The Protégé by Stephen Frey Read Free Book Online Page A

negotiating with a couple of the major airlines to add flights from Los Angeles to Vegas on game weekends. Remember, as crazy as it sounds, L.A. doesn’t have a football team, and we’ve got assurances from the NFL that it won’t get one in the next few years, until we’re established. I think L.A. will adopt the Vegas franchise. It’s a nothing flight for those people—you’re up, you’re down. We’re also working with the casinos on promotions, and we’re pretty far along with several of them. In fact—and what I’m about to tell you has to stay in this room,” he said, giving everyone a warning glare. “We’re looking at opening a casino ourselves. We’ve gotten to know the city officials very well over the last two years, and they’ve told us they can persuade the state gaming commission to give us a license.”
    “What about the Mafia?” Maggie asked bluntly.
    Gillette had figured someone would ask about that. “We’re checking, but I doubt the NFL would green-light the franchise if the Mafia was still a problem out there.” He had better information than that but didn’t want to alarm anyone. “I’ll keep everyone up-to-date on what we find,” he promised, looking around the room. It was time to end the cross-examination. Maggie was good, but she didn’t get it this time. “This could turn out to be one of our best investments ever. Not Laurel Energy, but close.”
    People rapped on the table hard, nodding their approval, understanding that Gillette had ended the discussion on this topic.
    “Another thing,” he continued, holding up his hand for quiet. “I’m going to retain Morgan Stanley to sell Laurel Energy.”
    “Why Morgan Stanley?” Maggie asked.
    “Why not?”
    “I thought Goldman Sachs had the best mergers and acquisitions group for the energy industry.”
    “Morgan Stanley will do a great job for us,” Gillette replied confidently.
    “Is this payback?” Maggie looked over at Wright, then back at Gillette.
    “For what?” Gillette demanded.
    “You know what.”
    Gillette’s eyes narrowed. “No.” He stared at her for a few moments more, then resumed the meeting. “I want to get back to a point Blair made earlier. The fact that we’ll be making two hundred million a year in fees on Everest Eight. I’ve decided to commit ten million of the first-year fee to St. Christopher’s Hospital up on the West Side.” He paused. “I want all of you to make personal contributions to your local charities, too. In your towns, your neighborhoods, whatever. That’ll be something I’ll talk about with each of you during your annual reviews in January. Frankly, the more you donate the better. All of us are lucky when it comes to money. I know everyone works hard and makes a lot of sacrifices, particularly those of you who have spouses and children. You don’t see them much,” he said, his voice dropping. “But it isn’t like we dig ditches, either. While I’m chairman, this firm is going to be socially responsible, understood?”
    His words were met with nods.
    “Good.” Gillette checked his agenda, scratching out the NFL, Laurel Energy, and charitable contribution items. The next topic was the L.A. office. “Just so everyone’s clear, Nigel and I are looking into opening a Los Angeles office, but we haven’t made any final decisions yet. I don’t want rumors going around. When we do make a decision, we’ll let everyone know right away.” He grinned. “Anybody want to volunteer to go?”
    Wright raised his hand immediately. “Can I get promoted to managing partner if I do?”
    Gillette shot Faraday a quick look and shook his head, still grinning.
    Faraday rolled his eyes.
    “Always looking for a deal, aren’t you, David.” Gillette turned back to face Wright. “Stop by later and we’ll talk about it. We can talk more about that other thing, too.”
    “Stop by later” meant they’d talk about it during a game of pool in the room adjoining Gillette’s