The fourth order 2007, p.7
The Fourth Order (2007), page 7
"Probably not. Again, I'd have to check, but in most states, once you get a majority, even if it's just fifty-one percent, it's a done deal. People who decided not to tender their shares don't have a choice at that point. They get the cash they would have gotten if they'd tendered their shares and that's that."
"Damn it. Well, didn't we build all that poison pill stuff into CIS's by-laws and charter? A staggered board, golden parachutes--"
"We did," Klein interrupted, "but the bottom line is that most of the time all that stuff doesn't really amount to a hill of beans. Besides, Rose knows how to get around it. He and his sidekick David Cortez have made, like, eleven or twelve acquisitions over the past five years. They know the ins and outs of this crap as well as anyone in the game right now. I looked at all the poison pills the companies Rose bought over the last five years had in place before he made the acquisitions, and he's been able to blow them apart in a couple of weeks after taking over. Most times his strategy is a classic bear hug. He makes his first offer one he knows the shareholders will love so that if the board even starts whispering about turning it down, about fighting him off, they get death threats."
Beck felt his heart rate ratchet up a few notches, unable to decide if it was the yellow pills or panic. He hated being outmaneuvered. But, just as Bill Granger had warned, Rose was turning out to be quite an adversary. Too bad he wasn't on their side. Maybe, now that Beck thought about it, they could change that. Maybe they could make him see the error of his ways. Wouldn't that be something?
"I thought we had enough CIS stock parked with friends that this wasn't going to be a problem," Klein spoke up.
Beck didn't feel like rehashing his conversation with Granger. "Names and faces change," he growled. "And, like you said, if the offer's high enough, shareholders fold even if they are supposed to be our friends." He spat. "Money changes everything."
Klein raised an eyebrow. "Seems like we should have hidden Spyder and the bases in a privately held company where we'd never have had to worry about a hostile takeover."
There it was again, Klein's penchant for pointing out failures. "Seems like you ought to--" Beck caught himself in the nick of time. Infighting wouldn't do anyone any good at this point. "There weren't any privately held companies that could handle what we needed, especially with Spyder. They didn't have all the foreign offices. And Bill Granger is as loyal as they come. Which is more important than anything."
"Maybe we should have bought CIS a few years ago, through one of the trusts."
It was all Beck could do not to explode. "Tom, I'm not going to sit here and listen to you second-guess me, damn it."
"Sorry," Klein said quietly.
Klein had finally realized he'd gone too far, Beck could see. But, God, sometimes it took him forever to catch on. "Michael Rose cannot acquire CIS," Beck said, his voice shaking. "Tom, I want you on the phone with our friend as soon as it's light out. I want him in touch with the other board members all morning, telling them that they can't give Rose the okay to move forward. We have to do everything in our power, short of killing him, to make certain Rose doesn't get CIS."
Klein looked up. "Maybe we should kill him. Maybe that's the answer."
Beck gazed at Klein for a few moments, then glanced out the window into the darkness. Like an animal, Klein was starting to like the taste of blood.
No good.
** Chapter 16
"KAT."
She was vaguely aware of fingers touching her shoulder.
"Kat."
She moaned, coming to consciousness. She'd been dreaming about having a romantic dinner with an older man who really seemed to care for her.
"Kat!"
"What? Jesus, what?" Katherine Hanson sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. First light was streaming into the room from around the edges of the blinds she'd pulled down before climbing into bed last night-- alone for the third time in four nights. She hated the way their bedroom faced southeast, directly at the morning sun this time of year. Hated the fact that Joey wouldn't let her buy curtains to go around the blinds because he was too cheap. "What do you want?" She knew what he wanted. What he always wanted in the morning.
Joey slid into bed behind her, pressing himself against her. "I miss you."
"Then why'd you sleep on the couch again last night?" she asked, yawning.
"I'm sorry. I was watching the Comedy Channel. Dice Clay was on. I haven't seen that one in a long time. He's a funny fucker."
She dropped her head back down on the pillow, moving away from him. "Great."
"Let's make love."
"Please let me sleep," she begged. She'd anticipated this. "I've got to pull a double today." She was a bartender at Clyde's Restaurant in Georgetown-- a historic district just west of downtown Washington that was known for its shopping and dining. "Lunch and dinner."
"Oh, come on. Please."
"No!" she snapped, pulling away. "Get off me."
He reached out for her shoulder. "Hey, what's your problem?"
"My problem?" She pried his hand off her, jumped out of bed then spun back around so she was facing him, hands on her hips. "My problem?" She was fed up with him. "You sleep on the couch all night, then crawl up here at six in the morning because you want sex. Then you go back to sleep until two in the afternoon while I go out and work so we can eat because you can't hold down a job for more than a couple of months." She'd seen that look in Michael Rose's eyes last night at the restaurant when Joey had appeared out of nowhere behind her, and it was haunting her. A look that told her Rose couldn't believe she was married to such a loser. A look she'd seen many times before but had paid no attention to up until now because she really loved Joey. For the first time she understood what everyone had been trying to tell her since even before she'd married the guy last year. He was a loser. "The worst part is that you'll sit here all afternoon glued to the computer looking at porn while I'm out there slinging drinks."
"You're right, baby," Joey said softly, patting the mattress. "I'll get another job soon, I promise. There's plenty of real estate agencies I can talk to. I'll have a desk and a phone in a week. Guarantee it. Now, come back to bed."
She shut her eyes tightly and crossed her arms over her breasts. Thank God they didn't have children. That would make it so much harder to leave him. "Go back downstairs, will you?"
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, his demeanor souring. "Did you go back into Morton's last night and give that guy your number? That guy you were talking to at the door?"
They'd driven separate cars to dinner-- she was coming out from the city after working the lunch shift at Clyde's, he was coming into McLean from their townhouse in Manassas, another twenty miles west. That had given her the opportunity to go back into the restaurant without Joey knowing. After she'd kissed him at his car and said she couldn't wait to get home with him, she'd hurried back into the bar, found Rose and given him her number. Then she'd raced home at eighty miles an hour, dodging traffic all the way, managing to make it in the door of their townhouse just a few minutes after Joey had. He'd given her a suspicious look from the couch, but hadn't asked any questions.
"Of course not. I didn't go back in."
"I saw the way you were looking at him."
She'd spotted Rose across the bar at Morton's before he'd spotted her, which was unusual. Usually men spotted her first. It wasn't that she was stuck up about her looks, that was just how it usually happened. She caught men staring at her all the time, and she knew she made herself easier to spot because of the way she dressed-- little skirts and tops. But she liked showing off her body, she worked hard to stay in shape. Truth be known, more and more she was enjoying the looks other men were giving her.
A few seconds later she'd seen Rose glance at her out of the corner of her eye while she flirted with the two young professionals. Then she'd given him the stare, and she'd known immediately that he was interested. She'd loved how cool he was later when they'd run into each other in the doorway.
"You're crazy."
"Oh yeah?" Joey climbed out of bed and looked around for a moment, then spotted her purse lying on a chair near the closet. He sprinted to it, rooted through it quickly, and yanked her cell phone out. "Why's it turned off?" he demanded, flipping it on. "And why's your purse up here? You always keep it downstairs."
She caught her breath. Christ, if Rose had called, all hell would break loose. She took a step toward Joey, then held up.
"What's the matter?" He'd seen her subtle move. "Worried I'll find something?"
"No."
The phone beeped several times, indicating that there were new voice mails.
She watched him scroll through her missed calls screen, checking the numbers. "Joey, I--"
"You're lucky this time," he said, teeth clenched, "just your friends." He tossed the phone back down in her purse. "Why'd you turn it off last night? You never turn it off."
"I was tired and Margie's been calling me all the--"
"And you brought your purse up here last night," he said again. "Usually you leave it downstairs. Why'd you do that?"
"I don't know, I just--"
"Why'd you take a step toward me just then? You worried he might have called back?"
"No!" she shouted. "I'm sick of you spying on me all the time. That's all."
"I have to spy on you," he retorted. "You're always flirting with other men."
She groaned. "You're a jerk. Don't be so immature. I never flirt with anyone."
"What about those two guys who were all over you when I got to the bar last night?" he said, moving toward her.
"I was just talking to them."
"Didn't look like just talk to me. The guy in the red tie had his hand on your leg when I got there."
He was directly in front of her now, his face inches from hers. "You're such an ass," she muttered.
"What did you say to me?"
"I said, you're such an ass! Leave me alone."
He stared at her hard for several moments, eyes bugging out, then finally stalked out of the room.
As she listened to him pad heavily down the stairs, her shoulders slumped in relief. She'd never seen that kind of rage in his eyes before.
** Chapter 17
WHEN ROSE CAME IN THE BACK door through the garage, Jamie and Glenn were sitting close together on the couch in the family room-- he'd called to tell Trudy he was only a few minutes away so the kids would be ready. But he hadn't said anything else to her. Jamie was clutching an old teddy bear Rose didn't even know she had anymore, and Glenn was simply staring straight ahead, glasses perched at the end of his nose.
Rose walked to where they sat and knelt down, putting a hand on each of their knees. "Where's Trudy?"
Jamie sniffed. "Upstairs."
Trudy must have heard it in his voice, Rose realized. And she probably felt uncomfortable about being with them when he broke the news, understanding that it was something for the family to deal with alone. She'd only lived with them for a few months.
Rose swallowed hard, then looked up into their faces. Both of them were staring down at him expectantly, eyes wide open, not blinking. "Kids, I've got something bad to tell--"
Jamie leaped up off the couch and raced for the stairs before he could finish.
"Munch-- Honey. Stop!" He glanced at Glenn. There were already tears rolling down both of the boy's cheeks.
"Go ahead, Dad," Glenn mumbled. "Go after her. She needs you."
Rose took the boy's face in both hands and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back. We'll talk. Okay?"
Glenn nodded.
"You're really growing up, son."
"Uh-huh."
Rose jogged to the stairs, then took them three at a time. Jamie's door was locked when he reached it. "Open up, sweetheart," he said loudly, banging on the door. "Open up!" Trudy's room was just down the hall and Rose saw the door crack open. "Trudy?"
The door opened wider and the young woman stuck her head out. "Yes, Mr. Rose?"
"Will you go downstairs and make sure Glenn's okay?" he asked as she moved toward him. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Sheila died in a car accident tonight."
Trudy's gaze dropped to the hall carpet and her lips began to tremble.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you like this, but I..." His voice faded.
"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm so sorry." She gave him a hug, then headed down the steps.
Rose watched her go. She was a nice kid. He turned and rapped on Jamie's door again. "Jamie. Honey, come on." He could hear her sobbing inside. He grabbed the knob with both hands and twisted hard, but it didn't give. He reached up and ran his fingers along the molding above the door, searching for the wire he'd put up there last time she'd done this. He found it, pulled it down, inserted it in the small hole of the knob, pushed and twisted the knob hard. This time it turned and the door gave way.
Jamie was on her four-poster queen-sized bed, facedown in a sea of pillows. Rose moved to where she lay, sat down beside her and massaged her shoulder gently. "Sweetheart, let me try to help you with what you're--"
"Don't touch me," she cried.
Rose pulled back. "Jamie, I know this is terrible, but let's deal with it together," he urged softly, rubbing her shoulder again. "Let's deal with it as a family."
"I told you not to touch me," she snapped.
"What's wrong with you?" Rose demanded. "Why are you treating me like this?"
She sat up on the bed, tears streaming down her face. "If you'd just been there for Mom, she'd be alive. It's your fault, Daddy. It's your fault she's dead!"
** Chapter 18
"MICHAEL?"
Rose looked up from behind the desk of his spacious office at Trafalgar. It was a corner office on the twenty-seventh floor-- the top floor-- of the tallest building in McLean. From it he had a gorgeous, panoramic view of the sun-splashed winter morning, Washington, DC, off in the distance to the east. But he couldn't have cared less right now. He was so tired he could hardly focus on the memo he was trying to read, forget enjoying a view, and so wrung out from what Jamie had said a few hours ago. It seemed like that had hit him even harder than Sheila's death.
"Hi, Tammy," he said quietly to the woman leaning into his office. "Come on in. Close the door, will you?"
Tammy Sable was vice president in charge of corporate communications at Trafalgar. The one responsible for handling all the details of the tender offer Trafalgar would make for CIS once the board gave its approval to go ahead with the acquisition. She would coordinate with the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times on the huge announcements that would run in each newspaper. She would demand the complete CIS ownership list from the company's registration agent so Trafalgar could solicit the stockholders. She would field questions from CIS stockholders once the tender offer material had been sent out.
Rose had hired Tammy from a competitor five years ago-- two weeks after he'd become CFO-- at twice her then-current salary because she had a reputation as being the best in the business at what she did. He knew he was going to be making acquisition after acquisition and he needed an ace in that position. She hadn't disappointed him.
"You all right, Michael?" she asked in a gentle tone as she sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "I hate to say this, but you look, well, awful."
Rose managed a half grin. "And you look as wonderful as ever."
Tammy was corporate all the way. She always wore a suit, the bottom of her skirt never falling above her knees, always wore a blouse buttoned up to her neck, always wore her hair up, and never wore pumps with heels that were more than two inches. She was attractive-- tall, blond, and slim-- but her facial features had a hard edge to them. As far as Rose was aware, she'd never been married, but that was all he really knew about her personal life. She was a workaholic-- always seemed to be here at the office when he was and always had an excuse for why she couldn't make company functions. She never came to the holiday party at the end of the year; never came to the Fourth of July party; always went home at night when Rose held the annual senior executive off-site at a cozy bed-and- breakfast in the mountains west of Washington, even though he reserved a nice room for her at the inn. There were rumors she was a lesbian, but he didn't care if she was or not. As far as he was concerned, what people did on their own time was their own business, as long as they didn't try to push their agendas on him.
"Are you all right?" she asked again.
Rose leaned back and closed his eyes. "Please keep this to yourself." She was going to find out soon enough anyway, and he didn't want her feeling like he didn't confide in her. Other than David Cortez, he was closer to Tammy than anyone else at Trafalgar.
She sat forward in the chair. "Of course. What is it?"
He gazed at her for a few moments before answering, making certain he could say this without breaking down. He didn't want her to see him like that. "My wife died in a car accident last night."
Tammy caught her breath and put her hands to her mouth. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed quietly. "What are you doing here?"
Jamie had asked him the same question an hour ago as he was leaving the house. Not with words, but with her expression. As he'd backed out of the garage, he'd seen her staring down from her bedroom window, a fierce, accusatory glare in her eyes. But maybe it wasn't that he was leaving them a few hours after telling them their mother had died that was the problem, he realized now. Maybe she really did think he was responsible for Sheila's death. Maybe that hadn't been a knee-jerk reaction as he'd hoped, her just striking out at whoever was around because she was so distraught. Maybe she'd actually been glad to see him go this morning.
He'd told Jamie and Glenn to stay home from school today. Asked Trudy to call both schools and tell them just that there had been a family emergency. Fortunately, the accident had been discovered too late last night for the story to run in any of today's local newspapers. At least the kids wouldn't have to deal with all the phone calls today. They'd have a little bit of time to deal with their grief privately.
"We have a board meeting," Rose spoke up.
