve-thirty.”

“See you there. I’ll introduce you to my new nose.” Jack hung up.

Stone made a conference call to Charley Fox and Mike Freeman.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Stone said. “Are you both in New York?”

“I am,” Charley said.

“I’m in the Gulfstream,” Mike replied, “over the Atlantic, on the way home.”

“Are you both free for lunch the day after tomorrow, at the Grill?”

They both responded in the affirmative.

“I want you to meet some interesting clients of mine, who would like to invest some money with us.”

“I don’t know, Stone,” Charley said. “It’s time-consuming, dealing with more people than just the three of us.”

“How much does he want to invest?” Mike asked.

“One billion, three hundred million dollars.”

“Ignore Charley, Stone. We’ll both see you at lunch.”

Mickey O’Brien called a company he used to work for, driving limos part-time, back when he was a patrolman. They had a division called Chauffeurs Unlimited, who furnished drivers for your own car. He arranged to meet one at his house, then got into the rear seat of his new Mercedes. “Ralph Lauren, Madison and Seventy-Second,” he said to the driver

“Yes, sir, Mr. O’Brien.”

In due course they pulled up to the old Rhinelander Mansion, which now housed the home store of Mr. Lauren. Mickey went upstairs to men’s suits and picked out a half dozen and a tuxedo. He had always been a perfect size 40 regular, so only the trouser lengths had to be fixed. He picked out another half dozen tweed jackets and a blue blazer, as many odd trousers, then he went downstairs to look at shoes while they did the trouser cuffs. He picked out a half dozen pairs of shoes, two of them very expensive alligator, then he bought some socks and sweaters.

When everything was ready he directed them to be put into the trunk of the Mercedes, then headed down to East Fifty-Seventh Street to Turnbull & Asser, where he ordered two dozen shirts to be made, plus a selection of neckties and some ready-made things, since the custom shirts took a couple of months.

Back in the car, he made a reservation for two at Daniel, then headed downtown and called Marge, who was working on his new house. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Are you at the house?”

“I am, and working like a beaver.”

“I’ve got a trunkful of clothes I’d like to drop off. Can you put them in my closet for me?”

“Dressing room,” she said. “You don’t have a closet, you have a dressing room. I guess you missed that on the tour.”

“All the better.”

“I don’t want you in the house yet, though.”

“I’ll send the driver up with the things, then I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Where will you be?”

“Here. I brought a change of clothes to save time, and I’ll use your shower.”

“Do I have towels, yet?”

“You do. You have just about everything. I’m just arranging with a couple of guys to move things.”

“Okay, see you at seven-thirty.”

“Where are we dining?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever you say.

He was driven downtown. Then, while the driver carried everything into the house, he sat in the front seat and played with the electronics, setting up his satellite radio and selecting stations.

Stone, Charley Fox, and Mike Freeman rose to greet Jack and Hillary Coulter. Stone was struck by the difference in Jack’s face. His nose was just as long, but narrower, lending refinement to his face. His previous schnoz had suffered from his prison experience. There was still a little redness, but not enough to matter. His graying hair had grown and was handsomely barbered. Stone introduced everybody, and they all sat down and chatted while they looked at menus and ordered.

“Is the figure you mentioned to Stone still correct?” Charley asked, to get the ball rolling.

“Yes,” Jack replied.

“I suggest you put three hundred into a money market fund, then we invest the remainder.”

“All right,” Jack said, and Hillary nodded.

“With the rest I want to put you into one startup and another outfit that will go public this year, then we’ll start hunting for new buys. We’ll do so in such a way that we’ll be investing alongside you. I wouldn’t put you into anything we didn’t think enough of to invest in it ourselves.”