Items related to The Power Broker: A Novel
Exposing high-level governmental corruption, conspiracy, and murder has garnered plenty of attention for Christian Gillette, the young dynamo chairman of the famous New York private equity firm Everest Capital. Now the reputation he has built taking Everest to the top has been noticed beyond the boardrooms of high finance–by powerful people with potentially devastating agendas.
Christian’s own attention is on Las Vegas, where he means to stake out a piece of the action by opening a new casino and launching an NFL franchise. But Sin City didn’t get its nickname for nothing, and the mob soon makes it clear that Christian’s company will have to pay if it wants to play in the nation’s gaming capital. Christian has already taken on corporate pirates and cold-blooded assassins and lived to tell about it, but crossing the underworld could do more than just kill his brilliant career. It could crush his chance to fulfill his late father’s political legacy.
Dynamic U.S. senator Jesse Ford is the odds-on favorite to make history as the first black president. And the man he wants beside him in the red-hot race for the White House is Christian Gillette. But Samuel Hewitt, a Texas mogul with billions to burn, has another fate in mind for Christian: to be part of a shadow organization, powered by wealth and bound by dark secrets that has manipulated the course of American history for generations.
As the pieces of Hewitt’s plot fall into place, and a twisted chain of intrigue, treachery, blackmail, and death gets tighter and tighter, Christian realizes–maybe too late–that in a grudge match between kingmakers hell-bent on victory at all costs, he may be the last pawn sacrificed.
With The Power Broker, bestselling author Stephen Frey unleashes an ever-accelerating thriller that breaks the suspense barrier–and never stops.
Christian’s own attention is on Las Vegas, where he means to stake out a piece of the action by opening a new casino and launching an NFL franchise. But Sin City didn’t get its nickname for nothing, and the mob soon makes it clear that Christian’s company will have to pay if it wants to play in the nation’s gaming capital. Christian has already taken on corporate pirates and cold-blooded assassins and lived to tell about it, but crossing the underworld could do more than just kill his brilliant career. It could crush his chance to fulfill his late father’s political legacy.
Dynamic U.S. senator Jesse Ford is the odds-on favorite to make history as the first black president. And the man he wants beside him in the red-hot race for the White House is Christian Gillette. But Samuel Hewitt, a Texas mogul with billions to burn, has another fate in mind for Christian: to be part of a shadow organization, powered by wealth and bound by dark secrets that has manipulated the course of American history for generations.
As the pieces of Hewitt’s plot fall into place, and a twisted chain of intrigue, treachery, blackmail, and death gets tighter and tighter, Christian realizes–maybe too late–that in a grudge match between kingmakers hell-bent on victory at all costs, he may be the last pawn sacrificed.
With The Power Broker, bestselling author Stephen Frey unleashes an ever-accelerating thriller that breaks the suspense barrier–and never stops.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Stephen Frey is a managing director at a private equity firm. He previously worked in mergers and acquisitions at JP Morgan and as a vice president of corporate finance at an international bank in Manhattan. Frey is the bestselling author of The Protégé, The Chairman, Shadow Account, Silent Partner, The Day Trader, Trust Fund, The Insider, The Legacy, The Inner Sanctum, The Vulture Fund, and The Takeover. He lives in Florida.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
1
Christian Gillette sat on the balcony of his suite at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas, watching first light scale the craggy peaks in the distance. In a few hours tourists would be mobbing the casino on the ground floor. He hoped soon it would be his casino they’d be mobbing.
Christian ran Everest Capital, a Manhattan-based investment firm that owned thirty companies in a wide range of industries—smokestack to high-tech. The companies were all large, at least a billion in sales, and Christian chaired eighteen of them. He also chaired Central States Telecom and Satellite, a communications company in Chicago that Everest had taken public six months ago—after owning for three years. Everest had made four hundred million on the CST initial public offering—Christian had gotten twenty of that. Forty years old, he’d already made fifty times more than most people did in a lifetime, but it hadn’t gone to his head. Money was just money, and success could be fleeting.
He dialed Nigel Faraday’s cell number. Nigel was one of Everest’s five managing partners. There were sixty-four people at the firm, but, other than his assistant, Debbie, the five partners were Christian’s only direct reports. Beneath the partners was a burgeoning pyramid of managing directors, vice presidents, and associates, but he rarely dealt with them. Five years ago, he’d known everyone at Everest by name. He missed those days.
Nigel answered on the third ring. “Well, well, you gambling, Chris?” Nigel had lived in the United States for almost twenty years, but his British accent remained heavy. “Sitting in front of some one-armed bandit with your bucket of quarters?” He laughed. “Ah, the slot machine. Another wonderful contribution to mankind from you Americans. Right up there with rap music and the Big Mac.”
Playing the slots actually sounded like fun to Christian, if only for its pure simplicity, but there wasn’t time. It seemed like there never was anymore for things like that. “Hey, I don’t mind rap once in a while, and I don’t know why you, of all people, would bash the Big Mac. You’ve eaten your share.”
“Hey, chap, what I eat is my business.”
“Relax, chap, I’m just kidding.” Christian heard traffic in the background at the other end of the line—horns blaring, engines revving, tires skidding. “Where are you?”
“Walking down Park. Bit of a late start to the office this morning, I’m afraid.”
Nigel was huffing as he strode toward Everest’s Park Avenue headquarters. The Brit was thirty pounds overweight thanks to a steady diet of rocky road ice cream and those Big Macs. “Up late last night?” Christian asked. Nigel was fresh into a new relationship with a pretty brunette he’d met a few weeks ago. They were in the infatuation stage, calling each other five times a day and staying out late every night. “I don’t want that woman distracting you, no matter how wonderful she is.”
“Look, I—”
“No, no, I’m glad you’re finally enjoying yourself,” Christian broke in. Nigel had put in a lot of long days the last few years, taking care of administrative details so Christian could focus on the big picture. Nigel had been Mr. Inside so Christian could be Mr. Outside, and the formula worked. Both Forbes and Fortune had tabbed Everest Capital as one of the top investment firms. “Now, any updates?”
Dead air.
“Nigel?”
“Just one.”
Christian picked up something in Nigel’s tone, and a tiny alarm went off in his head. “What?”
“After you left for Vegas last night, I got an e-mail from Bob Galloway.”
Bob Galloway was the chief financial officer of CST. Despite being chairman of CST, Christian didn’t know Galloway well, just saw him for a few hours at quarterly board meetings. Nigel, on the other hand, knew Galloway very well. Though Nigel wasn’t technically a CST officer like Christian, he was Everest’s day-to-day person on the investment. The one at Everest who constantly kept up with how CST was doing. The one who knew CST’s financial staff and had been in charge of dealing directly with the lawyers and investment bankers during the IPO.
“Some woman from the Securities and Exchange Commission called Galloway yesterday,” Nigel explained.
Hearing from the SEC was like hearing from the IRS or the Grim Reaper: Safe bet it wasn’t good news. “What did she want?” Christian asked.
“She called to demand a meeting. Didn’t tell Galloway any more than that.”
“Okay, call Galloway as soon as we’re finished. Tell him to get back in touch with the SEC right away and find out what’s going on. Let me know as soon as you hear anything. And, Nigel?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure Galloway doesn’t mention this to anyone else at CST.”
“Sure, sure.”
Christian heard a trace of fear in Nigel’s tone. “It’ll be fine, pal. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m worried all right,” Nigel admitted.
“Being worried doesn’t help.”
“Sorry I’m human. I’m glad you can stay so cool about it, Chris, but those people scare the hell out of me. They can destroy anybody anytime. Remember that guy who got twenty years for telling his girlfriend he had a stock tip over the phone, when what he really said was he had a sock that was ripped?”
“What guy? I don’t remember that.”
“And with my accent,” Nigel continued, “I could see it happening to me.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh yeah? Ask the guys at Enron and MCI.”
“They got what they deserved.”
“You’ll be whistling a different tune when they bust into Everest and lead you and me out in shackles in front of the whole firm.”
Sometimes Nigel panicked too quickly. He didn’t have many faults, but hitting the eject button prematurely was one of them. “That call Galloway got was probably nothing, probably just some kind of follow-up on the IPO.”
“I hope so. Hey, what about the casino license?” Nigel asked, his voice growing stronger as he switched subjects. “Everything all right there? Opening day isn’t far off.”
Two years ago Everest Capital had won the National Football League’s new Las Vegas franchise and named it the Dice. They’d spent over seven hundred million for the team and a new stadium they were building east of the city. As part of the deal with the NFL, Christian had gotten permission to build a casino, also naming it the Dice. The casino was supposed to open the day of the team’s home opener, which was just a few months away. On top of the seven hundred million for the team and the stadium, Everest had forked out a billion on construction of the casino—which was almost finished. Now, at the last minute, the Nevada Gaming Commission was holding off on approving the operating license. What seemed like a dream come true a month ago was turning into a nightmare. Christian hadn’t told anyone else at the firm how bad the situa- tion was.
“We’ll get the license,” he assured Nigel. Trying to figure out what was going on with the license was Christian’s main reason for coming to Las Vegas. At two o’clock he was meeting with the chairman of the Gaming Commission. “Don’t sweat it.” Sometimes it seemed like he spent half his life convincing people there wasn’t any smoke and the other half putting out fires.
“You think the mob’s involved?” Nigel asked. “Think they’re holding the commission up for some last-minute dough?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here, to find out.”
“Didn’t we hire somebody in Vegas to take care of those things, to deal with the mob? Like most people out there do when they’re building something big. What’s his name?”
“Carmine Torino.” Christian had been trying to reach Torino for a week, but suddenly no one could find him. Until now the guy had never taken more than fifteen minutes to return his call. Torino had vanished into thin air.
“Yeah, right, Carmine Torino.”
“I’ve gotta go, Nigel. Ray Lancaster’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
Ray Lancaster was the Dice’s head coach and general manager. Christian had hired him away from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers last February. Nigel had gone to Florida to do the negotiating on the contract, so this was going to be Christian’s first face-to-face meeting with Lancaster.
“Ray’s tough,” Nigel warned.
“He better be. I want the Dice in the play-offs this season so we get all that extra publicity for the casino. Call me back when—”
“What about Laurel Energy?” Nigel interrupted. “Anything on that? Are we close to selling it?”
Christian let out a ten-ton sigh. “Let’s talk about it later.” Laurel Energy was a Canadian oil and gas company—and another Everest problem child. Christian—and everyone else at Everest—had been anticipating a huge profit on the sale of Laurel, but it had been on the market for a while and there...
Christian Gillette sat on the balcony of his suite at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas, watching first light scale the craggy peaks in the distance. In a few hours tourists would be mobbing the casino on the ground floor. He hoped soon it would be his casino they’d be mobbing.
Christian ran Everest Capital, a Manhattan-based investment firm that owned thirty companies in a wide range of industries—smokestack to high-tech. The companies were all large, at least a billion in sales, and Christian chaired eighteen of them. He also chaired Central States Telecom and Satellite, a communications company in Chicago that Everest had taken public six months ago—after owning for three years. Everest had made four hundred million on the CST initial public offering—Christian had gotten twenty of that. Forty years old, he’d already made fifty times more than most people did in a lifetime, but it hadn’t gone to his head. Money was just money, and success could be fleeting.
He dialed Nigel Faraday’s cell number. Nigel was one of Everest’s five managing partners. There were sixty-four people at the firm, but, other than his assistant, Debbie, the five partners were Christian’s only direct reports. Beneath the partners was a burgeoning pyramid of managing directors, vice presidents, and associates, but he rarely dealt with them. Five years ago, he’d known everyone at Everest by name. He missed those days.
Nigel answered on the third ring. “Well, well, you gambling, Chris?” Nigel had lived in the United States for almost twenty years, but his British accent remained heavy. “Sitting in front of some one-armed bandit with your bucket of quarters?” He laughed. “Ah, the slot machine. Another wonderful contribution to mankind from you Americans. Right up there with rap music and the Big Mac.”
Playing the slots actually sounded like fun to Christian, if only for its pure simplicity, but there wasn’t time. It seemed like there never was anymore for things like that. “Hey, I don’t mind rap once in a while, and I don’t know why you, of all people, would bash the Big Mac. You’ve eaten your share.”
“Hey, chap, what I eat is my business.”
“Relax, chap, I’m just kidding.” Christian heard traffic in the background at the other end of the line—horns blaring, engines revving, tires skidding. “Where are you?”
“Walking down Park. Bit of a late start to the office this morning, I’m afraid.”
Nigel was huffing as he strode toward Everest’s Park Avenue headquarters. The Brit was thirty pounds overweight thanks to a steady diet of rocky road ice cream and those Big Macs. “Up late last night?” Christian asked. Nigel was fresh into a new relationship with a pretty brunette he’d met a few weeks ago. They were in the infatuation stage, calling each other five times a day and staying out late every night. “I don’t want that woman distracting you, no matter how wonderful she is.”
“Look, I—”
“No, no, I’m glad you’re finally enjoying yourself,” Christian broke in. Nigel had put in a lot of long days the last few years, taking care of administrative details so Christian could focus on the big picture. Nigel had been Mr. Inside so Christian could be Mr. Outside, and the formula worked. Both Forbes and Fortune had tabbed Everest Capital as one of the top investment firms. “Now, any updates?”
Dead air.
“Nigel?”
“Just one.”
Christian picked up something in Nigel’s tone, and a tiny alarm went off in his head. “What?”
“After you left for Vegas last night, I got an e-mail from Bob Galloway.”
Bob Galloway was the chief financial officer of CST. Despite being chairman of CST, Christian didn’t know Galloway well, just saw him for a few hours at quarterly board meetings. Nigel, on the other hand, knew Galloway very well. Though Nigel wasn’t technically a CST officer like Christian, he was Everest’s day-to-day person on the investment. The one at Everest who constantly kept up with how CST was doing. The one who knew CST’s financial staff and had been in charge of dealing directly with the lawyers and investment bankers during the IPO.
“Some woman from the Securities and Exchange Commission called Galloway yesterday,” Nigel explained.
Hearing from the SEC was like hearing from the IRS or the Grim Reaper: Safe bet it wasn’t good news. “What did she want?” Christian asked.
“She called to demand a meeting. Didn’t tell Galloway any more than that.”
“Okay, call Galloway as soon as we’re finished. Tell him to get back in touch with the SEC right away and find out what’s going on. Let me know as soon as you hear anything. And, Nigel?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure Galloway doesn’t mention this to anyone else at CST.”
“Sure, sure.”
Christian heard a trace of fear in Nigel’s tone. “It’ll be fine, pal. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m worried all right,” Nigel admitted.
“Being worried doesn’t help.”
“Sorry I’m human. I’m glad you can stay so cool about it, Chris, but those people scare the hell out of me. They can destroy anybody anytime. Remember that guy who got twenty years for telling his girlfriend he had a stock tip over the phone, when what he really said was he had a sock that was ripped?”
“What guy? I don’t remember that.”
“And with my accent,” Nigel continued, “I could see it happening to me.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh yeah? Ask the guys at Enron and MCI.”
“They got what they deserved.”
“You’ll be whistling a different tune when they bust into Everest and lead you and me out in shackles in front of the whole firm.”
Sometimes Nigel panicked too quickly. He didn’t have many faults, but hitting the eject button prematurely was one of them. “That call Galloway got was probably nothing, probably just some kind of follow-up on the IPO.”
“I hope so. Hey, what about the casino license?” Nigel asked, his voice growing stronger as he switched subjects. “Everything all right there? Opening day isn’t far off.”
Two years ago Everest Capital had won the National Football League’s new Las Vegas franchise and named it the Dice. They’d spent over seven hundred million for the team and a new stadium they were building east of the city. As part of the deal with the NFL, Christian had gotten permission to build a casino, also naming it the Dice. The casino was supposed to open the day of the team’s home opener, which was just a few months away. On top of the seven hundred million for the team and the stadium, Everest had forked out a billion on construction of the casino—which was almost finished. Now, at the last minute, the Nevada Gaming Commission was holding off on approving the operating license. What seemed like a dream come true a month ago was turning into a nightmare. Christian hadn’t told anyone else at the firm how bad the situa- tion was.
“We’ll get the license,” he assured Nigel. Trying to figure out what was going on with the license was Christian’s main reason for coming to Las Vegas. At two o’clock he was meeting with the chairman of the Gaming Commission. “Don’t sweat it.” Sometimes it seemed like he spent half his life convincing people there wasn’t any smoke and the other half putting out fires.
“You think the mob’s involved?” Nigel asked. “Think they’re holding the commission up for some last-minute dough?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here, to find out.”
“Didn’t we hire somebody in Vegas to take care of those things, to deal with the mob? Like most people out there do when they’re building something big. What’s his name?”
“Carmine Torino.” Christian had been trying to reach Torino for a week, but suddenly no one could find him. Until now the guy had never taken more than fifteen minutes to return his call. Torino had vanished into thin air.
“Yeah, right, Carmine Torino.”
“I’ve gotta go, Nigel. Ray Lancaster’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
Ray Lancaster was the Dice’s head coach and general manager. Christian had hired him away from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers last February. Nigel had gone to Florida to do the negotiating on the contract, so this was going to be Christian’s first face-to-face meeting with Lancaster.
“Ray’s tough,” Nigel warned.
“He better be. I want the Dice in the play-offs this season so we get all that extra publicity for the casino. Call me back when—”
“What about Laurel Energy?” Nigel interrupted. “Anything on that? Are we close to selling it?”
Christian let out a ten-ton sigh. “Let’s talk about it later.” Laurel Energy was a Canadian oil and gas company—and another Everest problem child. Christian—and everyone else at Everest—had been anticipating a huge profit on the sale of Laurel, but it had been on the market for a while and there...
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- Publication date2006
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- ISBN 13 9780345480606
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