Throughout the entire meeting, one man, Peter Vanderwild, remained silent and attentive, like a brilliant, slightly awed graduate student who understood all the basics—but who was learning the finer points from a group of experts. At twenty-eight, Peter was a former Harvard "whiz kid" with a genius I.Q., who specialized in reviewing companies for Intercorp to acquire, analyzing their potential for profit, and then making his recommendations to Matt. Haskell Electronics had been one of Vanderwild's choices, and it was going to be his third winner in a row. Matt had sent him here to Chicago with the rest of the team because he wanted Peter to experience firsthand what happened after a company was acquired. He wanted him to observe what could not be seen on the financial statements that Peter relied on so heavily when he made his recommendations to buy a company—like controllers who were lax about collecting money, and human resources directors who were closet bigots.
Matt had brought him there to observe and to be observed. Despite Peter's outstanding success thus far, Matt knew he still needed guidance. Moreover, he was cocky and hypersensitive, brash and timid, depending upon the situation, and that was something Matt intended to curb. He had a tremendous amount of raw talent; it needed channeling.
"Peter?" Matt said. "Any new developments in your area that we ought to hear about?"
"I have several possible companies in mind that would be excellent acquisitions," Peter announced. "They're not as big as Haskell but they're profitable. One of them is a nice little computer software company in silicon valley—"
"No software companies, Peter," Matt said firmly.
"But JLH is—"
"No software companies!" Matt interrupted. "They're too damned risky right now." He saw the embarrassed flush creep up Vanderwild's neck. Reminding himself that his goal was to direct the younger man's enormous talents, not to crush his enthusiasm, Matt curbed his impatience and added, "It's no reflection on you, Peter. I've never told you my feelings about software companies. What else do you want to recommend?"
"You mentioned you wanted to expand our commercial property division," Peter said hesitantly. "There is a company in Atlanta, another here in Chicago, and a third one down in Houston. All three are looking for someone to buy them out. The first two own mostly high- and mid-rise office buildings. The third one, in Houston, is predominantly invested in commercial land. It's a family-owned company and the two Thorp brothers, who've run it since their father died a few years ago, reportedly can't stand each other." Still flinching from Matt's swift rejection of his last recommendation, Peter hastened to point out the drawbacks of this one. "Houston has been in a long slump, and I suppose there's no reason to assume its recent recovery will continue. Also, since the Thorp brothers can't agree on anything, the deal would probably cause us more trouble than it's worth—"
"Are you trying to convince me it's a good idea or a bad one?" Matt asked with a smile to atone for his earlier curtness. "You make the choices based on your best judgment, and I'll shoot them down for you. That's my job, and if you start doing my job plus your own, I won't have anything to do. I'll feel useless."
Chuckles greeted that joking remark and, getting up, Peter handed him a folder labeled recommended acquisitions/commercial property companies. In it were data sheets on the three companies he'd mentioned, and a dozen other, less appealing ones. More relaxed now, he sat back down.
Matt opened the file and saw that the dossiers were long and Peter's analyses were very complex. Rather than detain the other men needlessly, he said, "Peter has been his usual thorough self, gentlemen, and this file is going to take considerable time to go over. I think we've covered everything that needs to be discussed for now. I'll meet with each of you next week. Let Miss Stern know when you're ready to go over your individual divisions in more detail." To Peter he said, "Let's go over this in my office."
He'd just sat down at his desk when his intercom buzzed, and Miss Stern told him that his Brussels call was coming through. With the phone cradled between his shoulder and jaw, Matt began looking over the financial statement of the Atlanta company Peter had recommended.
"Matt," Josef Hendrik said, his delighted voice rising above the static on the line, "we have a bad connection, my friend, but my excellent news cannot wait for a better one. My people here are in full accord with the limited partnership I proposed to you last month. They offered no opposition to any of the stipulations you made."
"That's fine, Josef," Matt replied, but his enthusiasm was somewhat dampened by jet lag and the realization that it was much later than he'd thought. Beyond the broad expanse of windows at the outer wall of his office, the sky was shrouded in darkness and lights were twinkling in the adjoining skyscrapers. Far below on Michigan Avenue, he could hear car horns honking as commuters sat in snarled rush hour traffic, trying to fight their way home. Reaching toward the lamp on his desk, Matt switched it on, then he glanced at Peter, who got up and turned the overhead lights up as well. "It's later than I thought, Peter, and I still have several phone calls to make. I'll take this file home and look through it over the weekend. We'll discuss it Monday morning at ten o'clock."
Chapter 17
Refreshed from a sauna and shower, Matt wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for the wristwatch lying on the black marble vanity that swept around his circular bathroom. The telephone rang, and he picked it up.
"Are you naked?" Alicia Avery's sultry voice asked before he'd said a word.
"What number are you calling?" he said with feigned confusion.
"Yours, darling. Are you naked?"
"Semi-naked," Matt said, "and running late."
"I'm so glad you're finally in Chicago. When did you get in?"
"Yesterday."
"I have you in my clutches at last!" She laughed, an enticing, contagious laugh. "You can't believe the fantasies I've been having, thinking about tonight when we get back from the opera's benefit ball. I've missed you, Matt," she added, blunt and direct as always.
"We're going to see each other in an hour," Matt promised, "if you let me get off the phone, that is."
"All right. Actually, Daddy made me call. He was afraid you'd forget about the opera benefit tonight. He's almost as eager to see you as I am—for very different reasons, of course."
"Of course," Matt joked.
Matt had brought him there to observe and to be observed. Despite Peter's outstanding success thus far, Matt knew he still needed guidance. Moreover, he was cocky and hypersensitive, brash and timid, depending upon the situation, and that was something Matt intended to curb. He had a tremendous amount of raw talent; it needed channeling.
"Peter?" Matt said. "Any new developments in your area that we ought to hear about?"
"I have several possible companies in mind that would be excellent acquisitions," Peter announced. "They're not as big as Haskell but they're profitable. One of them is a nice little computer software company in silicon valley—"
"No software companies, Peter," Matt said firmly.
"But JLH is—"
"No software companies!" Matt interrupted. "They're too damned risky right now." He saw the embarrassed flush creep up Vanderwild's neck. Reminding himself that his goal was to direct the younger man's enormous talents, not to crush his enthusiasm, Matt curbed his impatience and added, "It's no reflection on you, Peter. I've never told you my feelings about software companies. What else do you want to recommend?"
"You mentioned you wanted to expand our commercial property division," Peter said hesitantly. "There is a company in Atlanta, another here in Chicago, and a third one down in Houston. All three are looking for someone to buy them out. The first two own mostly high- and mid-rise office buildings. The third one, in Houston, is predominantly invested in commercial land. It's a family-owned company and the two Thorp brothers, who've run it since their father died a few years ago, reportedly can't stand each other." Still flinching from Matt's swift rejection of his last recommendation, Peter hastened to point out the drawbacks of this one. "Houston has been in a long slump, and I suppose there's no reason to assume its recent recovery will continue. Also, since the Thorp brothers can't agree on anything, the deal would probably cause us more trouble than it's worth—"
"Are you trying to convince me it's a good idea or a bad one?" Matt asked with a smile to atone for his earlier curtness. "You make the choices based on your best judgment, and I'll shoot them down for you. That's my job, and if you start doing my job plus your own, I won't have anything to do. I'll feel useless."
Chuckles greeted that joking remark and, getting up, Peter handed him a folder labeled recommended acquisitions/commercial property companies. In it were data sheets on the three companies he'd mentioned, and a dozen other, less appealing ones. More relaxed now, he sat back down.
Matt opened the file and saw that the dossiers were long and Peter's analyses were very complex. Rather than detain the other men needlessly, he said, "Peter has been his usual thorough self, gentlemen, and this file is going to take considerable time to go over. I think we've covered everything that needs to be discussed for now. I'll meet with each of you next week. Let Miss Stern know when you're ready to go over your individual divisions in more detail." To Peter he said, "Let's go over this in my office."
He'd just sat down at his desk when his intercom buzzed, and Miss Stern told him that his Brussels call was coming through. With the phone cradled between his shoulder and jaw, Matt began looking over the financial statement of the Atlanta company Peter had recommended.
"Matt," Josef Hendrik said, his delighted voice rising above the static on the line, "we have a bad connection, my friend, but my excellent news cannot wait for a better one. My people here are in full accord with the limited partnership I proposed to you last month. They offered no opposition to any of the stipulations you made."
"That's fine, Josef," Matt replied, but his enthusiasm was somewhat dampened by jet lag and the realization that it was much later than he'd thought. Beyond the broad expanse of windows at the outer wall of his office, the sky was shrouded in darkness and lights were twinkling in the adjoining skyscrapers. Far below on Michigan Avenue, he could hear car horns honking as commuters sat in snarled rush hour traffic, trying to fight their way home. Reaching toward the lamp on his desk, Matt switched it on, then he glanced at Peter, who got up and turned the overhead lights up as well. "It's later than I thought, Peter, and I still have several phone calls to make. I'll take this file home and look through it over the weekend. We'll discuss it Monday morning at ten o'clock."
Chapter 17
Refreshed from a sauna and shower, Matt wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for the wristwatch lying on the black marble vanity that swept around his circular bathroom. The telephone rang, and he picked it up.
"Are you naked?" Alicia Avery's sultry voice asked before he'd said a word.
"What number are you calling?" he said with feigned confusion.
"Yours, darling. Are you naked?"
"Semi-naked," Matt said, "and running late."
"I'm so glad you're finally in Chicago. When did you get in?"
"Yesterday."
"I have you in my clutches at last!" She laughed, an enticing, contagious laugh. "You can't believe the fantasies I've been having, thinking about tonight when we get back from the opera's benefit ball. I've missed you, Matt," she added, blunt and direct as always.
"We're going to see each other in an hour," Matt promised, "if you let me get off the phone, that is."
"All right. Actually, Daddy made me call. He was afraid you'd forget about the opera benefit tonight. He's almost as eager to see you as I am—for very different reasons, of course."
"Of course," Matt joked.
