The Villiers Touch

“Don’t try to put words in my mouth,” Cleland said. “You know what we want. The question is, what do you want?”

“I thought it was obvious by now. I want NCI.”

“No. You won’t get it, and you know that. So the question becomes, what will you settle for?”

Villiers shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I didn’t come here to bargain and negotiate and reach a compromise. There’s no middle ground here. You go along or you go under, that’s all there is.”

“You’re playing poker-ru

Villiers’ reply was the slightest of smiles. It had no visible effect on Cleland, but some of the others were visibly chilled; shaken, they looked away and fidgeted. Villiers nodded to Isher and Wyatt, who dragged on his cigarette and poured thick, slow rivers of smoke from his nostrils while he packed up his briefcase. Villiers walked down the length of the room to the door, turned, caught Dan Silverstein’s eye for a moment, and said to Cleland, “Our newspaper ads will be on the street Monday morning. You’ll have to make up your minds between now and then. If you’re smart, you won’t make a fight of it.”

Isher opened the door. They filed put; and Isher, with exaggerated propriety, closed the door firmly behind him.

They waited for the elevator-Villiers calm and steady, the others breathing hard. Steve Wyatt’s grin jerked, and he said nervously, “Prosperity is just around the corner.”

“Objection,” said Isher. “Assuming facts not in evidence. They haven’t capitulated yet.”

“They will,” Wyatt said. “Hell, four of them sold Heggins short on information we got leaked to them-those four are in a hell of a tight spot, and the only way they can get out of it with their scalps whole is accept our deal and trade their NCI shares for Heggins convertibles.”

The elevator came; they stepped in. Sidney Isher said, “If they’re inclined to play dirty pool, they may stop us yet.”

Villiers spoke finally: “They’ll hassle for a while. Silverstein will keep slinging wrenches into the works. With him in the group, if all seven of them were laid end to end they couldn’t reach a decision. The only thing they can do is try to get through to Judd on the phone, and they won’t reach him. They’ll still be arguing when our ads hit the market-and as long as they’re arguing among themselves, they won’t be fighting us.”

“Maybe,” Isher said. “Maybe. I think you’re selling them short. I think Cleland will ride right over Dan Silverstein like a steamroller. I think for every ad of ours on a left-hand page we’re going to see an ad of theirs on a right-hand page exhorting stockholders not to tender any shares to Heggins. And we can be sure they’ll spell out the reasons in blood.”

“Let them try,” Villiers growled, and strode away across the marble-floored lobby.

28. Russell Hastings

Hastings came down the hall with his tie at half-mast, collar open, entered the head office, and found Quint wasn’t alone-there was an elegant old man in a black Chesterfield, and a dark pretty girl.

Quint acknowledged his arrival in his wry English drawl: “Marvelous. Enter the hero.” There never was any real bite in Quint’s sarcasms; Hastings only smiled and shook hands when Quint introduced him to the visitors-Howard Claiborne, of Bierce, Claiborne amp; Myers, and Claiborne’s private secretary, Miss Goralski. Quint completed the introductions by intoning, “Russ Hastings, an attorney on my staff. Russ has been concentrating on the NCI matter, and I think it would be judicious to repeat what you’ve told me to him.”

Howard Claiborne gave Hastings a firm handshake and an unsmiling greeting. Quint indicated a chair, and Hastings settled in it after turning toward Miss Goralski but thinking better of offering to shake her hand: the girl seemed to be in a state of marked agitation, too distracted by nervous anxiety to do more than acknowledge him with a jerky nod of her pretty head.

Howard Claiborne cleared his throat and said, “My secretary and I seem to have become involved unwittingly in certain activities of a recent employee of mine-activities which, if not entirely illegal, could at least be described as extralegal. I think perhaps it would-”

“Excuse me,” Gordon Quint said. “It occurs to me we’ll save time if I ask one of the Justice Department chaps to sit in, so that you won’t have to go over it yet again. Unless you object?”

“Not at all,” Claiborne replied. “Miss Goralski was good enough to come to me with the information we’ve given you, and as I told you, I decided immediately to bring the entire matter to the attention of the authorities. By all means, let’s have the Justice Department.”

Quint nodded and reached for the phone; while he waited for his co

They were printed market letters and analysts’ bulletins, stacked in chronological order, begi

It was headed “CONFIDENTIAL: FOR SUBSCRIBERS’ USE ONLY” and in typical Wall Streetese it said:

As the year develops, the economy has undergone a moderate readjustment, and even though there is no unanimity among economists, it is fair to estimate that, by and large, dividends will hold up well, though there will be a few instances of tax selling and casualties. Given the current slowdown in business it is doubtful there will be any short-term reverse in the present leveling-off trend, although with current high interest rates, only time will tell whether a slump across the board is in the offing. At the moment there is no sign of such a further deceleration.

NCI has advanced four points since recommended here in March, and we think that while near-term uncertainties exist, NCI has formed a sound base and will probably continue to rise steadily, although no one can guarantee against the unexpected.

Meanwhile it appears Heggins Aircraft may be ready to move. It may well be one of the sleepers of the year, when the public begins to recognize its potential under its new management’s dynamic programs of boldly pla

Hastings read the rest of them, frowning and shaking his head and smiling wryly at intervals. Quint caught his eye, and Hastings said, “It’s inconceivable to me that so many subscribers can fall for this kind of idiocy. No real insider in his right mind is going to let a genuine hot tip out if he’s got any way to stop it. These writers are no more privy to inside information than the man in the street. The same people that believe this junk would never think of going into a high-stakes crap game on a stranger’s advice and on borrowed money.”

He saw the touch of a smile at the corner of Howard Claiborne’s stern mouth; he went on through the stack of bulletins, and it was only when he reached the end that he got the point. It was last Tuesday’s issue of the same market letter:

The economy remains in a moderate state of readjustment, and there is as yet no sign of acceleration in industrial capital investment.

Clearly, there must come times when circumstances force a recommendation to be rescinded. Since NCI was mentioned here last, changing factors have come to light which cast a cautionary glow over the company. Its relative position of strength would appear, perhaps, to have been affected somewhat adversely by the possibility that several of NCI’s important suppliers of patented chemical and mechanical components may soon seek other royalty outlets so as to add further increment to their patent-co