The Protégé (12 page)

“Why did you call them, Allison?”

“I told you,” she said, sniffing again. “I thought it would be fun.” She cased the restaurant, eyes darting from table to table. “How’s that pop-star girlfriend of yours? Still peddling her CDs?”

So that was Allison’s game. She wanted Faith to see pictures of them coming into the Grill arm in arm. Deb was beginning to look awfully smart. “She’s doing fine.”

“Where is she tonight?”

“On the West Coast doing some publicity. She’s back tomorrow.”

“How often do you see her? Is it an every night thing when she’s in town?”

“Are you asking me if it’s serious?”

“I’m just asking,” Allison replied, wiping her nose with her napkin. “I’m not trying to get personal.”

“Well, you are.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “
Puleeease.
Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not asking because I want to move in on her. Gawd, it would be awful to date you. You love your work way too much. A woman would always run second to Everest. Honestly, I just want to make sure it
stays
that way. I want my five billion to be twenty or forty billion in a few years. And for that to happen, your pecker needs to stay right where it is. In your pants.”

She seemed sincere, which was good news. “Everyone will be very relieved.”

“Everyone?”

“A lot of people at Everest think you’re after me, and, well . . .”

“Well
what
?”

“You know.”

Allison ground her teeth together for a few moments. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Okay.”

“What’s going on with that new NFL franchise you won?” she asked.

“Going on?”

“Like I said on the phone last night, I want Everest Eight to make that investment.”

Gillette shook his head. “No, we’ll do it out of Seven. It has to be that way. I’ve got to be fair to my investors. The ones in Seven were in first.”

“So do it fifty-fifty. I want a chunk of that.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I mean it.”

“I heard you.”

Her cell phone rang, and she pulled it from her purse. “What?” she said loudly, putting her purse back on the table and pressing her hand to her ear.
“What?”
But the music was too loud and she still couldn’t hear. She got up and trotted through the restaurant.

Gillette watched her until she’d moved into the restaurant foyer, then his eyes shifted to the purse she’d left on the table.

TOM MCGUIRE
sat in the Explorer, parked on a darkened side street a few blocks from the Grill. Since everything had blown up last fall, he’d taken on a new identity—which wasn’t hard if you knew what you were doing. He had a New Jersey driver’s license, a Social Security card, and a passport—all of which made clear that he was William Cooper. He wore his hair longer now, had grown a goatee, and had put on twenty-five pounds. Even his children hadn’t recognized him at first at the park on Long Island where he’d surprised them last month—the first time he’d seen them and his wife in ten months. The feds had been watching them twenty-four/seven since last November, but he’d found out from friends inside the Bureau that the tail had been called off at the end of August—almost a month ago. The feds were still listening in on calls, but not following the family anymore. It had been wonderful to see the kids.

Nigel Faraday’s double take on Park Avenue the other morning was still bothering him. A stupid mistake, he thought. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near there at that time of day, but he was trying to assess, trying to nail down routines. There was no need to worry, he told himself. The fat Brit probably hadn’t noticed him anyway.

He shut his eyes as he sat in the SUV, clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He and his brother had been so close to hundreds of millions, but Gillette and Stiles had destroyed everything at the last second. Now his brother was dead, and he had the rest of his life to look forward to an assumed existence and sporadic, short visits with his family.

McGuire took a deep breath. He’d been waiting ten months for tonight, and it was all coming together perfectly.

“
YOU READY TO GO?
” Gillette asked, checking his watch. It was nine-thirty, and he wanted to get home so he could go through the Hush-Hush material Wright had given him to prepare for tomorrow morning. “I’ll give you a lift back to the Parker.”

Allison looked at him as if he were crazy. “Are you nuts? We’re going out. We’ll start at the China Club, then figure out our plan from there. I don’t go home at nine-thirty when I’m in New York.”

Gillette checked the front of the restaurant. Through the large windows facing Hudson Street, he thought he could see the paparazzi still waiting, which seemed strange. They’d gotten their pictures, but it looked as though they were still hanging around. He motioned to Stiles.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, noticing his wave.

“Nothing.”

Stiles leaned down when he reached the table. The music was louder than when they had come in. “What is it, Chris?”

“Are the photographers still out front?”

“Yeah.”

“But why? They got their pictures. You think they’re waiting for somebody else?”

“I doubt it. This isn’t a big place with celebrities. Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Doesn’t make any sense.”

Stiles shrugged. “Nothing makes sense with these clowns.”

Gillette thought for a moment. “Find out if there’s a back way out of this place. I don’t want any more pictures,” he said, gesturing subtly at Allison. “You know?”

Stiles nodded, understanding. “There has to be another exit. It’s building code, I think. When I find out, I’ll have the driver bring the limo around. I’ll have him waiting for us so we’ll be able to get right in.”

“What if they follow the guy?”

“I don’t think—”

“Let’s get out there,” Gillette suggested, “then call him.”

“But—”

“Just do it.”

Stiles nodded.

When he was gone, Allison leaned toward Gillette. “What was all that about?”

Gillette eyed her. She was still sniffing, still blaming it on allergies. “Business.”

“Well, I’m your
business
partner, so talk to me.”

“It wasn’t that kind of business,” Gillette answered, watching Stiles as he spoke to the maître d’, who seemed willing to help, judging by the way he was pointing and nodding.

“Maybe not, but it brings up an important point.”

“What’s that?”

“As a managing partner, I need to know everything that’s going on at Everest Capital.”

“Then talk to Debbie. Sounds like you think she’s going to be your best source of information.”

“I’m being serious,
Christian.
”

“So am I.”

“We need to meet every two days,” she demanded, “just the two of us, to go over everything that’s happening. We’ll make those meetings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and we’ll talk one day over the weekend. Of course, if something really important happens, you’ll call me right away.”

The cost of Wallace money was going to be even greater than he’d expected, he thought, rubbing his eyes. “We meet once a week as a group in the main conference room. The meeting usually lasts several hours. Believe me,” he said, emphasizing the words, “after a few weeks, you’ll know more than you want to know about Everest Capital.”

She shook her head. “That’s not good enough. Nowhere near good enough.”

“It’s good enough for everyone else.”

“Everyone else hasn’t invested five billion dollars. I told you, I’m very careful with my family’s money. And my family is watching this thing very closely.”

“Which I understand,” Gillette said calmly. “I hope you can understand that I’m busy. If I had to spend that much time talking to you, I wouldn’t have enough time to run the firm.”

“I want to help, too. The only way I can do that is if I know what’s going on.”

“You know how you could really help?”

“How?”

“Find me a deal. Find a good company for us to buy at a great price.”

Allison finished the last sip of champagne in her glass and reached for the bottle in the ice bucket. But it was empty. “Let’s get another bottle,” she suggested.

“I told you, we’re leaving.”

“If you don’t get another bottle, I won’t tell you about the deal I’ve got working.”

He studied her, trying to determine if there was any truth to what she’d said or if she’d tossed it out there just so he’d get another bottle. He couldn’t tell; her face was impassive. “You play poker?” he asked.

She nodded. “Love to.”

That figured. “Want to play sometime?”

“Absolutely. Are you in on a regular game?”

“I know a few guys who run a game every Monday night. I go once a month or so. It’s a bunch of Wall Streeters. It’s a serious game, so you need to know what you’re doing.”

“I’d love to take some money from the Hermès tie and suspender set. How about next Monday?”

“First, tell me about the deal you’ve got working.” There probably wasn’t anything to this, just smoke. After all, if the deal was so great, she’d do it using the Wallace Family Trust money so she could keep all the upside for herself.

She grinned. “I know what you’re thinking. If the deal’s so awesome, why share it with Everest? Well, I’m your partner, and when I partner with someone, whether it’s business or personal, I commit. So, here it is. The company’s name is Veramax. They’re a—”

“A drug company based outside Chicago,” Gillette interrupted. “Owned by a family named Mitchell.” He’d been following the company for two years. “Very fast growing. They were going public last spring, but the family couldn’t get the valuation they wanted because some of their new products were being held up by the FDA.”

“Held up by a lot of red tape crap,” Allison confirmed. “Some higher-up at the FDA doesn’t like Jack Mitchell, Veramax’s main shareholder. The company did over a billion dollars in revenue last year, but they could be doing three to four billion if they could just get these new products to the market. Some of them are incredible. They’ve got an Alzheimer’s drug that’s supposed to be fantastic.”

“Why the bad blood between the Mitchells and the FDA?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I think you could help.”

“How?” he asked, becoming interested. This was another way you made money in the private equity world—bringing something to the table others couldn’t.

“You and Michael Clark, the senator from California, are friends. You know him pretty well, actually.”

“How do you know that?”

She groaned. “If I have to tell you how I know something every time we talk, we’re never going to get anywhere, Mr. I Don’t Even Have Time to Keep My Five-Billion-Dollar Partner Up to Speed.”

“All right, all right,” he said. “How does knowing Senator Clark help?”

“He’s got pull with the FDA. One of the big guys over there is a golfing buddy of his from California.”

“So, I broker a deal.”

“Yes.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Even if Clark can convince his buddy at the FDA to finish approving Veramax’s products quickly, my understanding is that it’ll still take six to nine months to get everything finished. The company has some big opportunities they need funding for, and the family wants to do some estate planning. They need money for all that, about a half a billion, and they need it
now.
You get to be that investor, then cash out in the IPO, which should be next fall if you can get the FDA in line. You’d probably make five to six times your money in the IPO. Your investors, me included, will like that.”

“I won’t pay a premium, especially if I’m the one who gets the FDA off its ass.”

“I’m with you,” Allison agreed.

“And I want control, I want at least fifty-one percent of the stock.”

“I’ll arrange a meeting with Jack Mitchell. Talk to him about that.”

This actually sounded good, and Gillette was surprised. He hated surprises. “What’s your in? Why will Mitchell listen to you?”

“First, I’m bringing you and your connection to Senator Clark. Second, our families have been friends for years. We’ve vacationed together on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan ever since I was a little girl.”

“When can you arrange a—”

“Chris.”

Gillette looked up at Stiles. “Yes.”

“Got a back door through the kitchen. Let’s go.”

“Okay. Send your guys out to the front, like we’re about to come out.”

“I think we should keep at least two of them with us.”

Gillette shook his head. “We’ll only be out there for a few minutes, we’ll be fine. I don’t want any more pictures.”

“Still, I—”

“No,” Gillette said sharply, standing. “And make your guys think we really are coming out that way. They’ll sell it better.”

Allison grabbed her purse. “Hey.”

“Come on,” he said, holding his arm out for her, “I’m not leaving you.”

“You scared me,” she said, standing up unsteadily and slipping her arm into his. “I thought you’d forgotten those beautiful manners for a second.”

“You sure you want to stick to that allergy story?” he asked as they followed Stiles through the restaurant.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, holding on to his arm tightly as they climbed a few steps to the kitchen level. “It’s the truth.”

“Maybe you’re getting sick.”

“I feel fine.”

“Then maybe it’s something you’re putting up your nose in the bathroom.”

“
What
? Listen, I—”

“Nose drops, I don’t know.”

“Christian, I’m not a—”

“Look,” he cut in, “if you tell me it’s allergies, it’s allergies. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just telling you, no drugs at Everest. No marijuana, no cocaine, no nothing. Got it?”

“Of course. I’ve never done drugs in my life, and I never will. I love to party, but I don’t do that.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“We’re clear.”

“Perfectly clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then get me an appointment with Jack Mitchell.”

“Maybe I will,” she said testily, “and maybe I won’t.”