The Paper Factory (Michael Berg Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter 3

  “
What d’you think, Michael?”

 
“Michael. Michael!”

  The impatience in the other man’s voice broke through. He turned to face his CFO.
  “Miles away. What do I think of what?”

 
“I’m concerned. We’re paying too much up-front,” John Burnham said.

 
Michael should have been concentrating on the discussion between Aaron and John. He knew it. But flashbacks from the previous evening churned constantly through his mind. Too fresh. He looked down at his watch, glanced out of the window. Hazy grey tower blocks pierced the skyline ahead of them. The four-hour drive to Katowice from Warsaw would soon be at an end.

  Michael didn’t want to get into a heated discussion with Burnham right now and so headed him off.
  “Listen, you’re a great CFO which is why you’re paid to question these things. But let’s leave it to the negotiation. We’re here now.”

  The six, glass-encrusted buildings of the innovation park protruded above the trees ahead of them. He’d seen photographs, but not the real thing. They pulled into the complex, incomplete efforts at landscaping pointed to its recent construction.

  CEE Outsourcing, neon blue against yellow, was brightly splashed across the top of the entrance of the first building. Garish, but it got the message across loud and clear.

  Lawrence Sharp stood beaming, arms folded, legs splayed, outside the entrance accompanied by another man. Reece Bryant, Sharp’s CFO. Sharp, smartly dressed, no tie. Bryant was fully kitted out.

  “Great to have you here Michael. Good drive down?” said Sharp.

  “Fine thanks, Lawrence. Let’s get going.”

  With the exception of the top floor, which housed the executive team, high-end furniture to match, each of the other floors was close to identical. Rows of desks, manned by mostly young service executives, headsets glued to their heads. Michael grew bored. He employed people like Burnham to take care of the details. The tour was an exercise in uniformity. Predictable.

  Until they stepped onto the third floor. Michael faced outwards across the room. He glanced for a moment at a woman. Returned to her. Her eyes had locked onto his. Their gaze held. A long time to hold the gaze of a stranger. She had dark wavy hair that fell beneath her shoulders, subtly pronounced cheekbones, pale complexion, upright posture.

  She studied him. Not with admiration. Not with desire, curiosity or envy. The emotion that he felt radiating from the attractive, dark-haired woman with the pale complexion was, inexplicably, pity.

  She pulled her eyes from his. Who was she? Did he know her? He turned around and made an effort to listen to Sharp’s sales pitch. It took all of his will not to glance over his shoulder to try and catch the intriguing eyes once more.

                               ---

 
Only Berg faced into the room. The other suits, gathered in a circle, turned in towards Rivello. She couldn’t help it. Against all her instincts she was unable to take her eyes from his. His upright bearing and the forward thrust of his chin. An assumption that all that lay before him was or could be his. The same determined, all consuming passion in his eyes. A younger version of her father. Standing there before her.

  His eyes swept around and locked onto hers. She couldn’t look away. Wasn’t able to distance herself from a man whose fate she was uniquely able to prevent, but equally could do nothing about. His smile vanished. Curiosity turned to concern. She broke eye contact. Berg turned to rejoin the group.

  The men drifted towards the elevator. The doors slid shut. She hit save on the file she’d left for him on her desktop and hurried from her workstation.

Chapter 4

  “Listen, Lawrence, I’m not going to move on this. I’m taking a big enough risk as it is by giving you twenty percent up front. Keep pushing for it and I’m out of here.” 

  Ten hours had taken its toll.

  Michael and Lawrence Sharp were placed opposite each other, on either side of the five meter long, polished oak table in the ornate boardroom of the Bristol.

  Michael stared into the other man’s steel grey eyes. Sharp’s will had been blunted. The man’s desire to close the sale and move on with his life was strong. Stronger than his desire to milk the deal for a few more euros and risk losing precious time with his family. Inevitable if he pushed things too far and Michael walked away.

  “Okay. Agreed. But I don’t want to screw around anymore. Let’s just get the contract finalized and signed off.” Sharp’s delivery was dead pan, patience having deserted him many hours before.

  They were twenty minutes from signing. The lawyers had disappeared an hour before to print the final contract of sale, all in all one hundred thirty pages of closely typed legalese.

  The lawyers filed back into the room.

  “I just hope you guys don’t try and whittle down the second tranche.”

  “If our preliminary analysis is indicative of the way you’ve been running this business, you won’t have anything to worry about. Besides, I don’t believe that screwing people makes for good business. What goes around comes around.”

  “Hold that thought,” said Sharp, looking down at the screen on his mobile phone, “you’ll need to excuse me while I take this call in private.”

  “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” Michael raised the palms of his hands to emphasize the point. Michael browsed through the final changes that had been agreed upon. Most of that time trying to force photographic images of his wife and Julian Albright from his mind.

  The door opened. Sharp emerged and, one hand holding the phone to his ear, motioned silently for Bryant to join him outside. Ten minutes later Sharp reappeared, Bryant following close behind, and sat down heavily opposite Michael. Sharp propped his chin on his hands before he raised his head to speak.

  “Bad news. For you. Looks like someone else has made me a better offer. The deal as of this moment is off the table.”

  “You’re bullshitting me.” Michael raised his voice, “Been there before, Lawrence, you’re just trying to up the ante. It won’t work.”

  “Listen, Michael. I’ve given the details of the offer to Rees. He’ll brief you. I’m leaving. Flight to Frankfurt at seven. We’re pretty far down the line but it’ll take some time to finalize. You have until my flight leaves to match their offer. No call, the deal’s off. Permanently.” Sharp’s face gave nothing away as he stood, grey eyes holding Michael’s, abruptly turned and strode from the room.

Chapter 5

  Jay Rivello stepped through the Bristol’s entrance into the chilled autumnal air. He strolled across Krakowskie Boulevard and into the old town. It was late. The cafés that surrounded the square were emptying, some already closed. It would come within the hour. The call. Berg probably had the sense to walk away. That wouldn’t save him though. Rivello had done his homework. One of Berg’s investors needed this deal. Needed it badly.

  Berg was right. The counter offer didn’t exist. However, as smart as the man undoubtedly was, he would never have guessed the full implications of what was soon to happen. Michael Berg would soon discover how sharp Lawrence was. Rivello smiled at the irony of the pseudonym that he’d chosen for himself.

He felt no guilt over what he was about to do to Berg, or his precious company. Or his life. Business was a game. A game to be won at any cost. To the winner went the spoils. Money. Money bought power, and power was everything to Rivello. Power over the lives of others, power to influence, to manipulate, to build up and to tear down. The quest for power, a desire for challenge and the scent of the kill were what drove him onwards. Also, he admitted to himself, sometimes the need for revenge.

  Rivello placed his phone on the table.

Chapter 6

  The door swung closed behind Lawrence Sharp. Michael shifted his gaze, glaring at Rees Bryant.

  “This other offer that’s supposed to exist. What is it?”

Bryant appeared not to be rattled.

  “Same deal but with a forty percent deposit. That’s eighty million up front.”

  “I can calculate forty percent of two hundred forty million euros, Rees. But you and your boss are dreaming if you think I’m going to hand over eighty-four million euros without going through full due diligence.”

  Michael turned to the window, for the first time noticing that it had turned dark outside. His wrist swiveled as he glanced at his watch. It was close to eleven.

  “It’s time that you and your colleagues left. We need to do some thinking. If I decide to make a counter proposition you may tell Lawrence that I’ll call him in the next hour. If not, you can assume that BOS has no interest in further discussion. Good night.” 

  Michael’s attempt at regaining some control over the situation did not fool anyone and he knew it.

  “John …?” he said leaning forwards toward his CFO. 

  “I don’t like the guy, I don’t like his modus operandi and I think he’s bluffing. There will be other opportunities. If you blow Sharp away, I think he’ll come crawling back within twenty-four hours to try and reignite the deal. Then you can squeeze him even more for screwing us around.” Burnham sat back and relaxed, having made his point.

  Michael was comfortable with making quick decisions under pressure. He paced the room while he reduced the complexities of the deal to its basic components. The ones that really mattered. When it came down to it, there were only two.

  If BOS did not grow quickly, they would be crushed by larger players. Equally, to put more than eighty million euros down before fully checking out the company was potentially suicidal.

  He came to a halt on the opposite side of the table from Aaron and John, made a half turn, pressed both hands face down on the table, looked directly into their eyes.

  “I’ve made my decision. Let’s kill the deal. I’ll tell our friend Lawrence that our bid stands as it is. If the other buyer pulls out we can step back in. Whoever the other buyer is must be either desperate, stupid or probably both. But I need to clear it with Alan first.” The latter he said as he slid his phone from the table. He dialed the UK number.

  “Alan, we’ve hit a problem with the CEE Outsourcing deal.” Michael explained the situation. He was surprised by the response.

 
“Do this deal at all costs. There’s a lot riding on it.”

 
“Eighty-four is madness. If anything goes wrong and we’re not able to secure the additional financing required from investors, the cash hole will bring BOS to its knees.”

 
“Look, Michael, I appreciate your opinion, I really do. I value it greatly. There are always risks. But if we don’t scale up and do this deal, we’ll get squeezed out of the market.”

 
“Listen to me, I won’t …”

  Alan cut him short. “InnoVest is the majority owner of the company. You need to get this deal done. If not, I’ll have you removed as CEO. As far as I’m concerned, the conversation is over. Give my regards to Lawrence when you see him.” The line went dead.

  Michael slammed his hand hard on the table and slumped into the chair. The two other men had picked up on what had happened. “There’s nothing I can do. If I refuse to increase the offer, they’ll remove me and do the deal themselves. I don’t have a choice.”

  Burnham’s jaw tightened, in anger and exasperation. “Idiots, can’t they see they’re putting the whole business in jeopardy?”

  Michael straightened himself in the chair, left hand massaging tired eyes. “InnoVest are raising a new fund. A big one. Over a billion euros. To do it they need a good story from one of their existing investments. We’re the story. The only one. Their other investments are washed up.”

  Aaron interrupted. “Why take the risk? Won’t they make a fortune when they sell BOS?”

  “Yes, and no,” Michael said. “The money InnoVest make when they exit BOS will go back to the fund’s investors. The partners won’t see a penny because the rest of the portfolio’s way under water. As soon as the ink’s dry on the new fund, Alan and the other InnoVest partners will rake in twenty-five million a year in management fees. Without the new fund, InnoVest are finished. As I said, we’re the story. The deal dies and they’re finished.”

  The three men sat in silence for a moment. None looked directly at the other. Each knew there was nowhere else to turn.

Michael dialed Sharp’s number.

---

  The double doors to the boardroom opened from the inside and the two negotiating teams trooped out at twelve noon after a further three hours of drafting, redrafting and finalizing the contract. Michael had a cramp in his right hand after initialing each one of six copies of the one-hundred-forty-page contract and an additional hundred pages of appendices.

  The lawyers looked relieved and were already thinking of where their next billable hours were going to come from.

  “Michael, a pleasure to do business with you,” said Sharp, offering his hand.

  “I’m sure it has been, Lawrence,” said Michael, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his tone. “John and Aaron need to fly back to London. They’ll be back in three days. I want to drive down to Katowice tomorrow afternoon after I’ve taken care of some business here in Warsaw.”

  “Of course, Michael. Rees and I are leaving for Katowice shortly. You will have our undivided attention whenever you need us.”

 
“Until then,” said Michael, as the elevator doors slid smoothly shut on the man Michael knew as Lawrence Sharp.