Now Hamilton was not so subtly reminding Mace of the conflict. What held true for stocks held true for bonds as well, and Hamilton had a massive bond position.
Mace’s expression turned serious. It was time to remind Hamilton that he and Maryland Mutual had been able to provide their policyholders with startlingly strong returns over the past five years directly as a result of Walker Pryce’s advice. As quickly as Wall Street gave, it could take away. Wall Street was a tiny cartel; at most there were ten firms that consistently originated significant investment opportunities the size of which interested a Maryland Mutual. They were a tiny but powerful cartel. As strong as the OPEC oil cartel was, its influence over world economies paled in comparison. And if you irritated a member of the Wall Street cartel, or club, as its members preferred it to be called, your investment opportunities would dry up like a stream in the desert.
It was time for Mace to dust Roger Hamilton. “As you are well aware, Roger, investment bankers provide liquidity, opportunity, and the best advice we can to our clients. That’s all we can do. We can’t control the real estate market. You know that. It follows its own random walk. All we can do is bring you opportunities and be there when you need us.” Mace spoke evenly but firmly. “Or not be there for you when you need us most.”
Hamilton held up a hand. “Of course, Mace. Maryland Mutual is very pleased with the work Walker Pryce has done for us.” He had heard the warning in Mace’s last words.
Mace nodded. The understanding had been reached.
Hamilton smiled broadly for the first time. “I don’t really think we’re in for a correction in the real estate market anyway. If there is one, it will be slight, not enough to get excited about. Certainly not enough to raise billions for.” Hamilton was a man who had to have the last word. It was simply his nature. And his comment and his unusually large smile were meant to convey the last word.
Mace ignored the missile. “If you don’t mind, I have some questions about your portfolio. It’s been a few months since I’ve gone through it with you, and I’d like an update.”
“Okay,” Hamilton said.
Suddenly the intercom on Hamilton’s desk squawked loudly. “Mr. Hamilton?”
“Yes, Rose.” Hamilton rolled his eyes as her voice crackled through the speaker.
“George Warner needs to see you for a moment.”
Hamilton groaned as he lifted himself from his chair. “I’ll be right back.”
Leeny allowed her head to fall back as Hamilton exited the office. It was going to feel so good to crawl into her bed tonight and pull the covers up around herself. She would be asleep by eight.
“So what in the world were you up to last night?”
Leeny sat up with a start. She shook her head slightly, then straightened herself in the chair. “What are you talking about?”
“You seem a little”—Mace paused, then grinned—“off, shall we say?”
“It’s that time of the month,” Leeny responded immediately.
“Oh.” Mace looked away quickly.
Leeny ran her fingers through her hair. That time of the month. It was the ultimate female cop-out, but it was effective. It could stop an unhappy boss in the middle of a tirade and a police officer about to deliver a speeding ticket. As long as the other party was male, it was successful 99 percent of the time.
“I thought maybe you had gone to dinner with Schuler,” Mace said quietly.
She glanced at him. He was looking at something on Hamilton’s desk. “No,” she said firmly. “I talked to him for a while at Chase, then went home. Alone.” She paused for a moment. “Why did you say that?”
“Oh, he called me at the office last night around eight o’clock from some restaurant to say that he had just gotten off the phone with his chief credit officer at Chase. The deal was approved last night. A billion dollars of bank debt underwritten by the Chase Bank. Can you believe it?” Mace shook his head as if he couldn’t. “I was going to ask you if you had heard while we were on the plane, but you looked pretty tired, so I didn’t want to disturb you.” He paused. “Pretty soon we’re going to have two billion dollars to play with, Leeny. I just hope I can do something with it. I hope your faith in me is justified.”
But Leeny did not hear the last few words. Her vision blurred as the blood pounded in her head. Schuler had left the restaurant table at eight o’clock last night supposedly just to use the rest room. He hadn’t been away from the table for long, so she had thought nothing of it. Apparently he had called his chief credit officer and then Mace in those few minutes, but when Schuler had returned, he hadn’t mentioned a word about the calls. The little bastard. He had used her so badly. There hadn’t been any reason to endure the torture. The deal had been done before she had gone to the hotel room with him. She felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“Are you okay, Leeny?” Mace touched her hand gently. Her skin was burning up.
“I’m fine,” she said hesitantly. But she wasn’t fine. She needed to get to a ladies’ room immediately. She stood quickly and rushed for the door, clutching her stomach.
* * *
—
“Slade, this is Kathleen Hunt,” Mace said, making the introduction. “She and I work together at Walker Pryce.”
“Hello, Kathleen.” Slade took her hand gently, then quickly let it go. He thought he recognized the woman, so he was careful not to look at her too long in case the context of his recollection was not favorable. Instead he glanced at her several times quickly, each time for less than two seconds because his training had taught him that if subjects became aware of you staring at them for longer than that short period of time, they instantly suspected that you were up to something and would pay careful attention to you. He did not want her to pay careful attention to him.
Kathleen Hunt. Kathleen Hunt. The name and the face were so familiar, but he could not place her. He cursed under his breath. He rarely forgot a name—or a face.
“Hi,” Leeny said quickly. She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was go home. But she could not let Mace out of her sight. Those were Webster’s orders. Especially since they were in Washington.
As they stood in the reception area of Clyde’s, a popular restaurant in the center of Georgetown, a young hostess waved at them from the center of the room. “Over there,” she yelled, motioning toward an empty window table.
They moved quickly toward the table. It was just after noon, and the place was packed. They were lucky to have gotten a spot.
Mace held Leeny’s chair as they got to the table, and she collapsed into it. She did not remove her sunglasses despite the fact that it was fairly dark inside the restaurant. She wanted to hide, to crawl under a rock and be forgotten. Her stomach was still queasy, and the smell of freshly cooked food was not helping matters. “What did you say you did, Slade?” She wanted to get her obligatory words in quickly and then fade from view.
“I’m an attorney.” Slade winked at Mace. It was the safest response possible in Washington. There were thousands of law firms in Washington. If she asked whom he worked for, he could make up a name and she would never know the difference.
She nodded but showed no further interest.
Mace grinned. “Leeny is feeling a little under the weather.”
“Oh.” Slade glanced at her again. It was coming to him. He was almost there, almost certain of why her name and face were so familiar.
“I’m all right, really.” But she wasn’t. She needed to go to the ladies’ room again. “I’ll be right back.” She rose to find the lavatory.
Mace and Slade rose quickly as well, helping her away from her inside position at the table. Slowly they sat back down as they watched her disappear toward the back of the room.
Slade tapped his fingers on the table. Almost. He almost had it.
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Mace smiled broadly at his cl
ose friend. Slade never could get enough of the women. “I knew you’d like her. Unfortunately she’s not doing that well today. I told her to go home ahead of me, but she—”
Suddenly Slade turned back toward Mace. He had not remembered everything about the woman, but he had remembered enough. He cut Mace off in mid-sentence. “If you ever need anything, call me. You know you can count on me.”
Mace pulled back slightly. He had never heard that tone before. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Slade eyed Mace for several seconds; then his face relaxed. He did not want to alarm Mace. And he could tell him no more. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just remember to call me if you need anything. Anything.”
Mace nodded, still uncertain of the hidden meaning he had detected in the tone of his friend’s voice.
* * *
—
Rachel had been waiting for this moment since leaving the restaurant last Friday evening. Waiting to see the handsome face and comforting smile, the confident walk and flashing eyes. Waiting for the warm feeling that took over her body instantly each time she saw him. She had ignored the telephone long enough. She knew he felt something for her. She had left him at the restaurant and remained beyond his reach for the last few days to make him realize in no uncertain terms just how much he felt for her.
Her breathing was short as she anticipated his arrival. He would stride through the door as he always did, focused on the black table at the front of the room. He would reach it, put down his leather briefcase, remove his coat and jacket and lay them on the table, then glance around the room for several seconds. He would look at everyone and everything in the lecture hall but her. Finally his gaze would come to her, as it always did. As his eyes fell on her, his expression would change subtly. Not enough for anyone except her to notice. And she would smile back at him, letting him know that everything was all right. They would definitely talk after class. Maybe it would be dinner. Maybe it would be even more. Perhaps by the end of the evening she would be where she really wanted to be: with him.
“Rachel, did you prepare the case pretty well?” Don Hammonds sat next to Rachel in the sky deck. He had not prepared the case at all and was worried that Mace would cold-call him to start the class because he had not yet been called on to do so. Hammonds was searching for a lifeline, and he knew Rachel was a good place to start looking.
“Yes.” She slid her notebook across the tabletop toward Hammonds without taking her eyes from the door. It was almost seven o’clock, and there was still no sign of Mace.
“Thanks.” Hammonds grabbed the spiral notebook and began taking copious notes.
Rachel did not respond.
Then her heart sank. Dean Fenton moved purposely through the door and to the dais next to the black table. The hum of conversation diminished at once.
He rapped his pipe on the lectern despite the fact that the classroom was already quiet. “Good evening.” His face was sour. “Well, Mr. McLain has kept up a perfect record of attendance so far, so I suppose I shouldn’t be too upset.” He paused. “Mr. McLain has been unavoidably detained on a deal tonight and will not be able to make class. And we have no one else to teach the course tonight, so go home and study for midterms.” With that he was gone, out the door and down the hall.
For several moments, until the class was certain Fenton was far enough out of range, they remained in their seats, quietly gathering papers together. Then they let out a huge cheer and slapped one another on the back. They were joyous at the prospect of not being embarrassed by a difficult question or asked to lead a discussion on some tough point of real estate finance. They all were excited. All except Rachel. As the class erupted around her, she remained still.
“Thanks, Rachel.” Hammonds shoved the notebook back at Rachel. “Won’t be needing that tonight after all. Thank God.” He rose, picked up his knapsack, and was gone, with the others.
Rachel sat in her seat until everyone else had left the room. Then, slowly, she began gathering her things. Suddenly she was sorry she had ignored what had to have been Mace’s calls.
* * *
—
“So, how was your friend Roger Hamilton?” Webster sat behind the antique desk in his office, looking out at Mace from beneath the dark eyebrows.
“As chauvinistic as ever, I imagine.” Leeny cut in as she allowed herself to be swallowed up by the comfortable couch of Webster’s office. “Although it’s the first time I’ve ever met the man, I can’t believe he has developed his complete lack of respect for women since you last saw him.” Leeny glanced at Mace and then closed her eyes as she said the words. She hadn’t wanted to come back to the office after the Washington excursion. She had wanted to go directly to bed upon their return. But Webster had left a message for them with Hamilton’s secretary, instructing them to come back to Walker Pryce right after their plane had landed at La Guardia.
“Roger was just his normal self. He wasn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Leeny became suddenly agitated. “He thinks it’s a travesty women were given the right to vote. He’s a Neanderthal.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Mace grinned.
“He’s a bastard,” she said icily.
“Enough,” Webster whispered sharply. He was not amused by their back-and-forth.
Mace glanced at Leeny. He had not heard that tone in her voice before.
“What was Mr. Hamilton’s reaction to Broadway Ventures?” Webster asked.
Mace moved to a chair next to the sofa. “First Roger got irritated because I was telling him the real estate market was going to crash. Bad news for someone to whom we’ve sold billions of dollars’ worth of mortgage bonds in the last two years. Then he told me it didn’t really matter anyway because he didn’t think much of our idea. He doesn’t think the real estate market is going to crash.”
Leeny could hear the frustration building in Mace’s voice. He had expressed it to her several times in the last several weeks, as they had been snubbed over and over.
Webster ignored Mace’s cynical tone. “Did you relay the prices Broadway Ventures would pay for his bonds? The prices I told you to relay to him.”
Mace did not answer immediately.
“Did he?” Webster turned toward Leeny.
Mace’s mouth opened slightly. Webster had gone off the deep end. Mace had generated fifty million dollars of fee income for Walker Pryce last year, and here was Lewis Webster, the senior partner, checking up on him with Leeny, who had barely been with the firm a few weeks. What kind of loyalty did this show? What kind of trust was this? “Lewis, I…”
“Did he convey the prices to Hamilton?” Webster’s eyes bored into Leeny.
She despised Webster. Everything about him. “Yes. Mace conveyed the prices to Hamilton.”
Mace turned toward Leeny. She could have told Webster the truth and probably been running the fund by herself. Yet she had come through for him. She had lied. He turned back to Webster. “Lewis, you have got to be more realistic about pricing. The prices for the properties you are setting are too low. And we haven’t even talked about the share prices the two mergers and acquisition analysts have come up with. Every stock they have recommended as undervalued you have rejected. What’s going on here?” Mace stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. He could no longer control himself. “You don’t think the stocks the analysts have recommended are undervalued, so you must think they are over-valued. Right?” He was working Webster into a corner.
Webster shifted uncomfortably in the large chair but did not respond. He knew where Mace was going with this argument, and he did not want to go there.
“So if you think the stocks are overvalued, let’s short them. Let’s buy puts or sell calls.” Mace moved slowly toward Webster.
“No.” Webster stood slowly and leaned over the desk, resting both hands on the desktop. Suddenly he was sorry he h
ad involved this brash young investment banker in the fund—even if Mace had already opened many doors for Leeny that neither she nor Webster would have otherwise known about.
Suddenly Mace sincerely regretted his failure to heed his gut reaction to this project when Webster had first presented it to him. Finally he turned and headed toward the door.
Leeny rose to follow him, but Webster’s gaze froze her in her tracks. The door banged loudly behind Mace as he moved into the hallway.
“Where were you going?” Webster did not appreciate the fact that her first reaction had been to follow Mace.
She set her jaw. “Home, Lewis. I just want to go home.” She moved toward the desk the way Mace had moments earlier. “Last night I did what you and that monster in Washington asked me to do.” She was breathing heavily. “I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me.” The lump was forming in her throat again. “And all I want to do now is go home and go to sleep. And hope I don’t have nightmares about how I compromised myself last night.” She turned and began to walk toward the door.
“Stop right there.” His whisper was menacing.
She wanted to keep moving, not to stop. To walk out the door of Webster’s office and never come back. Webster could have her killed anytime he wanted. She had no doubt of that now.
“Has he really introduced you to twenty-five investors?”
Leeny nodded. She could hear by his voice that he was coming toward her.
“And do you have the complete list of stocks the analysts in the M & A department have come up with? And the stocks within that list Mace feels most strongly about?”
“No. He has that list.”
Webster stood directly behind her now. He gazed at the long golden hair streaming down her back. She was beautiful. He had paid no attention to his urges for so long. He could only imagine what lay beneath the snugly fitting dress. But he no longer wanted simply to imagine. He wanted to know. “Mace McLain has almost outlived his utility. Do you understand?”
The Vulture Fund Page 22
