Graveland: A Novel by Alan Glynn Read Free Book Online

sets a tone, and within a matter of minutes—and somewhat to his surprise—he feels a growing confidence. They discuss proposals to buy a Phoenix-based electric utility operator, a chain of British health-food stores, and an equity fund that manages $35.6 billion on behalf of two Swedish pension schemes. Views are expressed, relevant data is presented, figures are pored over. And Howley listens . He defers, solicits further information, and then outlines a provisional strategy for each of the deals. The whole thing goes very smoothly. Afterward, as Howley is chatting with the CEO of Lyndon Consulting about “poor old” Bob Holland, one of the group heads comes up to him and shakes his hand, doesn’t say anything, just gives him a very firm handshake that seems to speak volumes. A few minutes later, two other group heads approach and ask him straight out what his position is on the IPO question.
    This is a tricky one.
    Filing for a public ticker is not necessarily the panacea that some people think it is. High-profile private equity firms have offered in the past, started well, and then seen their share prices plummet. It’d also involve opening the company’s books to public scrutiny, and as a Pentagon man that’s something Howley would find particularly distasteful. In fact, he’s pretty much ad idem with Vaughan on this, but at the same time he’s aware that that’s not what these guys want to hear.
    “Look,” he says to them, just above a whisper, “we’re in a volatile phase here, so let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”
    This is sufficiently cryptic and conspiratorial to mean anything and everything—and, crucially, nothing. It seems to satisfy them.
    When he gets to his office, Angela already has the call in to Meredith Vaughan. Personally, he’d have waited a bit, but he’s not going to argue. Angela only ever acts in his best interests.
    It’s Meredith that’s the problem.
    He can’t take her seriously. She’s forty-six years younger than Vaughan—a man who’s already been married five times—and yet she acts, and expects to be treated, like she’s the First Lady. She’s very attractive, he supposes, but that’s hardly relevant.
    “Meredith, hi.”
    “Thanks for getting back to me, Craig.”
    And then there’s that awful come-hither pussycat voice of hers.
    “No problem. How’s Jimmy?”
    “He’s not too bad, a little tired. I think he’s got a mild chest infection or something.” She pauses. “I wasn’t going to let him go in today.”
    “Of course not.” Howley is about to say something here about calling a doctor when he remembers that Vaughan sees a doctor every single day—his own personal physician, no less, a man employed to monitor a serious blood condition Vaughan has, along with anything else that might come up.
    Such as a mild chest infection.
    “But listen, Craig,” Meredith says. “Jimmy wants you to come for dinner tonight. Is that okay?”
    This is not a question. Or an invitation.
    “Sure.”
    “He just wants a quiet chat.”
    Code for don’t bring Jessica.
    “Of course.” Howley knows the routine here. Vaughan needs to eat early. “Seven good?”
    “Perfect. We’ll see you then.”
    We?
    After he puts the phone down, Howley looks at his desk, at a big report on it that he has to read for an upcoming symposium he’s addressing on opportunities in the clean energy sector.
    Wind turbines, solar power, shale gas.
    He reaches for the report and skims through a few pages. He’s distracted, though, and his eyes glaze over. He glances out the window and replays the meeting in his head.
    It was subtle, not much you could put your finger on, but he was right—the dynamic here at Oberon HQ has indeed shifted.
    *   *   *
    Ellen Dorsey wakes up tired. Technically, she got plenty of sleep, but it wasn’t the restorative kind, not by a long shot. It was more like eight hours of enhanced interrogation, but without any actual questions or clear