“Agreed,” I said, clinking my beer mug with Jim’s.
The next afternoon, I dropped Jim off at the Spokane airport and headed back to my office. I called Will and asked him to come over. When he arrived, we called Wally and put him on the speaker-phone.
I briefed them on my meeting with Jim Lee.
“Okay, fellows, here are my thoughts on selling a minority interest in Montana Creek Mining to IUC. First, it further validates our discovery. Having a major company take a position in Montana Creek Mining will increase the appetite of other big companies to participate in future offerings, or sale of the company.”
“Secondly, it will provide us with working capital to advance the project and enhance our share price. And lastly, the shares will be held by a major company rather than by short- term investors and promoters, in Vancouver.”
“If IUC comes back with an offer, as you’ve just outlined, I’m on board,” Wally said.
“Ditto for me,” Will added.
“We’re going to have several additional suitors,” Wally said. “Canadian Uranium Group and the French company, MinUranCo, have both contacted me. You’re going to have a lot of company over the winter.”
“Well, there’s nothing like a little competition to sweeten the pot,” I replied.
“I’ve got some other news as well,” Wally continued. “My contact in the Caymans, Dominic Rinquet, was able to dig up some information on Carib International. You’ll never guess who owns it.”
“Cyrus the Virus?” I replied.
“How did you know?” Wally asked, slightly stunned.
“Just a nagging hunch, I’ve had. It’s all starting to fall into place, fellows. Ike Moffit tries to steal our core. Ike works for Thornton, who’s Cyrus’s right-hand man. Twisp River takes down a big chunk of our private placement, and they’re owned by Carib, and Cyrus owns Carib. It’s classic Cyrus the Virus.”
“Well it could be trouble down the road,” Wally noted.
“What’s on your mind, Wally?” I asked.
“Just this, fellows. Right now our cash position is good. The warrants are getting exercised, giving us another infusion of cash.”
“Seven hundred-fifty thousand,” Will interjected.
“Exactly,” Wally replied. “So in the short term we’re okay. But farther down the road we’re going to have to raise additional capital. Which means additional dilution.”
“Which means the Virus could accumulate even more of our shares,” I added.
“Exactly,” both Wally and Will replied, simultaneously.
“Okay, what are our options?” I asked.
“Even if Cyrus and company could manage to get up to twenty percent control, they would have to get additional votes from other shareholders to cause us much of a problem,” Will replied. “And right now I don’t see that happening. I think we’re okay as long as the ore grades remain positive.”
“Agreed. As long as our drilling keeps churning out good results and we keep adding to our reserves, the share price will stay strong,” I replied. “And we’ll have a bunch of happy shareholders.”
Bill Thornton received an e-mail from Mary Johnson’s home computer. New assays were attached. He called Cyrus on his land line.
“Cyrus, Thorny. Got a sec?”
“Always, Thorny. What’s up?”
“Just got some assays from our friend at the lab.”
“And?”
“Well, they’re damned good. No indication the grades are dropping off.”
“Good and bad, Thorny. Kind of like seeing your mother-in- law drive off a cliff in your new Maserati.”
“Sir?”
Cyrus laughed. “Good news is, as shareholders, we want a damned good mine. Makes our shares worth a lot. Bad news is, it’ll be harder to acquire more shares in any upcoming offerings.”
“Any ideas, sir?”
“What have you been able to find out about the other shell founder, Rosenburg?”
“Word on the street is, he’s in trouble. Turns out Mr. Rosenburg is a big-time Las Vegas gambler. Word is he’s into the Comstock Casino for about a mil.”
“The Comstock, eh? The Pantelli family out of New Orleans are the dough behind the casino. Some very tough fellows. I met one of the brothers, Al Pantelli, in the pen. I’ll give him a call and see what kind of trouble Rosenburg’s in. Might be an opening for us? A way to pick up another half million shares?”
Wally set up field trips for Canadian Uranium Group and MinUranCo, and I did my standard dog and pony show, right down to the Tumbleweed Ale, at the W. Both groups did their best not to drool all over themselves when they looked at the cores.
I told them we were looking for a proposal from a major to acquire around 20 percent of the company. Both said they’d prefer a Joint Venture, but I told them we had no interest in a JV. Each party said they’d review my proposal with their respective boards, and get back to me.
Winter kicked in, and it was tough going at the mine. Costs for drill camp supplies and road clearing were getting pretty high. But we were on the last drill location with just two holes left. I called Red and discussed the situation with him. He said they’d be able to finish in about four or five days.
The share price was holding steady in the two buck range, and we still had a fair amount of cash in the bank. All in all, a hell of a good year, and it was about to get even more interesting.
Chapter 9
I was looking over assay results on a very cold and overcast afternoon when my office phone rang.
“Trace, Cyrus McSweeny.”
“Cyrus, long-time no hear.”
“Yes, it’s been a while. But I’ve been closely following your progress. Well done, lad.”
“Well, we’ve been lucky, Cyrus. We managed to get the drilling done before the heavy snows hit.”
“Winters in the upper Methow can be damned tough.”
“Yes, sir. Hell, it’s pretty damned cold right here in Ellensburg.”
“Well, maybe I can do something about that, Trace.”
“How so?”
“As you know from your inquiries, I own Carib International.”
“My inquiries?”
“Don’t be modest, Trace. Dominic is quite effective. But when someone is checking me out, I usually get wind of it.”
“I see. We’ll it’s nothing personal, Cyrus. Just business.”
Cyrus laughed. “That’s supposed to be my line.”
“You were saying, sir?”
“Ah, yes. I would like to invite you to come down to Grand Cayman for a long weekend as my guest. It would give us a chance to get to know one another, and to discuss your future plans for Montana Creek Mining. As one of your largest independent shareholders, I think it would be time well spent for both of us.”
I looked out my frozen window at the blowing snow. “Can I bring a friend?”
“Of course. What’s his, or her, name?”
“Tina Hart.”
“Excellent. Just call me back on this cell number, and I’ll make all the arrangements.”
Immediately after I hung up with Cyrus, I called Tina. To say she was excited would be the proverbial understatement. We worked out our schedules, and I called Cyrus back. In ten days, we’d be in George Town, Grand Cayman. Guests of Cyrus the Virus.
Later, I called Will and Wally and filled them in. Will wasn’t too keen on the idea. But Wally loved it.
“It’s going to be a two-way pump, Trace,” Wally said, with a laugh. “Just get all the info you can about his plans without giving away too much about ours.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“Also,” Wally continued, “you should meet with Dominic and give her a heads-up about Cyrus. Tell her he knows she’s been looking into Carib International.”
“Will do, Wally.”
“Too bad you’re taking Tina. Dominic is single, uninhibited, and really ugly.”
“What?” I said, laughing.
“Just kiddin
g. She’s a ten and a half.”
“Well, I’ll give her your best.”
Wally laughed. “On your best day, you couldn’t give her my best.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll keep you posted.”
It was snowing hard in Spokane when Cyrus called Al Pantelli’s New Orleans office. Al’s secretary put him through.
“Al, it’s Cyrus McSweeny, up in Spokane.”
“Cyrus, you’re not back in the can, are you?” Al asked, with a rumbling laugh.
“No. I’m clear and clean.”
“Good to hear it, my friend. So what can I do for you?”
“It may be what I can do for you. What do you know about a Canadian promoter named Rosenburg? Word on the street in Vancouver is he’s into the Comstock for some serious dough?”
“You heard right. The little creep plays craps like he’s jerking off. He’s in to us for a mil.”
“Is it getting serious on your end?”
“Cyrus, what’d you think? It’s a million fuckin’ dollars.”
“How much time has he got?”
“Not very goddamned much. You got something in mind?”
“What would you take, cash money, to assign me his gambling debt?”
“This jerk got something you want?”
“Let’s just say he’s screwing up a deal I’m in. I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“Corleone style, eh?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay, we’ll knock it down twenty percent for a fast, all- cash, buy-out. You in or out?”
“I’m in, Al. Draw up an assignment of his debt, and I’ll have my associate, Bill Thornton in New Orleans, in forty-eight hours.”
“With the cash?” Al asked.
“Eight hundred thousand.”
“Always a pleasure, Cyrus. Listen, if it should get to the point where you need some outside help to solve your little problem, well . . . we’re in the problem-solving business.”
Forty-nine hours later, Bill Thornton left Al Pantelli’s office with a document assigning Richard Rosenburg’s gambling debt to Cyrus. He called Cyrus from the New Orleans airport.
“Did everything go okay?” Cyrus asked.
“Yeah, no problems, Cyrus,” Thorny replied. “But Mr. Pantelli is very interested in your interest in Rosenburg.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Cyrus, I’m a little concerned about this deal.”
“How so, Thorny?”
“Well, we’re out eight hundred thousand for a million- dollar note. On the face of it, a damned good deal. But how do we collect the mil from Rosenburg?”
“We get his five hundred thousand shares of Montana Creek Mining in return for the note. The share price is steady at two bucks. So we’ll make our eight hundred K back, plus two hundred thousand-profit.”
“If we sell the shares.”
“Correct. Which we are not going to do, at least not yet.”
“What if Rosenburg won’t assign us his shares?”
“Well, Thorny, you’re going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“How tough do I get?”
“Well, you can’t kill the bastard, but short of that, whatever it takes. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll have the lawyers draw up a stock-power agreement for Rosenburg to sign. He assigns Carib International his shares, and we cancel his debt. Paid in full.”
“I’ll be in your office in the morning.”
“Good. I’m leaving for the Caymans in a couple of days, and I want you to wrap Rosenburg up, while I’m offshore.”
“Understood. I’ll see you in the morning, Cyrus.”
Red and his crew finished plugging the final drill hole for this phase of drilling. I figured we wouldn’t resume drilling until early spring. I finished putting together a summary of the drilling and core results for the Vancouver Stock Exchange. And squared things away so I could leave for the Caymans.
There was a knock on my door, and Tina stepped into my office.
“Trace, I’ve got some bad news. My mom’s in the hospital over in Seattle. She’s had a stroke, a pretty bad one, and I’ve got to go. I won’t be able to make the trip to the Caymans. I am so sorry.”
“Hey, kiddo,” I said, giving her a hug, “there’ll be lots of trips down the road. You just take care of your mother.”
“You sure you’re not mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. Listen, we can go to the Caymans anytime you want. And we won’t have to listen to Cyrus the Virus.”
“The Virus?”
I laughed. “Just a nickname for one of our larger shareholders.”
“Thanks, Trace,” Tina said, wiping her eyes. “I’m driving to Seattle today. So I’ll see you when you get back?”
“You better believe it,” I said, giving her a hug and a kiss.
I e-mailed Cyrus and told him I’d be coming to the Caymans solo. Then I called Wally and Will and put them on the speaker.
“Fellows, I am driving to Spokane tomorrow, spending the night, and then flying out early the next day to Grand Cayman. Tina’s not going with me. Her mom’s had a stroke and is in the hospital over in Seattle.”
“Sorry to hear about her mom, Trace,” Will said.
“Me too, Trace,” Wally added. “Listen, Trace, let me give you Dominic’s contact info.”
Will whistled softly.
“Will, I’m not trying to set him up. Trace needs to meet Dominic and give her a heads-up about Cyrus. Cyrus knows she was snooping around, and it could be dangerous for her. I’d feel awful if something happened to her.”
“It’s a good idea, Wally,” I said. “E-mail me her contact information and copy her so she knows I’ll be contacting her.” I paused a half-beat. “Is she really a ten and a half?”
“I knew it,” Will said, with a laugh.
“Affirmative,” Wally replied, “and more.”
Bill Thornton flew from Spokane to Vancouver with blank stock powers and a share-transfer agreement. He’d set a meeting for 10:00 a.m. at Rosenburg’s home.
Rosenburg’s house was an older Tudor-style home on a quaint tree-lined street in North Vancouver. A vintage-green Jaguar sat in the circular driveway. Thorny walked up and knocked on the ornate wooden door.
The man who answered the door stood about six feet two. Rosenburg looked like what he was, an athlete gone soft. He was at least forty pounds overweight, and too much booze had left a road map of broken capillaries on his face.
“Mr. Rosenburg, I’m Bill Thornton,” Thorny said, stepping into the massive foyer.
“You represent the Comstock?”
“I’m associated with the family that controls the casino.”
“The Pantellis? Are you in the muscle end?”
“No, I’m more of an intermediary.”
“You look like muscle to me.”
“Actually, I look like my father. Can we get past this?”
Rosenburg nodded. “Sure, come in to my study and have a seat. Can I get you a drink? Coffee? My wife’s in Europe, but I can fix you just about anything you may care for.”
“No, nothing. Thank you.”
“I’m at your service, Mr. Thornton.”
“I’ll get right to the point, sir. Your gambling debt to the Comstock is way overdue. My job is to settle this debt.”
“I just need a little more time.”
“You have no more time, sir.”
“Well, I can’t just write you a check for a million fucking dollars.”
“It’s a million fifty thousand,” Thorny replied, thinking he’d make a couple of bucks on the side.
“What?”
“The casino charges interest on overdue balances, just like your credit card.”
“That’s outrageous!”
“No sir, what’s outrageous is owing a million bucks to a family like the Pantellis.”
Rosenburg dropped his shoulders and nodded his head. “Yes, you are quite ri
ght about that. Do you have any suggestions on how we might solve this situation?”
“Do you have any assets you could transfer to cover the debt?”
“The house is in my wife’s name, but I do have some shares in a publicly trading mining company.”
Jackpot, Thorny thought. “What do the shares trade for?”
“Two dollars a share. But if I sell them all at once, to pay you, it’ll drive the share price down. Also, I’d be looking at a hell of a capital gains tax bill. Would you be willing to take the shares in kind?”
“How many shares do you have?”
“Five hundred thousand. The company has a hell of a uranium and gold mine down in Washington State.”
“Really? And could you write me a personal check for the fifty-K of interest?”
“Yes, I could manage that.”
“Let me make a quick call,” Thornton said, getting up from his chair and heading toward the foyer.”
Thorny spent a couple of minutes pretending to call the Pantellis and then walked back into Rosenburg’s study.
“Are the shares here?”
“Yes, in my desk safe.”
“Okay, we’ve got a deal. I think I have a blank stock-power agreement in my briefcase.
Rosenburg looked taken aback. “You brought a stock power with you?”
“Don’t look so shocked, Mr. Rosenburg. This isn’t my first rodeo. I came prepared for any contingency.”
Rosenburg looked up from opening his desk safe. “Really? Did you come prepared for this contingency?”
Rosenburg pulled a snub-nosed .38 from his safe and pointed it at Thorny’s chest.
“This isn’t my first rodeo either, Mr. Thornton.”
“You’ll never get away with this. The Pantelli family will take you off the board along with your entire family.”
“I don’t think so. I can cut the same deal directly with the Pantellis. Probably even get them to discount the debt, and I sure as hell won’t pay any vig.”
Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) Page 7
