“Well, I don’t think so.” St. John skimmed through his worn-out notebook with a languid smile before looking up. “I’m not a star like Alex Sontheim, but I would be the perfect managing director. What do you think, Vince?”
“Let’s tackle this first,” Levy responded coolly.
The position of managing director had been vacant at LMI since Gilbert Shanahan was literally crushed by a truck on his way to an SEC hearing—a year and a half ago. Poor Gilbert had been declared dead on the spot.
“I am very loyal.” St. John leaned forward, and a brooding expression appeared in his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Levy’s face was relaxed, but St. John’s emphasis of the word loyal triggered an uneasy feeling in his stomach. St. John had never uttered a word about the details of this unpleasant matter with Shanahan; as a result, Levy had almost forgotten that this man knew almost everything about what had happened.
“We’ll talk about that when the time is right,” he said. He stood up to signal to St. John that the conversation was over. “I would like you to contact Alex Sontheim right away. Can you manage that?”
St. John raised his eyebrows mockingly and grinned.
“Are you joking, Vince?” He also stood up. “By right away, you mean today? Or is tomorrow early enough for you?”
Levy gave him a cold smile.
“Ideally, in an hour,” he parried, and reached for the telephone receiver. St. John got the hint. He bowed slightly and left Levy’s office. Levy waited until St. John closed the door behind him. Then he walked across his office to his fully equipped bar. He poured himself a scotch—straight, without ice—and stepped toward the window again. Recruiting Alex Sontheim was the perfect move. He would spare neither trouble nor expense to do so.
PART ONE
July 1998—New York City
Alex Sontheim didn’t regret her move from Morgan Stanley to Levy Manhattan for one single moment, and she was sure Vincent Levy wasn’t sorry he had won her over with his generous offer last February. With a fixed salary of two million dollars plus bonuses and commissions, Alex was among the best-paid investment bankers in the city, and she had already silenced any skeptics on LMI’s board of directors with three spectacular deals.
Along with their revenues, LMI’s reputation in the highly competitive M&A market went soaring. Levy was euphoric; it couldn’t get better than this. General Engines and United Brake Systems were both blue-chip companies, and, through Alex, LMI successfully represented them. The Wall Street Journal called LMI a “serious competitor” to Merrill Lynch, Goldman Sachs, and Morgan Stanley in the field of M&A, and Alex was solely responsible for it. She had a keen sense for the markets, a sharp eye, ruthlessness, and experience—plus the necessary connections to remain at the top of the food chain in this business. From her office window on the fourteenth floor of the LMI Building, she had a fantastic view of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and the harbor. It was this breathtaking panorama that made her realize how incredibly far she had come in her career over the past years. She smiled in satisfaction. At the age of thirty-five, she felt well on her way to the top.
Now she was playing in the major leagues—and she had made it completely on her own. The telephone startled her out of her reverie. It was Zack, her former colleague at Franklin Myers and currently the managing director of LMI, to whom she more or less owed this job. He asked her to join a board meeting, scheduled at short notice on the thirtieth floor. Alex shut down her computer, grabbed her briefcase, and quickly rushed across the trading floor. It was already late on a Friday afternoon, and the normally hectic floor was deserted except for a cleaning crew. The traders had vanished into their weekends the moment trading closed on the NYSE. Alex swiped her badge through the reader next to the elevator door. Security at LMI was as tight as at the Pentagon; every swipe of the card was recorded by a central computer.
Alex assessed her appearance in the mirror, while the silent elevator transported her sixteen floors higher. It was far more difficult for a woman in her position to be accepted by colleagues and business partners than for a man. She had to be tough and unyielding, but without seeming masculine. She had perfectly mastered this balancing act after twelve years on Wall Street. She gave her mirror image a friendly smile. People in this city had long stopped making the mistake of underestimating her. Someone had once accused her of being cold and ruthless, but Alex saw this as a compliment—essential survival skills in this tough man’s world.
The elevator stopped on the thirtieth floor with a subtle ring, and Alex took a deep breath. She walked along a mahogany-paneled hallway lined with exquisitely lit expressionist paintings—surely originals and worth a fortune. The thick Aubusson runner rugs over the reddish marble swallowed the sound of her steps. Every detail of the furnishings exuded solidity, power, and success. Anyone who sat on the thirtieth floor had made it. Alex smiled. One of these days, in the not too distant future, her name would also be on one of these doors.
She knocked on the door of the large conference room—it was as wide as the whole building—and entered. The windows stretched from the ceiling to the floor, and the view to the east across the river to Brooklyn was spectacular. Although she had been here a few times before, she was impressed anew by the vast space. The thought flashed through her mind that this room was designed not just to impress but to intimidate.
The entire board of directors sat around the giant, polished round table, which looked like it was carved from one piece—like the legendary Round Table of Camelot: CEO Vincent Levy, Vice President Isaac Rubinstein, CFO Michael Friedman, Head Analyst Hugh Weinberg, Legal Department Head Francis Dayton-Smith, Chairman of the Board Ron Schellenbaum, Director of Emerging Markets and International Business John Kwai, and Managing Director Zachary St. John.
“Hello,” Alex said and smiled. “I hope I’m not late.”
Vincent Levy jumped up and walked over to her with a smile. “Oh no, Alex,” he said, extending his hand to her, “thank you for coming. I decided at the last minute to invite you to our meeting. After all, you made a major contribution to our recent successes.”
Alex smiled as she look around at the group’s benevolent but probing expressions. She couldn’t figure out Levy. There was a core as hard as iron hiding behind his smooth demeanor. People didn’t make it to the very top on Wall Street by being modest or friendly. She sat down between John Kwai and Zack. Her heart was beating in excitement when she realized that she was sitting as an equal among the most powerful men of the firm. Even though her job was exciting and satisfying, her next goal was to permanently establish herself in this circle. Levy spoke about the positive developments in M&A, but also about currency and equities trading and the underwriting of promising dot-com companies. Then Hugh Weinberg reported on his forecasts.
Levy had recruited Weinberg from Prudential Securities. Weinberg’s opinion was highly respected and second to none on Wall Street—he was known and feared for his accurate analyses and proven forecasts. Alex was filled with pride that he had such high regard for her work. His market analysis was followed by Michael Friedman’s dry report on the past quarter’s revenues and profits. When at seven thirty Levy closed the meeting by thanking all of the attendees, Alex wondered why she had been invited in the first place. She was standing up, ready to leave, when Levy signaled for her to stay.