“Oh, Hannibal this is perfect,” she said as the fresh fruit arrived. “I don’t know how you always know what I’ll want. This is a perfect celebration, maybe just a smidge early, for the Melville’s account.”
At least she was so excited about work right now that she didn’t seem to notice Hannibal’s nervousness. “Is that the business with the IPO?”
Cindy giggled at Hannibal’s ignorance. It seemed to him that she often did. “DPO, silly. IPO’s are a very different kind of offering. Say, isn’t that The Awakening? I love that piece.”
The sculpture Cindy referred to was of a silver-skinned bearded giant, half-buried in the Maryland shoreline. One arm reached skyward while the other had barely broken through the ground. His open mouth was large enough for a small child to climb into. He seems to be struggling for freedom as Nina’s Dandy floats past, much as Hannibal was struggling with words at that moment.
“He seems frozen in time,” Hannibal said. “And no man wants to be held static in time, you know. Time passes and life changes are called for, don’t you think? It’s amazing how much can happen in a few short months.”
“You are so right,” Cindy said, pushing plates and glasses to make room for the spinach salad. “Melville’s has already raised nearly nine million dollars, and their stock is rising instead of falling. This is a good thing, since they gave me a bunch of stock options at the start of this enterprise.”
A shadow passed over the table as the majestic vessel floated beneath the Fourteenth Street Bridge. Hannibal shoved a forkful of green into his mouth and wondered why anyone would think to put mandarin oranges into a green salad. The sweet citrus taste didn’t seem to fit.
“Is that amount unusual for an IPO,” he asked. “I mean a DPO. What the hell’s the difference, anyway?”
“Well, a direct public offering is just what the name says. The company can sell stock directly to the public, without a lot of the hateful registration and reporting requirements that IPOs go through. DPOs range in offerings from up to a million, all the way up to twenty five million, depending on the type of offering made. They all have different requirements and restrictions. This particular group is going for twenty-five million dollars, and there’s a bonus if we hit the total. There are only a few days left but I think it could happen.”
“They must have made quite a commitment to this business,” Hannibal said. Then he moistened his dry mouth with a little wine before speaking again. “Sometimes, commitment is a difficult thing. There can be risks, but when you really want something, you have to take action.” His hand eased toward his left trouser pocket.
“That’s the beauty of this approach for them,” Cindy said, moving her hands in a very animated fashion, her face glowing with the excitement Hannibal had seen on the faces of hunters getting close to a deer. “DPOs are designed so small businesses can raise capital in a relatively easy and low cost way. Venture capital and private investors aren’t always accessible to them. Then they face the scary task of trying to raise debt financing. DPOs let them raise equity financing instead, and at the same time they give investors a chance to get in early. Hey, here come our entrees. Hannibal, you are so sweet to think of this.”
The soft, jazz flavored background music seemed to swell as Hannibal’s prime rib arrived. Cindy had chosen the shrimp stuffed with breaded crab. He loved the way her silver necklace glinted in the fading sunlight as she bent to her food with obvious delight. Watching her perfect white teeth tear at the jumbo shrimp, he reflected again on the phenomenon of a woman who could make eating a meal an act of sensuous abandon.
Conversation stilled as they dined, and words seemed unnecessary toward the end of the meal. At some unspoken signal they reached for each other and held hands while they watched evening turn into night around them. They enjoyed the show as Downtown Washington lit up. Their view of the Lincoln Memorial was stunning, but not as moving as the perfect picture that shaped up in front of them as the Washington Monument and the lighted Capitol Dome slid into position to present a postcard come to life. The reflecting pool, stretched out between them and the monuments, appeared to have been placed there in anticipation that these two lovers would some day sit in this exact spot in the middle of the Potomac to see it.
The Kennedy Center and the oddly curved Watergate Hotel complex moved past before the canned music was replaced by live tinkling from the piano at the center of the deck and the sharp but sweet aroma of cinnamon-heavy apple pie drew Hannibal’s senses back into the ship.
“I hope that pie is as good as this cheesecake,” Cindy said. Her dark eyes told him that she had drunk just enough wine with dinner to loosen her up a notch. Maybe he would try one more time. He emptied his glass, and took Cindy’s other hand.
“Cindy, I talked to a girl today who wants my help with a problem, but I think she found it difficult to talk to me. You know, sometimes it’s hard for people to discuss what’s really important with someone face to face. You know what I mean?”
“Oh, yeah baby, it’s the same in my business,” she said. “That’s what makes the Internet so great. Like for this case I’m working right now. See, unlike an IPO certain DPOs let companies actively advertise and promote the sale of their stock. The SEC even allows the electronic transfer of the company's prospectus to an investor. That way, the company execs don’t have to be salesmen and talk to people, you know? Hey, name that tune!”
“What?” Hannibal had to think a minute. She had switched gears twice, and landed on a very old jazz tune coming from the piano.
“Isn’t that Deep Purple?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I want to dance. Don’t you want to dance?” They rose together without their hands parting. As they arrived at their spot a few feet from the other two dancing couples, Cindy asked, “So what about that case? Are you going to take it?”
Hannibal clamped his eyes shut and stifled a sigh, accepting that this evening would simply not go in the direction he expected it to. Their night had become her night, and he would simply have to devise another opportunity to pop the question.
“Well, it looks like I’ll have time for a case in the next few days. I guess I’ll take it after all.”
5
For Hannibal it was the start of a typical workday, if there was such a thing. There was a limit to the kinds of trouble people got into, so there were only so many ways for Hannibal to earn his living. Some days, he provided physical protection for someone. Like his last case, that was mostly waiting for something to happen. Some days he delivered messages his client could not deliver themselves, usually backing the message up with violence. That kind of trouble most often ended quickly. Hannibal’s time in the secret service had prepared him well for those assignments.
The rest of his workdays were what he called legwork days. That meant doing the drudgework he hated, pursuing leads to find something or someone. His days with the New York police department had prepared him for those days.
After a good long run to clear his head and a frozen waffle breakfast, he brewed a fresh pot of coffee and worked the telephone for a couple of hours. He didn’t tell Anita, but she had actually given him a pretty good lead on Rod. The car he drove was a very special customization. Whoever did that work would remember it. And people who do that kind of thing know each other. One call to an auto customizer led to another, on a telephone trail that seemed to move farther and farther west, until he got the comment he was waiting for.