Macher got up and closed his office door, then returned and sat down at his desk. He stared at the leather tooling before him for a long moment before he spoke. “Jake,” he said, in a low, earnest voice, “I want Fox dead.”
Oh, Jesus, Jake thought. He had been afraid it might come to this, but it turned out to be worse.
“Barrington, too,” Macher said.
“Erik,” Jake said in his calmest possible voice, “one hit is a difficult enough thing. Two hits is almost certainly a one-way ticket to Sing Sing.” He paused before adding, “For both of us.”
Macher began blinking rapidly, always a bad sign. “It’s worth the risk for me,” he said.
Jake drew himself up to his full, seated height. “In that case, Erik, you knock them off. I work for you, but I’m not going to prison for you.”
Macher stopped blinking, giving Jake hope. “You’re right, Jake, it’s too much to ask.”
Jake discovered that he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled in a rush. “I’m glad you see that, Erik.”
“Jake, what I need now is a partner whose loyalty to me is unquestioned, and it’s beginning to appear that you are not that partner.”
“Erik, I think that all my obligations to you are outlined in my employment agreement, and there’s nothing in it that covers murder.” Now he was afraid to inhale.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Jake. I viewed my request as something above and beyond your employment agreement, something that would require a substantial under-the-table, and therefore tax-free, payment.”
Jake breathed again. “And what did you have in mind, Erik?”
“I was thinking of a quarter of a million dollars, in cash.”
“That’s an attractive number, Erik, if it’s a quarter of a million each.”
Macher began blinking rapidly again, but then he relaxed. “All right,” he said.
It’s not as if it were your money, Jake thought. “And it’s very unlikely that I’ll be able to do them both at the same time.” He paused for effect. “However, I’ll give it some thought.”
“Of course, Jake, this is a business that requires careful planning, both in the execution and the follow-up.”
“Follow-up?”
“By that I mean, there must be no evidence connecting me or the company to the occurrence. We also have to consider where I would be when it happens.”
“Out of town, I expect.”
“Of course.”
Macher’s secretary knocked on the door and entered, an envelope in her hand. “This just came for you, hand-delivered,” she said.
Macher gazed at the envelope as if trying to divine its contents. Finally, he opened it and read the enclosed letter.
LEGAL NOTICE OF AN EMERGENCY MEETING OF THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS OF ST. CLAIR ENTERPRISES.
“Is something wrong, Erik?”
“The chairman of the board has called an emergency meeting of the board for ten AM tomorrow, in this office,” Macher said.
“What kind of emergency?”
“It doesn’t say.”
Macher picked up the phone. “Get me Tommy Berenson at his law office,” he said.
She came back a moment later. “I’m sorry, Mr. Macher, but the woman who answered — she wasn’t his secretary — said that Mr. Berenson is not in and not expected.”
“Thank you,” Macher said.
“Do you have any idea what this is about, Erik?” Jake asked.
“No, but you and I have to put together some names for board memberships. New names.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to fire the board before ten AM tomorrow.”
33
Charley Fox was in his office after lunch when Stella buzzed him.
“Yes?”
“Norm Keller from Goldman Sachs for you.”
Keller was Charley’s last boss at Goldman. Charley picked up the phone. “Hi, Norm,” he said.
“How you doing, Charley?”
“I can’t complain.”
“I saw the announcement in the Journal. Sounds like you’ve landed on your feet.”
“If you say so,” Charley said.
“I admit, I was envious of you when you left us for St. Clair. I figured you’d double or triple your income over there. Then St. Clair got blown up, and I wondered what had happened to you.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Is that Macher character still running St. Clair?” Keller asked.
“As far as I know, but a guy like Macher could evaporate at any moment.”
“Interesting,” Norm said. “I just got a hand-delivered letter from him, offering me a seat on the board at St. Clair. The money’s good, and the use of the yacht is thrown in.”
“Interesting.”
“What’s your take on this, Charley? Should I accept?”
“Just between you and me, Norm, I’d shred the letter and say nothing to anybody about it.”
“Why?”
“I can’t go into the details at the moment, but it’s my opinion that Macher’s position at St. Clair is precarious, to say the least, and dealing with him is an even more precarious state.”
“One other guy here got the same letter,” Keller said, “and he told me that a guy at Chase Private Bank got one, too.”
“Sounds like Macher is looking for a whole new board, doesn’t it?” Charley said. “Makes you wonder why, doesn’t it?”
“Does he have the authority to fire and replace the St. Clair board at the drop of a hat?”
“If he does, it won’t be for long, Norm. My advice to you and the others is to decline. Wait and see what happens.”
“I expect that’s good advice, Charley, and I thank you for it.” He hung up.
Charley got Stone Barrington and Mike Freeman on a conference call.
“What’s up, Charley?” Stone asked.
Charley related the content of the call from Keller. “What do you guys think is going on over there?”
“My guess,” Stone said, “is that the St. Clair board has heard about the two wills, maybe from the DA, and I heard this morning that Tommy Berenson’s license to practice law has been suspended by the Bar Association, pending a hearing. Remember, the bogus will gave Macher the authority to fire and replace the board, and that must be what he’s trying to do.”
“My guess,” Mike Freeman said, “is that by this time tomorrow, Macher will be on the street, and the board will remain as constituted.”
“Well,” said Charley, “if that happens there might be some opportunities where the St. Clair assets are concerned. From what I gleaned from their computer files, the company has more than half a billion dollars in assets, all of it in just the kind of companies we’re interested in acquiring, and St. Clair has no debt. Christian was always a very conservative businessman, and it’s been a long time since he borrowed any money.”
“Very, very interesting,” Mike said. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
“Call again,” Stone said, “if you hear anything new.” They all hung up.
Charley worked through the afternoon, and he was contemplating a drink when another call came in.
“Yes?”
“A Mr. Something-or-other Barnes on line one. I didn’t get the first name.”
Charley pressed the button. “This is Charles Fox.”
“Mr. Fox,” an elderly voice said, “this is Elihu Barnes. Does my name mean anything to you?”
“Yes, sir, it does. I believe you’re a banker and chairman of the board of St. Clair Enterprises. We met when Mr. St. Clair hired me.”
“You are correct, Mr. Fox, and I’m glad we don’t have to waste any time establishing my bona fides.”
“Certainly not.”
“Mr. Fox, there is about to be a major upheaval at St. Clair, and I and the other two members of our board, Mr. Maximus Quinn and Mr. George Fineman, would like to meet with you, if we may.”