The Dryden Note

by Henry Hollensbe

  “How many of these are there?” McQuade said.

  “Four in the pile I just gave you. Five there,” he said, pointing to the stack already on McQuade’s desk. “A few more being logged in downstairs.”

  McQuade grabbed the FAXes. “I’m upstairs with these,” he said to Helen Benson. McQuade knocked on Mangrum’s door.

  “Come.”

  “Just a moment of your time, Chairman?”

  Mangrum was peering from his window at the scene below. “One moment only. As

  you can see, I am very busy —waiting for the next shoe to fall.” He looked at the papers in McQuade’s hand. “Ah, I see you have the other shoe. How many?”

  “Nine in this group.”

  “There are more coming?”

  “I believe so.”

  “The usual content?”

  McQuade nodded.

  “Take them with you, Secretary.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mangrum turned back to the window. The voice was changed now, soft and nearly pathetic. “The wolves are gathering.”

  Sloan had just prepared a pot of coffee, when Tyler appeared.

  “Good news and bad, Woodruff.”

  “The good, please.”

  “Never mind that,” Sloan said, “the bad news is there is almost nothing to eat in the

  house. The good news is a man such as yourself can doubtless find a store where food is sold.”

  Tyler nodded. “I’ll just test your coffee and be off.” An hour and a half later, Tyler kicked the entrance door. Sloan hurried to open it. Tyler’s arms were overflowing with plastic sacks.

  “Looks like enough for the rest of the summer.”

  “More in the car.”

  An hour later, Celia proposed a walk. “One thing to remember,” Sloan said, “we are, effectively, hiding up here. Let’s stay under cover. If the telephone rings, it can’t be for us—right?”

  Tyler and Celia nodded.

  Mangrum’s door was open when McQuade arrived. “Where are the woman and the professor?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Goddamn it, McQuade!” Mangrum exploded.

  “Why would we want to...?”

  “It’s only sensible to keep them in sight. Find and track. Goddamn it, McQuade, this is serious business and you’re just pussyfooting around!”

  Half an hour later, Evonne brought Mangrum a sheaf of paper. “Communica tions sent these up, sir.” When Mangrum didn’t reach for the papers, she laid them on his desk.

  He hesitated, then began to read. FAX

  Capricorn Metals

  227 Auckland Avenue Wellington NZ

  DATE:

  FROM:

  TO:

  SUBJECT: 9 July 1999

  Dorothy Dalrymple for Donald P. E. Delaney Walter M. Mangrum

  ICP stock shorting

  Mr. Delaney has asked that I query you as to the shorting of your stock that we have seen Wednesday, Thursday, and again this morning. Mr. Delaney wished me to express his continued faith in you, but would like to hear from you soonest concerning your evaluation of the circumstances.

  Finally, Mr. Delaney said me to remind you of the Pondicherry solution. He looks forward to your immediate response.

  /s/ Dorothy Dalrymple

  “Evonne!” Mangrum roared. “Get McQuade in here!” McQuade heard the bellow from the hall outside Mangrum’s secretary’s office. He quivered, then steeled himself and walked into Mangrum’s office.

  “You gutless wonder, McQuade! Afraid to bring me this—this crap yourself?” Mangrum, now breathing hard, stared at the man before him.

  “I was trying to be efficient.”

  “Do you have any idea what the ‘Pondicherry solution’ is?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Just as well. You don’t need that in your dreams.” Mangrum paused, his voice softening. “What do you think is generating all this pressure, Dan? I’ll be damned if I can figure it out. I haven’t been in touch with any of them. Have you?”

  “No. Of course, Howard has been in touch with the three who are directors. They might...”

  “Howard? Howard! What’s he said to them? How did the invitation read? Get that dummy up here!”

  Howard had not yet entered the inner office, when Mangrum began. “What did you say in your invitation for the Director’s meeting?”

  “As Mr. McQuade directed, sir.”

  “The wording, Howard?”

  Howard closed his eyes. “‘It has been brought to Mr. Mangrum’s attention the Company has an outstanding note that requires the distribution of stock. He has agreed in principle to meet the requirements of the subject note and requires Board approval.’”

  “Those were the words you used?”

  “Verbatim, Chairman. Then I noted there was to be a press conference relative to the distribution, but you...”

  “Press conference! Goddamn it, what could the goddamn professor’s goddamn press conference have to do with a Board meeting?”

  “I thought they should know you were on top of things. It seemed to me...”

  “You cannot imagine how little I would like our directors—who will immediately tell their fellow stockholders—to find out what will be said in that press conference.” Mangrum pointed a finger at him and screamed, “You’re fired!”

  Howard slumped. “Fired, sir?”

  “Employment terminated!” Mangrum, his hands doubled into fists, began walking toward Howard. “No one dumb enough to have sent a message like that could possibly be in my employ. Evonne,” Mangrum yelled, “see this dolt is out of the building by close of business today! No one concerned with his termination goes home until he is processed out. Understand?”

  Evonne nodded and disappeared.

  Mangrum sighed and shook his head. “Now there are only about a dozen private detectives in this city trying to learn when and where this press conference is to be held.”

  Celia and Sloan fell far behind Tyler. When she could breathe again, she said, “You’re in pretty good shape for an oldster. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Thirtysix.”

  “I’m...”

  “Twentyeight.”

  “You cheated!”

  “Not at all. You told me you graduated from UGA in 1993, therefore...”

  “Master detective.”

  “And, besides—I wanted to know about you.”

  At 10:30, McQuade placed a new pile of FAXes in the center of the Chairman’s desk. Mangrum read the top sheet.

  Bernard H. Saul & Sons DATE: 9 July 1999

  TO: Walter M. Mangrum

  RE: ICP stock condition

  We can find no information to explain the current attack on your stock. Kindly FAX any information you have as to the perpetrators of the attack and their source of borrowed stock.

  We are most concerned about this situation and remind you we have invested heavily in response to your suggestion. To be blunt, Walter, we will hold you personally responsible for any losses we incur.

  Awaiting your soonest response,

  Bernie

  Mangrum took the next sheet.

  FACSIMILE

  Eastern International Bank & Trust, NA FROM: Theodore H. Daniels, Senior Executive Vice President TO: Daniel R. McQuade DATE: July 9, 1999

  SUBJECT Short attack

  I have not been able to reach Walter. Please ask him to call when he has a moment. Bob is concerned about the shorting pressure. There has been adequate buying to keep the price steady, even move it up a bit, but the whole situation looks a bit odd to us. With the proposed financing from OSR in progress, you don’t need any perturbations, nor do we. As you can imagine, we’d like to see a little oil spread on the waters.

  Thanks,

  Ted “How many in this new stack?”

  “Five.”

  “Any pleasant messages?”

  McQuade shook his head.

  “Well, Dan, I think I’d better talk to the group.” Mangrum took his s
eat, turned the

  wrinkled FAX from Ted Daniels over, and wrote. When he had finished scribbling, he handed the sheet to McQuade. “FAX this to everyone who has sent a questioning FAX to us. Don’t miss anyone!”

  DATE:

  FROM:

  TO:

  SUBJECT:

  CLASSIFICATION: July 9, 1999

  Walter M. Mangrum

  Distribution list

  Your purchases of ICP stock ICP confidential

  Several of you who have recently purchased large blocks of the Company’s stock have been in touch with me regarding the current unwarranted shorting of the Company’s stock, plus purchases of Puts on the CBOE.

  Please be advised of the following:

  The OSR offering of $2B is on track for late November.

  Relative to the balance sheet that will be prepared as a basis for the offering, I am remedying an old problem concerning an unpaid loan dating from the year 1900. I am settling this unpaid debt at the recommendation of our auditors. The remedy will require the issuance of Company treasury stock. I expect the market will recover quickly from this issuance, certainly prior to the November offering.

  the press conference described in the letter to our Directors calling for a meeting: a) is not being held under ICP auspices; and b) relates to the distribution of stock described above only in that the note holder being paid by the distribution of stock has a quixotic wish to announce our agreement to discharge the debt.

  Walter M. Mangrum,

  Chairman and CEO,

  International Construction Products

  Mangrum then called ICP Communications to establish an immediate conference call. Ten minutes later, the supervisor called him to inform him the conference call had been established.

  “Pedro,” Mangrum read from his list.

  “Si.”

  “Kiro.”

  “Hai.”

  “Bullshit, Walter! We just heard your operator tell you everyone you wanted is on. Get on with it.” Donald Delaney had been awakened for the call.

  “Right. OK, you all got the FAX?

  There was a mixed response.

  “Actually, Wally,” Delaney said sarcastically, “I and some others have been sleeping. Something we tend to do this time of night in New Zealand. I don’t receive FAXes while I’m asleep, so suppose you tell us what was in your bloody FAX?”

  Mangrum read the 1:40 FAX. “Does everyone understand?”

  “Yes, Walter, English is still spoken here,” Delaney said.

  Another voice sounded. “Pedro, here, Walter. Tell us, did you have something on your mind when you placed this call?”

  “Something important, gentlemen. I wanted to be certain we are all on the same page.” There was no further comment. “Your FAXes yesterday and this morning seemed, somehow, immediate in their wording.”

  “Marcus here, Walter. By immediate, do you mean threatening? Because that’s what mine was meant to be.”

  “Bittelsmann, Walter. I intended for mine to have a bit of menace in it, as well.”

  “Well, I just wanted you six to have my personal touch. To make certain you didn’t think you were just another name on a FAX distribution list. The stock’s OK, the offering’s OK, and your purchases are going to make it a success and profits for you.”

  “Fine, Walter, I have that much. Now tell me about this press conference?”

  “A mistake to include it in the messages to you who are directors. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Unbelievable horse shit from a man like you, Walter. Don’t make us drag it out of you.”

  “OK. Simple. The note was made a hundred years ago to...”

  “A hundred years ago?”

  “Wait, Donald. Hear the whole story.” Mangrum’s fantasy regarding a small amount of money involved satisfied his listeners’ curiosity.

  An hour later, Mangrum saw the light for his direct line flash. “Mangrum.” “ Walter! I was afraid I was not going to be able to get through to you and here you are, answering your own phone.”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Tandoori. T. V. Tandoori.”

  “Tandoori? Ah, yes. Mr. Tandoori. Of...?”

  “Bosrady, Calcutta.”

  “Yes, Mr. Tandoori. What can I...?”

  “Our firm didn’t rate a place at your conference call an hour ago.”

  “Uh, sorry. I should have included you. I was concentrating on those who were being the most helpful in preparing for our November offering and I didn’t think you were...”

  “Not one of the biggies? That’s right, Walter. Fortunately for me, I think.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Tandoori.”

  “One of my lesser problems, believe me, Walter. But as to this call: I just got off the phone with Mr. Watanabe, who was kind enough to tell me about the call we missed.”

  “Very nice of him, Mr. Tandoori. And so you called to...”

  “While I am not one of your large stock purchasers, I have done what I could. Your deal sounded right and I bought it. Now, you see, I am faced with a problem: a serious drop in your stock price, such as might result from a multi-million share dilution, would require me to meet a margin call. I could not meet a margin call, Mr. Mangrum. And that problem would cause the source of my original investment funds to come to light. That, Mr. Mangrum, I cannot allow to happen.”

  Tandoori waited for Mangrum’s response, but there was none.

  “Do not allow the dilution to occur. If you fail, I believe I will perhaps live just long enough to visit your city and make my problem yours.” Tandoori paused. “If you follow.”

  Mangrum said nothing.

  “Do you follow, Mr. Mangrum?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “I was afraid I had lost you. Can’t have you dying before you stop the dilution.”

  “No.”

  Mangrum could only manage a grunt.

  “And so goodbye and good luck, Walter.”

  Mangrum replaced his handset, then summoned McQuade.

  Chapter 34

  Mangrum motioned for McQuade to be seated. The two men sat in silence for a long moment.

  “I took a call around 3:00, from Calcutta.”

  “Bosrady?”

  Mangrum nodded. “Not Simon. One of his people. Knowledge of the size of the stock distribution is out.” Mangrum hesitated. “I must act.”

  “Act?”

  “Remove the woman, get the letter back. Ask Seamus to join me, then get back to work.”

  Seamus Hanrahan had the features of a Sicilian don, but the coloration of a Dublin bartender. He had maintained most of the posture and musculature the Army had provided, making him an imposing figure.

  “All right, Walter. Tell me why did I just fly forty -five hundred miles?” “I need a letter retrieved and a woman removed.”

  “Kill a woman and retrieve a sheet of paper?”

  Mangrum nodded.

  “Why?”

  “The letter to solve an immediate problem and the woman to keep it from arising

  again.”

  “Walter, getting me involved in something like that is like using a cannon to kill a

  mouse. What’s wrong with Josh’s people?”

  “I need the first team on this one.”

  Mangrum detailed his problem with the Morgan family. “Walter, I don’t believe I’ve heard of such a muddle in recent times. Sounds like vintage McQuade. What’s the value of this transaction?”

  Mangrum hesitated, then said, “Sixty-seven million shares, give or take.”

  Hanrahan raised his eyebrows. “Sixty-seven million? If I kill this lady and get back a missing letter, you save sixtyseven million shares?”

  Mangrum nodded.

  “Maybe two and a half billion dollars?”

  Mangrum nodded.

  “Do I have the job if I want it?”

  Mangrum nodded.

  “Well, then, suppose I let you keep the commission on the South American
wood deal and you pay me for this?”

  Mangrum frowned. “It’s only a day’s work. Maybe two. Fifty thousand?”

  “You are way, way too much, Chairman Mangrum!” Hanrahan laughed. “How would five hundred right now and five hundred when we read about the lady’s funeral strike you?”

  Mangrum nodded.

  “Five hundred transferred right now?” Hanrahan said, pointing to Mangrum’s telephone.

  Mangrum called Beauchamp’s office and ordered the transfer.

  “Is this the same guy my people missed last month?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad that didn’t work out.”

  “Yes.”

  “On the other hand, I wouldn’t have had this million-dollar job now, would I?” Hanrahan said.”

  “No.”

  “OK. Now, before we begin.” Hanrahan extended a finger. “One, are you certain I now know everything? From the beginning of this professor’s interest in the records of old Board meetings to the present minute?”

  Mangrum nodded.

  “And, two, are we not concerned the Atlanta police may like ICP for this death. Que bono?”

  “Who benefits? I prefer investigations by the Atlanta Police Department over disappointing my foreign associates.”

  Hanrahan nodded. “OK, when is this to be accomplished?”

  “As soon as you can. In any case, prior to this press conference.”

  “OK, now the details of this press conference?”

  “McQuade has all of the details.”

  “Ask him to join us.”

  “Give me what you know about the delivery of the letter, the press confere nce, and where the woman is now.”

  “The LOA was delivered late yesterday afternoon to the professor’s attorney.”

  “That’s who?”

  “Grady, Grady, and Doyle. Howard can tell you where the office is.”

  “OK. What about the press conference?”

  “4:00 Monday afternoon at the Ramada Inn in Sandy Springs.”

  “Where can I find the woman?”

  “Josh’s people are looking, but, last I heard, no one knows where they are.”

  “You say ‘them’.”

  “I expect she’s with the professor. And maybe Tyler.”

  “Tyler is?”

  “The professor’s gofer.”

  “What do we know?”

  “They’re not at any of their residences or in the professor’s office.”

  ICP’s Foreign Application Division’s operations room had the appearance of a military command center, with large-screen computer consoles, television sets, and school-size marking boards on stands.