“That’s too bad, Wayne. I’ll just have to place the security on the market. I should have known this was too big a deal for your firm.”
“No, no, that’s not it.”
Landers brought his breathing under control. “Then what is it?”
“The discount’s too small.”
“It’s a friggin’ two percent discount. You gotta be kidding me. How much do you bandits want?”
Summers replied, “Five percent.”
“What? Forget it. I’m tired of dealing with your pissant company. I’ve got twenty other firms who will kiss my ass to do this deal.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. There’s no way you’ll be able to lay off this security to another investment house by November 30th. That’s two days from now. We’re ready to do it for five percent.”
“Three percent.”
“Not enough. Make it four and we have a deal.”
“We’ll go three-and-a-half, but that’s it. And I expect closing to take place no later than tomorrow at 10 a.m.”
“You told me the end of the month.”
“Yeah. I also told you we’d discount the security by two percent. Take it or leave it.” Lander held his breath as he sensed the tension coming over the line from Summers. Probably calculating his commission, he thought.
Summers apparently couldn’t help himself as he whistled a breath through the phone. “We’ll take it.”
Lander recited the information Summers would need to wire transfer—after deducting the underwriting fee and the discount points—the two billion-plus sum to Sunrise Casualty Insurance.
“I’ll need the CUSIP number,” Summers said. Then he added, “By the way, all of our real estate transactions are handled through Fortis Title & Guaranty.”
Lander’s heart seemed to stop. He’d been told that the transaction had to close through a company named First Fidelity Philadelphia Title Guaranty Company. The way these deals usually closed was through a title company which held the money from the buyer in escrow, verified all the documents, ensured the title on the underlying properties, and then disbursed monies to the seller. He figured that one title company was as good as another, and was about to tell Summers that Fortis Title & Guaranty would be fine. But, at the last second, he remembered that Tennucci’s man had made it clear that First Fidelity would close the transaction. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and said, “You know, I really get tired of you guys pushing on every aspect of every deal. We have our own title company which has already issued title binders on all the properties. This will close through First Fidelity Philadelphia or it won’t close at all.”
“Jeez, you don’t have to get your back up,” Summers said. “I’m sure your title company will be just fine.”
“Good. I’ll provide the security’s CUSIP number to the title company. They’ll send it over with the closing package.”
After he ended the call, Lander collapsed into a chair in the employee lounge and tried to calm his breathing. He’d been worried about the CUSIP number from the beginning. Every registered security in the United States had an identifying number that consisted of a combination of nine characters, both letters and numbers, which acted as a sort of DNA for the security, uniquely identifying the company or issuer and the type of security. There was no way he would be able to give Summers a legitimate CUSIP number. The minute Summers tried to verify the CUSIP code, he’d know the Sunrise Casualty Insurance security was bogus.
Lander had barely brought his breathing under control when his burner phone rang. “Lander,” he answered.
“Did you have the conversation?”
“Yes. It went just as you said it would. They’re on board for a three-and-a-half percent discount.”
Bruno laughed. “Greedy bastards, aren’t they?”
“Listen, I didn’t want Summers to think I was too easy, so I told him they had to close by tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Brilliant,” Bruno said.
“I was afraid you might be angry.”
“Angry? I’m ecstatic.”
“He asked about the CUSIP code,” Lander said.
“No surprise there. If the money is transferred at ten, everything will be fine.”
“But what if they wait to transfer funds until after they receive and verify the CUSIP?”
“That’s what they should do. But I don’t think they will. Don’t worry, Dave. It’ll be fine. Anything else?”
“Yes. He wanted to use a title company in New York. I told him that was unacceptable, and gave him the First Fidelity Philadelphia name.”
“Good job.”
“I gotta tell you, I’m not familiar with that company.”
“That’s all right. Like I said, everything will be fine.”
Wayne Summers felt as though he was floating as he took the elevator to the executive floor. He stopped at Richard Stone’s receptionist’s desk and was about to tell her he needed to see her boss, but the woman smiled and said, “He’s expecting you. Go right in.”
Summers felt a comfortable wave of warmth flow through him. This was surely a better reception than the one he’d received when he was last on this level. He tried to whistle as he marched down to Stone’s office, but his mouth was too dry. He knocked on Stone’s door and waited.
“Come in,” boomed from behind the door.
Summers pushed the door open and approached Stone’s desk.
“Do we have a deal?” Stone asked.
“Yes, sir,” Summers said in a squeaky voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, sir. Everything went exactly as you said it would. We got a three-and-a-half percent discount. The only change is that they want to close by 10 a.m. tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?”
“To save face, I guess. We got everything we demanded. I think my contact didn’t want to look like he’d completely caved. Oh, and he wants to use their own title company.”
Stone laughed. “No big deal. Any title company underwritten by one of the big insurers will do. And the closing date’s not a problem. We already have commitments from investors for the entire two point four billion dollars’ worth of bonds. Our money will only be tied up for twenty-four hours.”
Stone stood and came around his desk. The dour expression he usually wore was now replaced with a Cheshire cat smile. He stuck out his hand. “Nice work, young man. You just made a name for yourself. In addition to our underwriting fee of twenty-four million, we’ll pick up eighty-four million in discount points. A cool one hundred and eight million.”
Bruno joined Louis Massarino in his home office and told him the deal was on and closing the next morning.
“Good,” Massarino said. “When will the messenger deliver the documents?”
“Nine o’clock sharp.”
Bruno and Jesse put the finishing touches on the bond documents, including the signatures of the Sunrise Casualty Insurance President and Chief Financial Officer. Each man’s signature had been copied from letters to shareholders in the company’s annual reports. The bonds themselves were also fabricated from bond documents they’d clipped from the Internet, including Sunrise’s corporate logo and seal. When he was satisfied with document quality, Bruno placed the corporate officers’ signatures on the back side of the bonds on the “Transferor” lines, but left the “Transferee” lines blank. Rosen, Rice & Stone could sign there whenever they chose to do so.