The Insiders

grandfather’s quest? But his introspection lasted only a few moments before his certainty and commitment returned, stronger than before.

“What else can I say? I honestly believe that our collective future depends on exposing this web of corruption. And I think we’re the only ones who can do it. In fact, I believe it’s the only way we’ll be able to save our own lives.”

“Only God can expose evil in all its forms,” Rachel said in a final attempt to dissuade Wilson.

Dead silence hung in the air for several moments. Emily and Rachel looked at each other as if awaiting their deaths on the gallows. It was Carter, who broke the silence.

“What did you have in mind, Wilson?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Carter smiled while Emily and Rachel looked stoic and pale. They all agreed to sleep on it. One by one, they returned to the string quartet’s rehearsal in the large family room at the back of the house. Wilson’s mother and Elizabeth Emerson were sitting next to each other on the yellow sectional that wrapped around the large glass coffee table. Darrin was lying back on the fully extended moss-green lounge chair with his eyes closed. Aunt Sarah was rocking little Mary to sleep in the Scandinavian rocker. Savoy and his associate Case were standing at the back near the French doors to the verandah. The string quartet was seated in a semi-circle near the stone fireplace. It was a warm and inviting ambiance, if only they could have enjoyed it.

The four of them took seats on the sectional for a few minutes before Carter and his wife had to leave. After a few more minutes of casual conversation with Rachel and Wilson’s mother, Emily left for the guestroom on the second floor. She told Wilson she needed some time to herself. He understood her concern, but he wasn’t about to change his mind. Tenacity can be a dangerous trait but only when you’re wrong. I’m not wrong: their lives depend on my resolve. He returned to the belfry library to begin working on an implementation plan.

22

Quinn — Chicago, IL

Since returning from Banff, David Quinn felt as though he’d died a thousand deaths. Monday’s edition of The Wall Street Journal carried a front-page article about the J. B. Musselman Company and its decision to fire the prestigious management consulting firm of Kresge amp; Company for questioning Musselman’s future viability and recommending the company’s breakup. As a result of the rumor mill generated by the article, Musselman’s stock yo-yoed erratically until it plummeted by almost thirty percent in value. Quinn was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted from worrying about collateralizing his stock options and agonizing over every quarter point drop in the company’s stock. When the stock finally bottomed out at 97/8 a share and Hardware City made its tender offer of 117/8, Quinn was begging for deliverance.

Then, miraculously, another aggressive buyer in the form of Pace Warehouses along with the secret partnership’s network of buyers went on a competitive buying spree, eventually bringing the trading of Musselman stock to a near complete halt. All of the shareholders who now owned Musselman’s 950 million shares of stock were holding their positions, waiting for someone to sell or offer another premium. That’s when the bid price from floor traders began climbing to keep trading alive, just as expected. As the floor price approached thirteen dollars a share, Hardware City announced that it had been blocked in its takeover attempt. The hostile suitor began selling the stock it had purchased to a growing group of anxious investors who now saw Musselman stock as a superb undervalued opportunity. The stock price moved quickly back to fourteen dollars.

Tate and Kamin had delivered on their promise. Quinn felt resurrected, barely able to contain his elation. He kissed Kamin on the cheek three times-once for Kamin, once for Tate, who had already gone to the airport to catch a flight to Rome for another client retreat, and once for the anonymous contingent that had helped to prevent Musselman’s takeover by Hardware City.

As the week progressed, things only got better. Thursday’s edition of The Wall Street Journal carried another front-page article on Musselman, this time heralding the company’s upcoming grand opening of America’s Warehouse as the reason for David Quinn’s courageous stand against Kresge amp; Company and Hardware City:

David Quinn’s vision for reinventing the J. B. Musselman Company seems destined for success. His bold strategy to convert thousands of distribution warehouses into bargain basements called America’s Warehouse, has already won enormous media attention. According to Musselman’s advertising agency Boggs amp; Saggett, shoppers will find better values and greater varieties than anywhere else.

Driven by an unwavering determination to turn Musselman’s twenty-five billion dollar roll-up of local and regional warehouses into an industry powerhouse, CEO Quinn has surmounted huge obstacles. He battled a skeptical board of directors, renowned management consultants who recommended dismantling the company, and a hostile takeover bid by Hardware City Stores. Now he claims to have engineered a corporate turnaround epitomized by a marketing campaign the likes of which this industry has never seen.

After yesterday’s dramatic rebound in the company’s stock price, some analysts are speculating that Musselman’s launch of America’s Warehouse next week will revolutionize the industry. This could become the biggest success story in mass merchandising since Amazon.com, but with traditional bricks and mortar, not digital web pages …

When Quinn read the article, tears came to his eyes. He was beyond elated. Tate and Kamin had come through yet again with flying colors. They’d convinced The Wall Street Journal’s editor- in-chief, Jeremy Watts, to tell Quinn’s side of the story.

Quinn was beaming like a conquering hero when Jules Kamin returned once more to share in the good news.

“I’ve been born again, thanks to you and Wayland and all your people.”

“Your stock is already trading at sixteen dollars,” Kamin said, pointing to one of the computer monitors in Quinn’s office.

“Now the only thing we need to do is get me out…”

“Don’t worry, David,” Kamin said quietly, placing his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Daily trading volume has remained over forty million shares since Monday. We started selling your shares on Tuesday. You’ll be out before the end of the day.”

Musselman stock moved steadily upward during the rest of the day, seventeen dollars a share by noon, nineteen by mid-afternoon, and twenty-two at closing. It was a phenomenal ride. Thirty minutes before the bell rang, Quinn went ballistic with joy and then started crying again. The last of his ninety-five million shares purchased illegally through the concealed entity had been sold. It had taken four long days and a lot of nail-biting, but he was finally out of the market.

Quinn hugged everyone in sight. First, he hugged Kamin for the fourth time in two days. Then, he hugged two of his senior executives, who had come to congratulate him on the rising stock price, three of his administrative assistants, and all ten of the Musselman and Boggs amp; Saggett team members, who were hunkered down in a nearby conference room to hammer out the final details of America’s Warehouse grand opening. He kissed Andrea Vargas twice.

Turning back to Kamin who’d followed him to the conference room, Quinn said with eyes aglow, “This is the happiest day of my life, Jules. I want to acquire Hardware City before the end of the year.”

23

Wilson — Cambridge, MA

A dozen alternative strategies for taking down the secret partnership scrolled through Wilson’s mind, as he reflected on a past conversation with his father. He was alone in the belfry library, giving Emily the space she needed. The conversation he couldn’t stop thinking about had taken place fifteen years ago, during a Christmas