“You will never embarrass anyone.” He took her hand in his.
She glanced away. “You’ve really put yourself out for me, Mace. Most of all, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“Hey, I just told you. You will never embarrass anyone.”
Rachel gazed up at him. He was so sure of himself. She searched his eyes for several seconds, wondering if all this support might have another agenda, hoping it did. She moved slightly closer. Perhaps she should push the moment to find out what was there, to see if there was anything romantic.
She could be the one, Mace thought. Sometimes he had these convictions early on in a project, or a deal, or a relationship. He knew that this relationship could be very right. He didn’t have to go through a long, drawn-out process to make certain. And Mace sensed that the feelings were mutual.
He glanced into her eyes quickly and then away. It was wrong. He had to bury those feelings. She should not be distracted now. She was so close to having all the hard work he knew she had put in over the last several years pay off. So close to making it out of a place she was not particularly proud of. Just as he had made it out when he had been accepted to the University of Iowa. Out of the orphanage, a place he was not proud of.
She would have to redouble her efforts if Walker Pryce actually did make an offer and she accepted it. Her time wouldn’t be her own again for several years. She would have a multitude of bosses, all wanting her time, all confident that their task was the most important one. Partners, managing directors, vice-presidents, and senior associates at Walker Pryce would be at her desk constantly, pestering her twenty hours a day to finish projects. The pressure to produce and perform would be intense. But the potential payoff was huge. The last thing she would need at that point would be Mace, distracting her from that possible payoff.
But it wasn’t so easy to disregard his feelings. He glanced into her eyes one more time and then against his will began to lean forward toward her lips.
Rachel felt her heart begin to beat strongly as she became aware that he was going to kiss her. Her legs went weak, and she squeezed his hands tightly. As his lips neared hers, she closed her eyes. It was going to be wonderful.
But his lips did not touch hers. Instead at the last moment he kissed her gently on her cheek and withdrew. Her eyes fluttered open as she realized what had happened. She stared at his face, trying not to give away the deep disappointment coursing through her body.
Mace took a deep breath. “We’d better get going. I’ve got that early meeting and then the flight to New Orleans. And I’m sure you’ve got work to do too.”
Rachel nodded slowly. She did have an immense amount of work, including case preparation and a complete review of the Columbia Business School stock portfolio. But she wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on anything now. That was for certain.
13
Everyone who is anyone and works in the New York financial world lives in Connecticut or Westchester County and commutes to and from the city daily on the trains of Metro-North. These trains all converge at Grand Central Station, in the heart of midtown Manhattan. So the Grand Hyatt, above the station, is the perfect meeting place. Everyone who is anyone has breakfast there at least once a month.
Every morning Hyatt management accommodates the power brokers with a beautiful setting in which to move and shake. The bountiful buffet is decorated with huge bouquets of gorgeous flowers and an ice sculpture of a particularly well-known Manhattan building. The forks, knives, and spoons are sterling silver, the tablecloths linen, and the waiters white-gloved. And a small bowl of Special K, barely enough to fill a few tablespoons, costs eight dollars.
From his seat in the dining room Mace identified the chief executive officers of three Fortune 500 companies, listening to what looked like their personal bankers as they stuffed their faces with eggs benedict or eggs with bacon or sausage, all of which was being paid for by their corporate shareholders. Corporate executives made almost as much from their fringe benefits as they did in salary, bonus, and stock options.
“Your banker friend is late.” Leeny’s smooth voice reached Mace’s ears.
“He’ll be here.” Mace checked his watch: seven-ten. “Bankers are usually late. It makes them feel more important.” He put a hand to his mouth to hide a slight yawn.
“Sorry I’m not more exciting company,” she said lightly.
“Leeny, I’m sorry. I don’t know why, but I didn’t sleep very well last night.” Mace knew exactly why he hadn’t slept well last night. The cause had been Rachel Sommers. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
“Well, I hope you aren’t really tired because it’s going to be a long day,” Leeny said.
“I know. What time is our flight to New Orleans anyway?”
“Nine o’clock out of La Guardia.” Leeny sipped on a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
Mace checked his watch again. “We need to leave here by eight o’clock at the latest.”
“And who exactly are we meeting in New Orleans? Don’t tell me.” Leeny pulled a date book from a pocket of her leather briefcase, leaning against a leg of the table. She leafed through the book until she had reached today’s page. “Oh, yes. Bobby Maxwell. Tell me about him while we have some time.”
Mace smiled. “Bobby Maxwell, one of the most colorful real estate men you’ll ever meet, or ever want to meet, for that matter.” Mace glanced at Leeny. “He’s loud, obnoxious, and considers himself quite a lady’s man. He’ll be all over you. I guarantee it.”
“You will protect me, do you understand?” Leeny’s voice rose unsteadily. “Remember, I’m from Georgia. I know about those so-called southern gentlemen,” she said sarcastically.
Mace raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s right, you do.”
Leeny finished her orange juice. “What is so special about Mr. Maxwell? Why are we going to see him?”
“Oh, he owns a small piece of Manhattan real estate called the Trump Tower. And eleven other commercial buildings on prime Manhattan sites.”
“What?” Leeny leaned over the table toward Mace. “I thought Donald Trump still owned the Trump Tower.”
“No. Maxwell paid three hundred million dollars for the building last year, when the Donald needed money to build that new casino out in Las Vegas. Of course part of the agreement when Maxwell bought the building was that its name remain the Trump Tower. So everyone thinks Donald still owns it. Despite what people may say about him, Trump’s a pretty good deal maker. But Maxwell didn’t care about the name thing. People on the jet set circuit know he owns it. That’s all he cares about. What the jet-setters don’t know is that Bobby put up only about three percent of the money for the purchase. The rest came from several large insurance companies in the form of high-coupon bonds. Lewis Webster wants me to target prominent properties on shaky financial ground. This one fits the bill pretty well. Maxwell won’t want to talk about the Trump Tower today. He’s still in love with the fact that he owns it, so that one’s off the list. But he’s got some other Manhattan commercial properties that are on prominent spots and aren’t doing so well. He’ll be only too glad to talk about them. He won’t like our prices, but he’ll talk. And if Webster is right about a correction in Manhattan real estate prices, Maxwell will be on the phone to us in a New York minute about the Trump Tower and all his other properties as well. That three percent equity cushion of his will evaporate very quickly in a panicked market.”
“I take it you know so much about Bobby Maxwell’s Trump Tower deal because you put it together for him.”
“Well now, little lady, you catch on pretty doggone fast.” Mace did his best Georgia drawl.
“Yes, I do.” Leeny paused as she reviewed the date book. “Tell me one other thing, Mr. McLain.”
Mace had been watching one of the CEOs at a table near them, but the use of his last name caught his attention,
and he turned to Leeny. “What’s that?”
“My date book says we take a ten o’clock flight back from New Orleans tonight. Why so late?”
“Our meeting with Maxwell isn’t until three in the afternoon. We’ll be lucky if we’re done with him by six. The ten o’clock flight was the next one out.”
“If our meeting isn’t until three, why are we leaving so early?” Leeny asked.
“The next departure after the nine o’clock flight for New Orleans doesn’t leave until one this afternoon. That would be too late to make it to his office by three.”
“If we take a ten o’clock flight home, we won’t be landing at La Guardia until about two in the morning New York time.”
“So?” Mace glanced back at the CEO.
“So why don’t we stay in New Orleans this evening as opposed to killing ourselves to get back? We’ll eat Cajun food after the meeting, then catch some music at this little out-of-the-way jazz club I know about down there. We’ll do breakfast at Brennan’s in the morning and catch a nice civilized flight out of New Orleans around eleven. We’ll even be back in New York tomorrow afternoon in time to get some work done. How about it? It will give us a chance to get to know each other a little better.” Leeny winked at him.
Mace laughed. Funny, it had never even occurred to him to stay overnight. Get in, get out. As fast as possible. He was conditioned to think that way. Get one deal done and get on to the next one as quickly as possible. That had been his mind-set since graduating from Columbia. Sitting in a jazz club, you might miss a transaction and therefore miss a big fee. He smiled at her. Of course you might have some fun sitting in a jazz club too. That was something he hadn’t had much of lately. He allowed his eyes to roam for a few moments. She seemed particularly beautiful this morning in her silk blouse and ankle-length black skirt. “Well, I—”
“Mace! God, sorry I’m late.” John Schuler waved at Mace and Leeny as he moved slowly through the crowded dining room. Schuler was on the short side, balding, and suffering from a growing middle-age girth so common among men of his years, that restricted his movements as he tried to make his way through the cramped room, tightly packed with tables and chairs.
Mace and Leeny stood as he reached the table.
“Hello, John.” Mace shook Schuler’s hand, then gestured toward Leeny. “John, this is Kathleen Hunt. She is a newly hired managing director at Walker Pryce.” Mace forced himself to specify Leeny’s title. It was protocol at Walker Pryce to introduce a superior by title.
Schuler was immediately impressed and took her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Hunt.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, John.” Leeny smiled coyly at him as she spoke.
Mace took note as Leeny held on to Schuler’s hand a moment longer than she should have, just as she had done with him when they first met in the limousine. She was good. That was certain. The little hand maneuver would probably be good for at least a few hundred million, and the slight southern drawl that had crept into her tone from nowhere would probably be good for more. But she hadn’t asked John to call her Leeny. That was interesting.
Schuler coughed self-consciously. “I’m very sorry to be late. The train was delayed.”
“Not a problem.” Leeny smiled warmly. “Please sit down.”
The three of them sat, and at once their cups and glasses were filled with coffee and orange juice by two young waiters.
“John, we’ve got to catch a plane this morning, so I’m going to get right to the heart of the matter.” Mace watched as Schuler pulled a large biscuit from the linen-lined wicker basket and began covering it first with butter, then with raspberry jam.
“Fine,” Schuler said as he took a huge bite of the biscuit.
Mace eyed Schuler while the banker chewed. His cheeks filled up like a chipmunk’s as he pushed more of the biscuit into his mouth. He was not a person who made an overpowering first impression, but he was a solid corporate banker who knew his way around his institution—and knew how to get a deal done. Mace turned to Leeny. “As I mentioned to you, John is an executive vice-president with Chase. He runs all domestic lending for the bank, which includes real estate lending and loans to financial institutions, such as funds like the one we are raising. He has been with Chase for almost twenty-five years, and if there is a person who can get this deal done, it’s John.”
Schuler nodded as he grabbed another biscuit.
Mace continued. “I’ve done a number of transactions with John and people who work for him since coming to Walker Pryce. Some of the deals might have seemed risky at first blush, but John saw through the risks, and all the deals have ultimately turned out quite well.”
“Mace has made me look like a star,” Schuler said as he chewed.
“He’s good at that.” Leeny glanced seductively at Mace over the rim of the cup as she sipped the hot coffee.
“Anyway.” Mace began again, turning back toward Schuler. “Here’s the deal, John. Walker Pryce is going to be raising a fund to be known as Broadway Ventures Limited.”
“How big will it be?” Schuler put down what remained of the second biscuit and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“We are looking for a total subscription of a billion dollars.”
Schuler whistled. “That’s big even for Walker Pryce. What’s the use of proceeds going to be? What will you do with all that money?”
“We’re going to buy Manhattan real estate and Big Board equities,” Mace answered, “which is confidential.”
“Of course.” Schuler waved a hand in front of his face. “Those types of assets are kind of pricey already, don’t you think, Mace?” Schuler placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of his face.
Mace glanced quickly at Leeny, then back at Schuler. “We think we know where there are some values.” Mace did not want to convey specifically Webster’s theory about the value corrections in the markets. That would smack of speculation, and speculation scared bankers to death. Even good ones like Schuler.
Schuler laughed and turned to Leeny. “If anyone else had said that, I would have told him they were crazy, right to his face.” He inhaled slowly. “But Mace has proved me wrong several times. And I know that Walker Pryce doesn’t do anything on a wing and a prayer.” He pushed the biscuit around on the plate. “Where will you get the money, the billion dollars of fund equity?”
“That’s her job.” Mace nodded at Leeny.
Leeny placed one elbow on the table, rested her chin in the palm of the hand, and leaned toward Schuler. “Walker Pryce will seed the fund with fifty million, but we’ll get the balance from wealthy U.S. families. In fact we already have preliminary circles for almost three hundred million.”
Mace glanced at Leeny quickly. That was news. It had been only two hundred just a few days ago. How in the hell could she be raising money that fast?
“Well, I can see why Walker Pryce brought you in at the managing director level, Ms. Hunt. That’s very impressive.” Schuler sipped his coffee, then looked at Mace. “And of course you want me to persuade Chase to lend you money on top of the billion of equity at some ridiculously low interest rate so you can leverage the fund, buy more stocks and property, and make even more money as their values go up.”
“That’s what I like about you, John. You get right to the point.” Mace patted Schuler on the back.
Schuler grinned wryly. “Of course, if the total value of the investments you make drops below the amount of my loan, I’m screwed.” His face became serious. “How much do you want to leverage the fund?”
“One to one,” Mace answered right away. “We want a billion dollars of bank debt on top of the billion in equity so that we have a total of two billion to invest.”
Schuler moved the coffee cup from his lips quickly and began to sputter. “One to one? In the nineties, Mace?” Schuler stared at Mace incredulous
ly. “You want me to arrange a billion dollars of bank financing on top of a billion dollars of equity for a fund? And I suppose this will be a blind pool; you will want to have very few restrictions from the banks on what you can invest in.”
Mace nodded solemnly.
Schuler shook his head. “That will be tough in today’s market, Mace. Even for you and Walker Pryce. I could probably get you five hundred million pretty quickly, given the fact that Walker Pryce will be the sponsor and that you personally are involved. Maybe seven-fifty. But a billion? It will be difficult to convince the powers that be at Chase to do that.”
“But Mace told me that you are one of the powers that be at Chase, John.” Leeny slid her left hand smoothly across the linen tablecloth until it reached Schuler’s. She squeezed his pudgy fingers for a moment, then pulled back.
Schuler smiled at her nervously. He wanted her to be impressed, but he did not want his career at Chase to grind to a halt at the executive vice-president level either. He had designs on a higher office. But he also realized that by committing to work on the project, he would see a great deal of this alluring creature over the next few weeks and perhaps beyond. Suddenly an image of his overweight credit card-guzzling wife flashed through his mind. He might never have a chance like this again. And the woman’s eyes were telling him that she might be willing to relax her morals a bit to get this money.
“So, what can you do for me?” Leeny tossed her head gently to one side. The blond tresses tumbled about her shoulders in waves. It was enough to push Schuler into the abyss.
Mace chuckled to himself, marveling at her work.
“Let’s say I could commit Chase to underwriting a billion dollars of bank debt, what would I get in return?” Schuler played with his silverware.
An underwriting commitment of a billion dollars. It was unbelievable, more than Mace could have hoped for. He had mentioned the one-to-one ratio simply as an unattainable opening salvo to establish one endpoint to the range, however ridiculous that endpoint was, as any good negotiator would start a discussion, with the hope that Schuler might ultimately see his way clear to saying he could underwrite perhaps half a billion dollars. But here was Schuler essentially committing Chase to a billion over breakfast. Schuler’s reaction was due in part, as he had said, to the fact that Walker Pryce—and Mace specifically—would be managing the fund. But Mace knew that Leeny’s little toss of the hair might have been just as important. Incredible, he thought. The real world.
The Vulture Fund Page 14
