Noble House

"I know you. Oh yes. I know you, old boy."
"Do you now?"
"Yes. You won't be satisfied just with destructing our 'friend,' you'll want the whole pie."
"Will I now?"
"Yes. You've wanted a stake in the U.S. market too long."
"And you."
"No. We know where our toast's toasted. We're content to trail along behind. We're content with Asia. We don't want to be a noble anything."
"Oh?"
"No. Then it's a deal?"
"No," Gornt said.
"I'll drop the shipping totally. Instead I'll take lan's Kowloon Investments, the Kai Tak operation, and 40 percent of the landholdings in Thailand and Singapore, and I'll accept 25 percent of Par-Con and three places on the board."
"Get stuffed!"
"The offer's good till Monday."
"Which Monday?"
"Next Monday."
"Dew neh loh moh on all your Mondays!"
"And yours! I'll make you a last offer. Kowloon Investments and their Kai Tak operation totally, 35 percent of all their landholdings in Thailand and Singapore, and 10 percent of the Yankee pie with three seats on the board."
"Is that all?"
"Yes. Again, the offer's good till next Monday. And don't think you can gobble us in the process."
"Have you gone mad?"
"I told you—I know you. Is it a deal?"
"No."
Again the soft, malevolent laugh. "Till Monday—next Monday. That's time enough for you to make up your mind."
"Will I see you at lan's party tonight?" Gornt asked thinly.
"Have you gone bonkers! I wouldn't go if… Good God, Quillan, are you really going to accept? In person?"
"I wasn't going to—but now I think I will. I wouldn't want to miss perhaps the last great party of the Struans' last tai-pan. . . ."
7
12:01 P.M. :
In the boardroom it was still rough going for Casey. They would take none of the baits she offered. Her anxiety had increased and now as she waited she felt a wave of untoward fear go through her.
Phillip Chen was doodling, Linbar fiddling with his papers, Jacques deVille watching her thoughtfully. Then Andrew Gavallan stopped writing the latest percentages she had quoted. He sighed and looked up at her. "Clearly this should be a co-financing operation," he said, his voice sharp. Electricity in the room soared and Casey had difficulty suppressing a cheer as he added, "How much would Par-Con be prepared to put up, joint financing, for the whole deal?"
"18 million U.S. this year should cover it," she answered immediately, noting happily that they all covered a gasp.
The published net worth of Struan's last year was almost 28 million, and she and Bartlett had gauged their offer on this figure.
"Make the first offer 20 million," Line had told her. "You should hook 'em at 25 which'd be great. It's essential we co-finance, but the suggestion's got to come from them."
"But look at their balance sheet, Line. You can't tell for sure what their real net worth is. It could be 10 million either way, maybe more. We don't know how strong they really are … or how weak. Look at this item: '14.7 million retained in subsidiaries.' What subsidiaries, where and what for? Here's another one: '7.4 million transferred to—' "
"So what, Casey? So it's 30 million instead of 25. Our projection's still valid."
"Yes—but their accounting procedures . . . My God, Line, if we did one percent of this in the States the SEC'd have our asses in a sling and we'd end up in jail for fifty years."
"Yes. But it's not against their law, which is a major reason for going to Hong Kong."
"20 is too much for openers."
"I'll leave it to you, Casey. Just remember in Hong Kong we play Hong Kong rules—whatever's legal. I want in their game."
"Why? And don't say 'for my goddamn pleasure.' "
Line had laughed. "Okay—then for your goddamn pleasure. Just make the Struan deal!"
The humidity in the boardroom had increased. She would have liked to reach for a tissue but she kept still, willing them onward, pretending calm.
Gavallan broke the silence. "When would Mr. Bartlett confirm the offer of 18 million … if we accepted?"
"It's confirmed," she said sweetly, passing over the insult. "I have clearance to commit up to 20 million on this deal without consulting Line or his board," she said, deliberately giving them room to maneuver. Then she added innocently, "Then it's all settled? Good." She began to sort out her papers. "Next: I'd—"
"Just a moment," Gavallan said, off balance. "I, er, 18 is … In any event we have to present the package to the tai-pan."
"Oh," she said, pretending surprise. "I thought we were negotiating as equals, that you four gentlemen had powers equal to mine. Perhaps I'd better talk to Mr. Dunross directly in the future."
Andrew Gavallan flushed. "The tai-pan has final say. In everything."
"I'm very glad to know it, Mr. Gavallan. I only have final say up to 20 million." She beamed at them. "Very well, put it to your tai-pan. Meanwhile, shall we set a time limit on the consideration period?"
Another silence.
"What do you suggest?" Gavallan said, feeling trapped.
"Whatever the minimum is. I don't know how fast you like to work," Casey said.
Phillip Chen said, "Why not table that answer until after lunch, Andrew?"
"Yes—good idea."
"That's fine with me," Casey said. I've done my job, she thought.
I'll settle for 20 million when it could've been 30 and they're men and expert, and over twenty-one and they think I'm a sucker. But now I get my drop dead money. Dear God in heaven let this deal go through because then I'm free forever.
Free to do what?
Never mind, she told herself. I'll think about that later.
She heard herself continue the pattern: "Shall we go through the details of how you'd like the 18 million and …"
"18 is hardly adequate," Phillip Chen interrupted, the lie coming very easily. "There are all sorts of added costs. . . ."
In perfect negotiating style Casey argued and allowed them to push her to 20 million and then, with apparent reluctance, she said, "You gentlemen are exceptional businessmen. Very well, 20 million." She saw their hidden smiles and laughed to herself.
"Good," Gavallan said, very satisfied.
"Now," she said, wanting to keep the pressure on, "how do you want our joint venture corporate structure to be? Of course subject to your tai-pan—sorry, subject to the tai-pan's approval," she said, correcting herself with just the right amount of humility.
Gavallan was watching her, irritably wishing she were a man. Then I could say, up yours, or go shit in your hat, and we'd laugh together because you know and I know you always have to check with the tai-pan in some way or another—whether it's Dunross or Bartlett or a board or your wife. Yes, and if you were a man we wouldn't have this bloody sexuality in the boardroom which doesn't belong here in the first place. Christ, if you were an old bag maybe that'd make a difference but, shit, a bird like you?
What the hell gets into American women? Why in the name of Christ don't they stay where they belong and be content with what they're great at? Stupid!
And stupid to concede financing so quickly, and even more stupid to give us an extra two million when ten would probably have been acceptable in the first place. For God's sake, you should have been more patient and you would have made a much better deal! That's the trouble with you Americans, you've—no finesse and no patience and no style and you don't understand the art of negotiation, and you, dear lady, you're much too impatient to prove yourself. So now I know how to play you.
He glanced at Linbar Struan who was watching Casey covertly, waiting for him or Phillip or Jacques to continue. When I'm tai-pan,
Gavallan thought grimly, I'm going to break you, young Linbar, break you or make you. You need shoving out into the world on your own, to make you think for yourself, to rely on yourself, not on your name and your heritage. Yes, with a lot more hard work to take some of the heat out of your yang—the sooner you remarry the better.
His eyes switched to Jacques deVille who smiled back at him. Ah Jacques, he thought without rancor, you're my main opposition. You're doing what you usually do: saying little, watching everything, thinking a lot—rough, tough and mean if necessary. But what's in your mind about this deal? Have I missed something? What does your canny legal Parisian mind forecast? Ah but she stopped you in your tracks with her joke about your joke about her nose, eh?
I'd like to bed her too, he thought absently, knowing Linbar and Jacques had already decided the same. Of course—who wouldn't?
What about you, Phillip Chen?
Oh no. Not you. You like them very much younger and have it done to you, strangely, if there's any truth to the rumors, heya?
He looked back at Casey. He could read her impatience. You don't look lesbian, he thought and groaned inwardly. Is that your other weakness? Christ, that'd be a terrible waste!
"The joint venture should be set up under Hong Kong law," he said.
"Yes of course. There's—"
"Sims, Dawson and Dick can advise us how. I'll arrange an appointment for tomorrow or the day after."
"No need for that, Mr. Gavallan. I already got their tentative proposals, hypothetical and confidential, of course, just in case we decided to conclude."
"What?" They gaped at her as she took out five copies of a short form, legal contract and handed one to each of them.
"I found out they were your attorneys," she said brightly. "I had our people check them out and I was advised they're the best so they were fine with us. I asked them to consider our joint hypothetical needs—yours as well as ours. Is anything the matter?"