“Seven billion in annual revenue,” I rattle off. “Distressed entry. We get it around six, break it at eight, two billion on the spread. We take twenty percent carry on the upside.” And my share of that would be a cool thirty million. “Fourth-generation family business with extreme family cohesion but liquidity tension. The cousins want cash; the chairman wants legacy. Do we know where their money’s coming from?”
“Not yet—”
“Find out. As a parallel task, get some rating agencies engaged and find some defensible governance concerns to feed them. A negative outlook could force recapitalization talks within months.”
Rita makes a note. “This won’t be a quick project.”
“Of course not.” I think of the conversation I had with the new shadow-board associate DeLuca hadintroduced me to yesterday. Vincent Barone is part of Armitage and Calder, and he might be able to apply some regulatory tightening or litigation friction. For a two-billion-dollar payout, it was worth sharing some of the gains. “I have a few ideas that might accelerate it.”
I stand up, walking around the desk to the door.
Rita’s gaze follows me, brow furrowed. “Where are you going?”
“To the gym.”
“Thegym?” She checks her watch, even though she knows exactly what time it is. “It’s the middle of the afternoon!”
“Yes?”
“That’s not like you.”
“A run will help me think.”
“Uh… right.”
The company gym is well-furnished, and I use it so often I keep a change of clothes in the lockers. At this time of day it’s quiet, and that’s what I need. I set the treadmill to an incline on a medium speed, and lose myself in the rhythm. My mind isn’t on Greenstone—for the first time, I don’t really care. It’s still early days on that, and it will resolve itself in due course. No, my focus is on my absentee fiancée.
Vicky is the perfect trophy wife. Intelligent enough to hold her own. Driven, too, and I was only too happy to encourage her stepping out alone, leaving her underpaid corporate position. I just hadn’t expected her to leave me three months later.
But then, she can’t have been planning that either.Not when it’s my seed money propping her up. And I know she still loves me. She’s not capable of loving any other way except wholly, body and soul.
How has this happened? Was it all on a whim? A petty tantrum because I missed her birthday? If so, she’ll probably come crawling back before the date of DeLuca’s social event. Maybe there’s no need to worry.
But it’s been two days. No, three. That’s already far too long. Maybe there’s every reason to worry.
I hit the stop button on the treadmill, wrap a towel around my shoulders, and retrieve my phone from the nearby shelf. Dial Rita’s number.
“Yes, Alex?”
“I need you to go through my credit card statements for November. There should be a resort and spa on there.”
“Whenever did you go to a resort?”
“Not me. Vicky. Get the bill from them, and get me the names of who else went.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Rita. I’ll be up in half an hour.” I kill the call and head for the showers.
If she won’t come to me, I’ll find her.
Carol Jenkins is the most likely target. She works at Dalton Reed Consulting, where Vicky was before she went out on her own, and it’s here in New York.
I put my finger on her name. “Get an address for her.”
“Yes, sir.” Rita only calls me ‘sir’ when I use a certain tone and she feels a need to be diplomatic. So the next question isn’t a surprise. “May I ask why we’re investigating a… nobody?”
“I just want her address. Nothing else.” Yet.
