Alex checked the time nervously. She had only seven minutes left to finish bugging Conference Room 501. Audio was the easiest one to place. With video, she still struggled. Finding the right spot for the tiny camera, installing the receiver at a close enough distance, yet in a secure spot, and doing all that without being seen through the conference room's glass walls — that was the challenge.
The conference room had a small closet with wooden doors made of narrow wooden segments installed under an angle, imitating window blinds. That closet was going to be secure enough to house the receiver. The doors provided the needed privacy; the wooden blinds were at an angle that allowed a person to see from the inside out, not the other way. It was a safe bet for Alex to assume that no one would have any business opening that closet; this was not going to be a conference call or a video conference. Just a conversation among five people.
Her mind was made up, so she opened the closet and looked for a good place to put the wireless video receiver. She reached up and put it on top of the video conferencing equipment.
Just as she was preparing to get out and close the doors, she heard voices. Griffiths and Kramer were early, heading into the conference room. Out of options, she pulled the closet doors shut and went as far back as she could, leaning against the AV equipment rack, hoping no one would hear her breathe.
"I came home last night and my kid tells me she won't go to college, unless she gets an apartment off campus. Can you believe it?" Kramer was half-frustrated, half-amused. "In my day, we were happy to go to college at all, and if I would have dared set terms with my parents like that, I would have been grounded forever."
"Different times, I'm afraid," Chandler said, "I'm amazed at how these things evolve. My boy is fifteen now and overheard me talking to my wife about trading in my Jeep. He came and literally told me that I can't do that, since he'd be turning sixteen in under a year and he'll be taking the Jeep!" They both laughed the sweet laugh of loving parents.
One by one, the rest of the meeting attendees were arriving. Alex could see out through a sliver in the wooden slats. Angela Prescott looked like she came to showcase a fashion show. Her dark gray business suit was impeccable, coordinated with her shoes and blouse in a shiny shade of light blue gray. Sheppard came in dressed in black, as usual, managed a faint smile and a whispered "hello." He sat quietly, not participating in the casual conversations. Walker, last to arrive, closed the door behind him and sat down.
"Thanks for joining me this morning on such short notice. I think we need to figure out what we are going to do to prepare for Barnaby's stock sale and the subsequent change in company leadership. First, I want to ask you if you are planning to purchase any stock. Are we at least going to attempt to gain control of NanoLance?" Walker's scrutinizing eyes went around the table, inviting everyone to respond.
"Before putting all my money into this," Kramer said, "I'd be curious to see where the Florida incident inquiry leads. How confident are we that the result of that inquiry will not destroy the company?"
"I don't think that any of us is able to gauge that at this time." The hissing voice of Dustin Sheppard came to life. "Like with everything else regarding stock speculation, there's an associated risk. If we have the intention to purchase significant amounts of stock, we should be prepared to make a commitment and negotiate pre-emptive, discounted rates with Barnaby. That requires, according to SEC regulations, that we're ready to make that commitment no later than mid-October. We might not be able to foresee if the inquiry will be over by that time or what the outcome will be. It's a risk we have to take."
"Before we get ahead of ourselves," Kramer said, "let's examine if we have the possibility to even think about obtaining control of the company among ourselves. After all, we're talking about a company with a market capitalization of 1.3 billion dollars, and I, personally, don't sit on comparable amounts of cash. I'd suggest we add up what we already have, and figure out if we should even be thinking about this in the first place. I'll do the math," she said, taking her pen and a sheet of paper out of her portfolio.
Walker frowned and fidgeted. No one spoke.
"OK, I'll start," Kramer offered. "I own 3.7 percent, a little over 330,000 shares." She wrote the numbers down.
"I have 2.6 percent; that is 230,000 shares and some change," Griffiths said.
Kramer neatly wrote the numbers.
"I've got 3.2 percent here," Prescott raised her hand, "which is 290,000 shares or about there."
Walker and Sheppard looked at each other, in a standoffish manner.
"Write me down with 5.16 percent," Sheppard whispered, "for 475,000 shares."
"When did you pass the 5 percent mark?" Walker blurted. "I haven't seen you listed."
"Last quarter," Sheppard said, undisturbed.
"Add my 4.5 percent, and let's see where we are," Walker said. "with 400,000 shares and some change."
"OK, let's see," Kramer said, pulling a small calculator out of her portfolio. "So, between the five of us, we own 19.16 percent of the total outstanding shares. If we are to obtain control, we need to acquire almost 31 percent, or nearly 2,800,000 shares. Considering today's trading price per share, that leaves us with a need for a little over $250,000,000. And that's a lot of money."
"Then there's another issue," Prescott said, "what makes us think that Barnaby is going to sell at least that many shares? He could be selling only 25 percent, or less. He definitely doesn't want to sell all his stock, and, for sure, he doesn't need to. Do we know anything about his intentions?"
"He owns 53 percent," Sheppard said, "and I heard him say he'd be looking at selling at least half of that. Close… Not sure if it's close enough, though."
"If we're missing a few points we can always go on the stock market and get what we're missing, right?" Walker encouraged everyone.
"Let's talk money," Kramer said, "who's got how much? I could raise 20, maybe 23 million dollars."
Alex watched in bewilderment, breathing silently and careful not to make even the tiniest move. I had no idea these people were so loaded, she thought. Maybe that explains the arrogance.
"I could potentially come up with 16," Griffiths said, with an apologetic tone. "I don't think I can raise a penny more."
"Maybe 30 here," Sheppard said, "only if I liquidate every investment I have, outside of NanoLance shares."
"Angela?" Walker asked.
"Only 20, maybe 22, with difficulty," Prescott said.
"And I can bring in 42," Walker concluded. "Where does that leave us?"
"That puts us at $133,000,000. That's a little over half of what we need to have."
Silence dropped in the room and lingered for a few seconds.
"As of now," Walker said.
"What do you mean?" Kramer looked straight at him.
"At the current trading price, right? You used today's stock price for your calculations, right?"
"Yes, I did, but what—"
"Well, who's to say that the stock price won't continue to drop? Especially in the aftermath of the current Florida incident, plus the upcoming investigation — that's gotta do something to the stock price, right?"
"Safe to say it will do significant damage," Angela Prescott agreed.
"Yes, but will it be enough?" Walker pressed on. "You see, we need the stock price to drop enough to allow us to gain control, but not much lower than that, so we can restore the company after we've purchased enough stock."
"What are you thinking?" Griffiths asked.
"Nothing much, just saying…" Walker backed away.
Damn it to hell, he's so close to tipping his hand, Alex thought. She now believed, without a doubt, that Walker was behind the stock price pressures. She also had suspicions about Sheppard, but his attitude, regardless of how unbearable, was not showing any sign of involvement. As for the rest, Alex couldn't tell if they were in on this or not. Walker could have been working on these plans on his own and just manipulating the others into supporting him.