“That’s what he said. But I don’t like the way he went straight out to his old lady’s shack in East Hampton. He hasn’t budged off the property since. And there’s a carload of Justice Department cops watching the place.”
“Maybe they want to make sure he doesn’t run for it.”
“And maybe they want to make sure we don’t get to him,” Hackman snapped. “What if he’s talked?”
“If he talked, they’d keep him in protective custody, wouldn’t they?”
Villiers said, “Shut up, both of you. It’s easy enough to settle. Get him on the phone and ask him.”
“I asked him last night,” Isher said. “He told me he didn’t say a word. Just demanded to have his lawyer present when they questioned him. They hollered at him for a while and then let him go. He says. No reason why he’d change the story now if we ask him again.”
Villiers shrugged. “Claiborne fired him for manipulating the Wakeman Fund. They probably had him on the griddle over that. If he’d talked about us, they’d have come after us by now, I think. There’s no point carrying on about it-we’ve got other fish to fry.”
“We have,” Sidney Isher agreed. His eyelid ticked irregularly. “Let me tell you something. Cleland and his boys are preparing a series of ads to run opposite ours in the papers. According to Silverstein, they’ve dug up some highly unsavory material about your background in Chicago when you were a kid. I don’t know what it is, but evidently they’ve got it documented to the point where they feel they can run it in their ad without risking a libel suit. It won’t exactly help inspire confidence in us or our Heggins tender offer. And NCI’s starting to line up proxy-soliciting firms.”
“We’ll line up our own.”
“Let me finish, Mace. The whole thing’s out of hand. Sure, we’ll pick up a few blocks of NCI from the greedy ones who only see the instant profit we’re offering them, but the big boys, the institutions, they’ll hang back. We’re not going to get anywhere near buying control of NCI with the Heggins operation. At a horseback guess, I’d say you won’t end up with more than twenty-five percent of the outstanding. It means you’ve got to go out and buy another twenty-six percent for cash. You haven’t got that kind of cash. Do you know how much it would take?”
“Six or seven hundred million, assuming I’d have to pay the whole thing in cash with no margin.”
“The minute it starts to slide, you won’t find anybody willing to give you a margin. You know that.”
“That’s why I said it, Sidney. On the safe side we can figure seven hundred million. I already told you I’m prepared to put up three hundred million myself.”
“Leaving a slight gap,” Isher said. “Don’t look at me, Mace, I haven’t got that kind of investment capital. I’m lucky if I can scrape up fifty grand to speculate with.”
Villiers said, “I haven’t asked either of you to risk a dime in this. I’ll raise the cash-within twenty-four hours if I have to.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Isher said. “I know, I’m always saying it can’t be done, and you’re always proving me wrong, but this time you’re talking about four hundred million dollars and I’m saying it can’t be done. I’m saying it loud and clear. Now convince me I’m wrong.”
“I’ll convince you by showing you the money. Tomorrow morning you’ll-”
The phone interrupted him. Hackman picked it up and listened briefly, said, “Thank you,” in an odd tone of voice, and hung up. He looked at Villiers. “Ten minutes ago.”
Elliot Judd was dead.
Villiers said, “All right. You both know what has to be done. Activate your orders the minute the market opens.” He looked at his watch. “Four minutes to go.”
Isher said, “It’s brutal, Mace-the man’s just died!”
“He’s been dead for months. I won’t weep for him.”
They sat in uneasy silence until the ticker started. Hackman was instantly on the phone, barking orders; Isher was glued to the Quotron.
After a time Isher said, “I don’t see any quote on NCI at all. But the whole damn market’s sliding a little. Have you got a newswire somewhere, George? Maybe the news already got through-but that’s damn fast work on somebody’s part. We should have had a couple of hours.”
Hackman closed his palm over the telephone mouthpiece and said dismally, “That’s it. They’ve suspended.”
“What?” Villiers, for the first time, displayed alarm on his face.
Hackman said, “There was an emergency meeting of the board of governors of the Stock Exchange at eight this morning. They voted to suspend trading in NCI common.”
“Then that’s it,” Isher said. “God knows when they’ll reopen it for trading. Your margin factors will call their loans any minute now. You’ve got to pay off and raise more cash someplace else. You’re all through, Mace, can’t you see it? The NCI deal is finished. You’ve got no more credit. You’ve got to pull out-all the way out. You’ll be lucky to save enough for a bus ticket back to Montreal.”
“I don’t like your tone,” Villiers said, his voice gritting. ’Remember this, Sidney-if anything happens to me, it happens to you, too. Don’t be in a hurry to pull the gangplank-you may want to get back on board.”
The phone rang again; Hackman snatched it up and barked. Then he made a face. “For you, Mace.”
Villiers took the receiver. “Yes? What is it?”
“Mr Villiers? Harold Ward, here, in Montreal. I’m Salvatore Senna’s attorney. The Canadian securities police have raided Mr. Senna’s brokerage office. He asked me to call you-the entire staff is in custody pending the setting of bail.”
“Thanks. I’ll get back to you.”
He hung up and sat down and said in a dead-flat monotone, “They’ve raided our Montreal room. They won’t find much to tie me into it, but they’ll keep it closed down for a while.”
“There goes your last source of quick cash,” Isher said. “Get out, Mace. Get out, can’t you see it yet?”
Villiers was slightly pale; but his jaw crept forward to lie in a long, hard line, and he said, “Don’t make any funeral arrangements until you’re sure you’ve got a corpse, Sidney. My God, any man who loses his cool in this business should never have got into it in the first place. Finance is no place for a nervous loser. If you’re that scared, you’re in the wrong game.”
“Even a fool knows enough to quit when he’s got no chips left to play with.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve still got a good chance. They’ve suspended trading on the Exchange, but they can’t suspend trading over the counter. They can’t stop us from going right ahead with the Heggins tender exchange. For that matter, it should be twice as attractive to NCI stockholders now-their only chance to unload at a profit, because the Big Board has to resume trading sometime, and when they do, NCI will open a good spread below where it closed last Friday. The whole world knows that much. We’re offering to bail them out, we’re giving them an opportunity they’ve got to snap up.”
Isher just watched him morosely, winking and hacking. In the end he said, “The little ones will grab it, the twenty-five percent. But the institutions will hang on, Mace. They know it’ll go back up to where it was before-as long as you don’t get your hands on it. None of them will sell one lousy share to you, Mace, not for double the price in Heggins convertibles.”
George Hackman averted his beefy red face. “He’s right, Mace. I hate to admit it, but this time he’s right. Cut your losses, buddy. Quit while you’re ahead.”
“I’ll quit,” Villiers replied, “when I get ahead.” His face was tight, a stern mask of arrogance, giving away nothing at all of the furious anxiety inside. There was still a chance-a long shot. With far more confidence than he owned, he snapped, “The twenty-five percent is all I need. I’ll buy the rest for cash.”
“Whose cash?” Isher demanded.
Villiers walked with careful, even strides to the door. “By this time tomorrow,” he said, “it’ll be mine.” And went.