The Successor: A Novel - Hardcover

Frey, Stephen

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0345480627 ISBN 13: 9780345480620

Publisher: Ballantine Books, 2007

Synopsis

Make-or-break decisions involving millions of dollars are all in a day’s work for Christian Gillette, chairman of Everest Capital, New York’s most renowned private equity firm. He’s taken on the toughest, most powerful, and often most dangerous adversaries and prevailed–all the while honing his skill for being cool under fire, literally. But now Gillette will be put to the ultimate test. He’s offered the chance to seal a deal unlike any other, one that goes beyond boardrooms, balance sheets, and even Everest itself–one that will leave its mark on history.

Gillette is no stranger to Jesse Wood, the first African American president of the United States, having been Wood’s chosen running mate in his historic bid for the White House. Though still slightly upset over being dropped from the ticket at the eleventh hour, Gillette’s not about to ignore the chief executive’s summons to a top-secret meeting at Camp David. There, Wood drops a bombshell: The president of Cuba is dead. Cuba’s communist regime has kept the dictator’s demise hush while it races to fill the power vacuum. And the United States is poised to support a cabal of Cuban professionals plotting a coup. The President wants Gillette to meet with the conspirators and size up the chances for a successful capitalist revolution. But by no means can his mission be traced back to the White House. If anything goes wrong, Gillette is on his own.

And if certain people have their way, something will go wrong. For the conspiracy to liberate Cuba isn’t the only one afoot. Enemies in high places, who will go to any lengths to wreak revenge on Gillette and to unseat President Wood, have set in motion a campaign of deception, sabotage, and murder whose shockwaves will resonate from the streets of Havana to the Oval Office. But for Gillette, who has just named his alluring and ambitious protégé, Allison Wallace, as his successor at Everest, the greatest peril may lie much closer to home.

The Successor is blue-chip Stephen Frey, marshaling his flawless instincts for edgy, provocative, breathtaking suspense with a master’s touch.

About this title

About the Author:

Stephen Frey is a managing director at a private equity firm. He previously worked in mergers and acquisitions at J.P. Morgan and as a vice president of corporate finance at an international bank in Manhattan. Frey is the bestselling author of The Power Broker, 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.:

ONE
March

Christian Gillette reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his favorite pen—a fifty-cent Paper Mate you could pick up at any drugstore in Manhattan. White plastic with a light blue cap and black lettering down the side. He’d been using these for twenty years, ever since Stanford Business School. He liked the way the ink flowed evenly and smoothly all the time, and when he found something reliable, he stuck with it. From pens to people.

One of the army of attorneys on the other side of the long conference-room table snickered. “We had special ones made for the occasion,” the young man explained quickly when his white-haired senior partner gave him a mortified look from the far end of the table. “As mementos.” He pointed at a cardboard box in front of him. “Nice Cross pens.” He was younger than everyone else in the room by nearly a decade, a bottom-rung associate less than a year out of Columbia Law School who’d been working on this transaction for nine months, basically since he joined the firm. That was how long it had taken to get all the government approvals from both the U.S. and Canadian governments so they could close the transaction. “They’ve got the deal parties inscribed on them in gold letters,” he added, babbling at this point. “ExxonMobil acquires Laurel Energy. The date, too. They’re way cool.”

Christian watched the associate turn beet red. Way cool had sounded way wrong in this staid fifty-seventh-floor conference room overlooking a darkened Wall Street. The senior partner looked as if he were about to explode, too.

“I’m sorry . . . I just meant that . . .” The associate swallowed the rest of his sentence, realizing that the hole he’d dug would only get deeper the longer he went on, no matter what he said. The experience of being involved in such a huge deal at this tender a career age had gone from euphoric to nightmarish in a heartbeat, and he was seeing his short stint at the firm going up in flames over ink dispensers. “I just wanted you to have a nice pen for the occasion, Mr. Gillette. For all of you to have a nice pen,” he mumbled, gesturing around the table, unable to stop himself from talking. “Sorry if I—”

“Enough,” the senior partner broke in. “Good God, where do we get these young people—”

“I appreciate you doing that,” Christian spoke up. The kid had probably done more work than all the other lawyers on the other side of the table put together, but they still wanted to charge Exxon $20 million. Incredible, he thought to himself. Even more incredible, Exxon would pay it. “Can I have one now?”

“Sure.” The kid reached into the cardboard box and pulled out a smaller one from inside, then rose from his seat and brought it to Christian. “Here you go, sir.”

Christian winced. He hated it when people called him sir, made him feel like somebody’s grandfather. And he wasn’t that old, just forty-three. But the kid was only being respectful, he knew. “Nice,” he said, taking the pen out and admiring it. “Thanks.”

“We’ll have tombstones made up, too, of course,” the senior partner added in an official voice, making it sound as if the pens were cheap trinkets compared to the tombstones.

Christian gazed silently at the older man for a few moments, then looked up at the kid, who was still standing beside his chair. “I understand you’re the one who finally got the DOJ and the Department of Energy off their asses. Probably would have been another nine months if you hadn’t. Nice job.” Christian smiled. “You and I ought to have lunch sometime.”

“Sure,” the kid agreed, realizing that in a flash he’d just regained all of his credibility—and more. Christian Gillette was a legend on Wall Street—the chairman of Everest Capital, one of the most powerful private-equity buyout firms in the world. Their bond had been nothing but a quick burst, but it had been real and now he was protected. “That would be great.”

“Good.” Christian always checked on who’d done the real work. He’d been low man on the deal totem pole a long time ago, and he knew a lot of times that was where things really happened. “Call my assistant Debbie next week and set it up.” Despite the senior partner’s condescending attitude, Christian knew the kid was good. He’d asked around. “I’ll let her know you’re calling. Who knows? Maybe you’ll come work for me someday.” That got a chuckle from around the table, but Christian gave the kid a nod to let him know he wasn’t kidding. He leaned forward over the table. “We ready?” he asked impatiently, tapping his watch. “It’s getting late.”

The senior partner motioned to the young associate, who trotted to a cart sitting at the far end of the room. On the cart were ten two-inch-thick purchase agreements detailing the terms and conditions covering ExxonMobil’s $4.8 billion purchase of Laurel Energy from Everest Capital. Several years ago Christian had bought Laurel—a Canadian exploration and production company—for $300 million. Soon after buying it, his company engineers discovered a major new oil field on several option properties Laurel controlled, making the company worth multiples of what he’d paid. Now he was about to make $4.5 billion on the sale.

When the associate had finished piling the books up in two neat stacks of five, Christian’s attorney reached for the top one on the closest stack and opened it to a page near the back. To a page with a long black line above Christian’s name, which was typed in big bold letters. “ExxonMobil’s already signed everything, Christian,” she explained. “It’s up to you now.”

“You satisfied?” he asked her. Mountains of documents supported the purchase agreements—$25 million worth because her firm was charging him another $5 million—but this was the only page requiring his signature. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

Christian rotated the bottom of the Cross pen half a turn so the tip extended, then stroked his signature across the black line. Nine more times and the deal was done.

He grinned as he finished the last signature in the last book. He’d sold lots of companies in the last ten years. To big conglomerates like ExxonMobil as well as to the public. The thrill of making a nice profit was nothing new—but he’d never made $4.5 billion on a single transaction. This was like hitting Lotto.

The most amazing thing about it all was that Everest got to keep 20 percent of that profit—$900 million. It was the contractual arrangement he had with his investors—20 percent of anything he earned he kept. He was going to make a lot of people at Everest Capital very happy with all that money. From the senior-level managing partners who reported directly to him, all the way down to the receptionists. And the older he got, the more important making people happy was becoming.

He glanced at his watch—almost nine o’clock. It had been a long day, but it was still going to be another fifteen minutes before they wrapped up everything and he could get out of here. He wanted to get home in time to watch the Oscars, but that was looking more and more as if it wasn’t going to happen. He had to return that important call as soon as he was done here. There was no telling how long that call would take.

Melissa Hart had been waiting what seemed like an eternity for tonight, for what she’d do if she won. Now her doubt was gone. She would win. But that wasn’t where it ended, not by a long shot.

Winning was predestined. Her psychic had seen the victory play out perfectly during their half-hour session yesterday afternoon. The dramatic buildup, the announcement, the thunderous applause. The real question now was, Would she follow through? The question bothered Melissa deeply because her psychic had seen everything up through the applause—but nothing after. Her connection to the future had evaporated at that point.

The sequence had come to Melissa in a dream eight years ago, on the night of her fourteenth birthday—a few hours after her mother had succumbed to a long and agonizing battle against breast cancer. It had come to Melissa after her eyes had finally fallen shut from the anguish of a steady stream of tears and exhaustion brought on by being awake for seventy-two hours straight while her mother died.

Melissa had been bedside constantly during those three days as her mother drifted in and out, slowly fading away. In the final few moments there had been a look of utter despair in the sunken eyes, a desperate squeeze of the cold fingers, and one last shallow gasp. For a long time those images had remained vivid, shredding Melissa’s heart constantly, as though her mother had died yesterday every day.

The dream had recurred several nights a week since her mother’s death—until Melissa had received word from her agent last month that she had, in fact, been nominated. Then the dream had ceased and she’d slept soundly every night since. Even the images of her mother’s last few moments seemed not so clear anymore.

The limousine’s bar was stocked full and Melissa had taken advantage of it on the ride over to Hollywood from her two-bedroom apartment in Santa Monica. She’d downed three glasses of champagne in less than thirty minutes to give herself those last few ounces of courage. The Dom had tasted delicious and boosted her confidence, but she wondered if it would last.

When she entered the auditorium of the Kodak Theatre she was glad she’d reac...

About this edition

• Publisher: Ballantine Books
• Publication date: 2007
• ISBN 10: 0345480627
• ISBN 13: 9780345480620
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 304