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My heart sinks; that’s Justin’s bank.
Evan says, “No.” But then looking at me he corrects, “Maybe.”
“Well, they’ve been buying shares since the markets opened this morning.”
“How much have they accumulated?”
“Hard to say, but it could be anywhere between 28 and 30 per cent.”
The number is so high that neither Evan nor I know how to respond. My ex now owns as many shares of Bloominghale as I do? If he gets his paws on Cheney’s 21 per cent, Justin I’m-going-to-eviscerate-him Trémaux will gain control of my company.
“There’s also another big player involved,” the banker continues. “But they were a little better at covering their tracks, so we haven’t been able to trace it back to an exact entity yet.”
“How much do they have?”
“Again, hard to tell with precision, but anywhere between 4 and 7 per cent.”
Compared to Justin’s grab, that seems like small change now, but it’s not negligible. “Can you trace the trades back to someone?”
“Give me time.”
“Thank you, Josh; please call us back the moment you know more.”
Tilly walks into the office then. My phone is off and I’ve told her to screen all my calls unless it’s Cheney.
“I have Cheney on hold,” she says.
“Well, put him through; what are you waiting for?”
She hesitates. “Gabriel called again, he said it was urgent. It’s the tenth time today.”
“And I already told you I’ll call him later. Put Cheney through, please.”
“Yes, right away.”
The red light on my landline flashes red, and I pick up the receiver. “Tom, great to hear back from you.”
“Hi, Blake.” The tone is that of someone who has lousy news to deliver. “Listen, I’ll cut straight to the chase. Someone has made me an offer I can’t refuse and I’m going to sell my shares to them.”
“Your shares are in lockup for 180 days after the initial offering unless you sell them back to me at our pre-negotiated premium.”
“A premium that’s now a good fifteen dollars below market value.”
“There is no value if you can’t sell.”
“My shares are locked only if the value stays below thirty-five, which at the pace things are going, it doesn’t look like it will.”
While Tom explains the obvious to me, I watch as Evan leaves the office to pick up his phone.
“Things can change fast.” In a last-ditch effort to make Cheney reconsider, I make empty threats we both know have no bite. “I can withdraw my offer at any moment. Sell to me now and you will have made a clean profit.”
“Sorry, kiddo, I’m going to take my chances with the free market. This is still America after all.”
Gritting my teeth, I give him the politest answer I can muster. “Thank you for being straightforward with me, Tom, much appreciated.”
I hang up and look at Evan, who has come back into the office and is looking at me like he’s about to tell me my dog died or something. Good thing I don’t have a dog.
“Out with it,” I say. “At this point, it can’t get any worse.”
