The Power Broker Read Free Page A

“We call it CST.” Christian had been wondering if there was something he’d missed, something he should have seen. Wondering if he should have been more personally involved in the IPO instead of letting Nigel handle everything. Wondering if he hadn’t gotten as involved in the IPO as he normally would have because the truth was he couldn’t take dealing with the minutiae anymore. If, after ten years of constant pressure, he was burning out. “I’m chairman of that company because we owned it before we took it public, and the public shareholders voted to keep me on.”
    “How the hell do you have time to be chairman of all of those companies?”
    “I’ve got good people working for me who run the businesses day to day. People like you.”
    “I hope you’re still saying that in a couple of years,” Lancaster muttered. “Is it all yours and Nigel’s money?”
    Christian grinned. “I wish. No, the way it works is that big investors front us the money. Insurance companies, banks, pension funds, wealthy individuals. We buy the companies with the money the investors commit to us, operate them for a few years, then sell them, hopefully for a lot more than we paid.”
    Lancaster looked puzzled. “But I read in
Forbes
magazine that you’re worth like five hundred million bucks. If it’s not your money, how can you be worth so much? Do they pay you
that much
in salary?” He hesitated. “Or did you inherit it?”
    Christian hadn’t inherited a cent. After his father’s death—right after Christian had graduated from Princeton—his stepmother had cut him off from the family. From the money, from everything. For a while he’d been forced to beg, borrow, and steal—sometimes literally. “Neither,” he answered. “When we sell companies, we keep twenty percent of the profits. When we sold CST to the public we made four hundred million dollars more than we put in. Our investors got their investment back and three hundred twenty million of the profit. We kept eighty of the profit. One of my jobs as chairman is to spread that eighty around the firm.”
    Lancaster shook his head. “Jesus, no wonder you’re worth so much.”
    “It isn’t as easy as it sounds. Selling a company for more than you paid takes a lot of work, and almost as much luck.”
    Lancaster was looking off at the Stratosphere tower again, a strange expression spreading across his face. Like he had another important question on his mind, but he really didn’t want to ask it.
    “What’s wrong?” Christian pushed.
    “What happened a couple of years ago?”
    “What do you mean?” But Christian was pretty sure he knew what Lancaster was getting at.
    “There were all these articles on the Internet about you killing the mayor of some little town in Maryland,” Lancaster answered, “and being hunted by the cops. The feds even got into it. You were public enemy number one for a few days. Then, bam, you go from desperado to hero. The later articles didn’t really explain
why
you were suddenly a hero, but a bunch of senior government people were singing your praises.”
    “I didn’t kill that woman,” Christian said sharply. “The mayor of that town, I mean.”
    “What
did
you do?”
    “It’s a long story. Some people were trying to frame me for her murder, but, in the end, the truth came out. They were the ones that killed her.”
    Lancaster nodded. “I know, I read all that. I was just wondering what it was all about.”
    Christian took a breath. “Here’s the thing, I—” His cell phone went off. It was a Las Vegas number he vaguely recognized. “Hello.”
    “Christian Gillette?” The voice at the other end of the line was faint.
    “Yes.”
    “This is Alan Agee. I’m chairman of the—”
    “The Nevada Gaming Commission,” Christian interrupted. “Of course.” The guy sounded awful, like he was about to puke. “I’ll see you at two o’clock, right?”
    “Can’t do it,” Agee said. “Got to put it off. Maybe