"But not much, right?"

"Enough. Plus, he's willing to double our salaries," McGuire continued quickly. "And, if we keep growing the company, our shares could be worth hundreds of millions a few years down the road."

"How much is enough, Tom?" As Gillette said the words, he realized how ironic they sounded coming from him. He was worth seventy million and he was working eighty-hour weeks-and dealing with a.s.sa.s.sins. But he needed to put McGuire in a box, so he pressed. "Isn't ten million guaranteed today pretty d.a.m.n good?"

"No, it isn't. After taxes it would be under five, and that wouldn't be enough for a life's work. Stupid as it sounds, five million doesn't go very far these days. I want more. This is my best shot at really really cashing in. There won't be another opportunity like this." McGuire spoke faster the more animated he became. "I'm going to turn it back on you. Isn't $300 million enough? Why do you have to be a pig and go for five?" cashing in. There won't be another opportunity like this." McGuire spoke faster the more animated he became. "I'm going to turn it back on you. Isn't $300 million enough? Why do you have to be a pig and go for five?"

"It's my duty to my limited partners."

"Well, I have the same duty to myself."

"I can't accept a $200 million discount, Tom. It's that simple."

"After all Vince and I have done," McGuire muttered. "After the way we've slaved over the last three years for you and the rest of your d.a.m.n partners here at Everest. That's how your going to treat us?"

"It all comes down to the best deal. You know that."

McGuire rose from his chair, glaring down at Gillette. "Screw you and your best deal, Christian," he hissed, turning and stalking from the office.

Gillette watched him go. Happy he'd hired Quentin Stiles.

"I heard about what happened this morning on Park Avenue," Cohen said, sitting down in front of Gillette's desk. "You all right?"

"Fine," Gillette answered. "Thanks to Stiles." He checked Dominion's stock price quickly. It had dropped another two dollars in early trading. He clicked on the "Company News" option, but there were no stories explaining the price drop. "His guys saved my a.s.s."

"Really?"

"They're very good."

"I'm glad. Obviously."

"Yeah, McGuire was p.i.s.sed that I called his guys off the job, but it was the right move."

"I saw Tom walking out a few minutes ago. He didn't look very happy."

"He wasn't. But when you saw him, I don't think he was ticked about Stiles taking over."

"What was it then?" Cohen asked curiously.

"Tom and Vince want to buy McGuire & Company back from us."

Cohen straightened up in his chair. "Wow. That's interesting. Did he mention price?"

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"Three hundred million."

"But the investment bankers are talking five hundred." Cohen had been in on the IPO discussions with the investment bankers. "And we're close to signing the deal."

"Which is why Tom's so p.i.s.sed. He thinks I ought to ignore the I-bankers and take his $300 million offer."

"We couldn't do that. The limited partners would crucify us."

"Which is exactly what I told him. But, of course, he wouldn't listen." Gillette smiled thinly. "He got pretty angry about the whole thing at the end of our meeting."

Cohen took a deep breath. "Maybe it's a good thing you did take his guys off your security detail."

Gillette glanced up from the computer screen. "Ben Cohen," he said quietly. It was the first time he could ever remember Cohen saying something like that. Implying that someone's intent might be evil. "I'm proud of you."

A self-conscious smile played across Cohen's face. "Why?"

"Maybe someday you could take over one of our companies after all. You're finally starting to a.n.a.lyze motivation, not just numbers."

"What do you mean?"

"You think McGuire might be lax with my security because he's bitter that I won't sell him the company, right?"

"Yeah." Cohen hesitated. "You know, I've never really had faith in Tom and Vince."

"Why not?"

Cohen pushed out his lower lip. "I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's because the whole time we've been involved with them, I've thought they were angling toward this goal. You know, buying the company back from us on the cheap. For a while I was worried they might hold down profits so they could buy it more cheaply, but I don't think they've done that. Not that I can tell, anyway. Probably because you've ridden their a.s.ses about performance from the day we acquired the company." Cohen gave Gillette a respectful nod. "I don't think Donovan ever fully appreciated what a great job you've done with that company."

Gillette stared at Cohen for a moment. "Thanks."

"I know Tom respects the h.e.l.l out of you, Christian," Cohen continued. "He doesn't like you, but he respects you. I overheard him say that to Donovan once."

Starting with the day he'd graduated from Princeton, Gillette's father had urged him over and over never to completely trust anyone in business, but maybe Cohen had just earned it. Maybe he was the exception. They'd known each other for ten years, and Cohen had always been loyal, even after being pa.s.sed over for chairman. He'd been deeply disappointed, but he'd been able to control his emotions and still be supportive and helpful. Unlike Faraday and Mason, who'd been openly resentful.

"You said you had some information for me," Gillette reminded Cohen.

Cohen cleared his throat. "We heard back from the engineering firm about the seismic shoot in Canada."

"And?"

"It's not good," Cohen said glumly.

"Why?"

"There's oil on the option properties, but not much. Nothing to get excited about, nothing that would really turn the dial in terms of Laurel Energy's value. I spoke to a couple of a.n.a.lysts at the firm earlier this morning. After they gave me the bad news, they said most people are starting to think that there really aren't a lot of big undiscovered fields left up in Canada. That the exploration guys are looking more to fields offsh.o.r.e from Africa and South America. Canada's played, I guess."

"That wasn't what they were telling us a few years ago when we got into this thing."

"Things change. Unfortunately," Cohen continued, "I've got more bad news. Lefors got a call last night from the corporate development people at U.S. Petroleum. They're out. They've terminated the offer to purchase Laurel Energy. U.S. Petroleum's been paralyzed by Harris's death. n.o.body can do anything until a new CEO is named and that could take a couple of months."

Gillette rubbed his eyes. A h.e.l.l of a day this was turning out to be.

"Sorry, Christian," Cohen said gently. "I know you wanted an early win. Selling Laurel to USP at the price they were offering would have been nice."

"What about the $5 million no-go fee?"

"Lefors mentioned that to the USP guys on the call. And they-"

"And they told him to pound sand," Gillette interrupted, antic.i.p.ating what Cohen was going to say. "They probably told him to litigate."

"Not quite. They told him they'd pay us $500 thousand," Cohen explained. "What do you want me to do?"

"Have you looked at that letter of intent Lefors had USP sign?"

"I scanned it earlier this morning."

"How do you feel about the no-go fee language? Is it tight? Would we win in court?"

"It's pretty tight, but there's one clause in the paragraph that might give them some wiggle room. I'd say the odds would be sixty-forty us if we sued."

Sixty-forty. Not enough to justify several hundred grand in attorney fees. "Tell them we want a million bucks."

"Okay."

"Settle at seven hundred fifty. That's how it'll go down."

"Christian, there is one piece of good news," Cohen spoke up.

"What?"

"Yesterday afternoon a group named Coyote Oil contacted Lefors and started asking questions about Laurel."

"Coyote Oil?" Gillette had never heard of them.

"I've never heard of them either," Cohen acknowledged, reading Gillette's expression. "I'm having Lefors check them out. So far, about all he's been able to find out is that they're based in Casper, Wyoming. They're privately held, so there isn't much information available. Lefors asked them for some general stuff so we could qualify them. They're e-mailing that to us this morning."

"Have Lefors forward a copy of the info to Debbie so she can print it out for me," Gillette instructed.

"Okay."

"It'll be tough to get what USP was offering with the bad news on the option properties. We probably shouldn't even bother with them."

Cohen held up his hand. "Lefors said they were aggressive on the phone. Said they were trying to establish a base up in Canada quickly."

"You just told me Canada was played."

"Maybe they have information we don't. Fortunes are made faster with inside information than through slow and steady. We both know that. They claim they have a big backer, too," Cohen continued when Gillette didn't say anything. "Someone with very deep pockets."

"Everybody has a backer with deep pockets," Gillette said, exasperated, thinking about Tom McGuire. "Who is it?"

"They wouldn't say."

"Of course not." Gillette banged the desk with his fist. "They don't have anyone. They're on a fishing expedition. They aren't real."

"My gut says we give them a chance, Christian. You told me to always have a recommendation for you when I brought up something. Well, here it is: Give this a shot. Let it play out."

Another new wrinkle to Cohen's personality. Normally Cohen never paid attention to his gut-only hard data. Suddenly things were different. "What do you-"

"Like I said, Lefors mentioned to me that they were aggressive on the initial call," Cohen interrupted. "We should at least give them a chance."

"But they aren't going to pay what we want, especially if they're small. Even with a big backer they aren't going to have the strategic interest that big boys like U.S. Petroleum have."

Cohen shrugged. "I still think we should follow up."

Gillette studied the other man for a few moments. It seemed strange for Cohen to recommend going forward with a group he'd never heard of. He liked dealing with well-known players. But maybe this was a chance to test his instincts without risking anything but time. "Okay. Knock yourself out."

"Great," Cohen said approvingly, standing up.

"Don't go anywhere. We're not finished."

"What's up?" Cohen sank slowly back into his seat.

Gillette was hesitant to tell Cohen, but he wanted someone else's opinion. He wanted to make certain he wasn't being completely paranoid. And, of everyone he'd thought of going to, Cohen seemed like the best choice. Gillette took a deep breath. He was starting to trust the man. "Yesterday, Senator Stockman met with Paul Strazzi."

Cohen had been checking his notepad. "So?" he asked, glancing up. "He's probably just trying to shake Strazzi down for votes. The same way he tried to with you."

"They met in a Bronx warehouse. If the senator was looking for votes, he'd meet Strazzi at Apex."

"A Bronx warehouse?" Cohen asked curiously. "Really?"

"Yes."

"That is strange. How'd you find out?"

"I had Stiles put one of his people on Strazzi," Gillette explained.

"What do you figure is going on?"

Gillette hesitated, thinking about the best way to explain. "I had lunch earlier this week with Stockman."

"At the Racquet Club. I remember. And?"

"We hadn't even ordered and Stockman was turning up the heat on me about backing his campaign. Said he wanted me to tell our portfolio company employees to vote for him. Said he wanted to use our facilities for speeches and photo ops, and use our TV and radio network to support him."

"Incredible."

"Yeah, but I didn't bite. I said I wouldn't do it. I'm sure it was all he could do not to throw his gin and tonic against the wall."

"He told you how you'd have an enemy in Washington, I bet."

"Exactly," Gillette confirmed. "But there was something else."