“Mrs. Bacchetti has given me her proxy so I can vote her stock,” Teddy said.
The young man’s mask slipped momentarily. His smile became a scowl. “She can’t do that.”
“Of course she can,” Stone said. “Anyone can. In fact, she has always given her proxy ever since she’s been a stockholder. She can give her proxy to anyone she chooses. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve come all the way from New York for this meeting, and we only have the lunch hour to hold it. So if we could not get bogged down on parliamentary procedure, I’d like to get down to the business at hand. As I understand it, you have a matter you wish to address.”
Todd Reynolds took a breath. “Yes, I do.” He reached in his briefcase and took out stapled packets of paper. He slid them around the table in front of the stockholders. “The people I represent have compiled a cost-benefit analysis of Centurion Pictures. While it shows a profit, it is a small profit, and dependent on a fluctuating economy. They therefore propose that they take the helm of Centurion Pictures and guide it to the profitable business they are sure it can be. I hereby move that Ben Bacchetti be ousted as the head of production of Centurion Pictures and Glendale Management be installed in his place.”
“What!” Tessa cried.
“That’s outrageous!” Peter cried. “How dare you!”
“Are you serious?” Ben cried.
Only Teddy sat silent.
When the noise had died down, Todd Reynolds said, “I hereby make that motion. Do I hear a second?” He looked straight at Tessa Tweed.
Tessa looked at Teddy.
“You sure as hell do not!” Peter snapped.
“How about it, Mrs. Bacchetti? Just because the man is your husband does not make you any less responsible to the stockholders. Do I hear a second?”
“Well, now, you should be addressing me,” Teddy said, “since I hold her proxy. I must say this is a very interesting idea, and just because all the individuals involved know each other is no reason to reject it out of hand. It’s important not to rush to judgment. I therefore move we adjourn until we have had time to study your proposal.”
“You can’t do that. I already have a motion on the floor.”
“Actually,” Teddy said, “you attempted to get a motion on the floor, but it wasn’t seconded. The motion to adjourn is always in order. I so move.”
“Second,” Peter said.
“It’s been moved and seconded that we adjourn until we have time to study your proposal. I have to go back to New York, but I can be here in”—Stone consulted the calendar on his phone—“two weeks. Let’s adjourn until two weeks from today. It’s been moved and seconded that we adjourn. All in favor.”
“Aye.”
“All opposed.”
“Nay,” Todd Reynolds said.
“The ayes have it. The meeting is adjourned.”
40
Teddy, Tessa, and Ben made their way to the parking lot, Ben still fuming and incredulous.
“What the hell is going on?” Ben Bacchetti wanted to know.
“It’s a hostile takeover, just like I thought.”
“I know that,” Ben said. “I mean, what were you doing in there?”
“I bought us two weeks.”
“We don’t need two weeks—we can take care of the problem now. The guy brought a motion, you could have just voted it down.”
“Then we won’t know what’s going on, or who’s behind all of this. I want to find out who they are and deal with them so it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, but as long as we can vote them down . . .”
“They’re a pain in the ass,” Teddy said. “They don’t have a controlling interest, but they are the largest single stockholder.”
“But they’re not a single stockholder,” Ben said. “This guy represents four separate holding companies.”
“And we don’t know who their client is,” Teddy said. “I’m going to find out.”
The young man with the briefcase came out and walked across the lot.
“There’s Todd Reynolds now,” Teddy said. “Go back inside as if this was all a matter of course, and we were just talking business as usual.”
Teddy turned his back on Tessa and Ben and walked across the lot to his car. He hopped in, pulled out of the space reserved for Billy Barnett, and drove past Todd Reynolds, who was walking toward the main gate. Either his car was parked outside the lot or he had come by cab.
Todd Reynolds walked to a small sedan, got in, and drove off. Teddy followed cautiously. The young man didn’t appear to have a clue he was being tailed, but Teddy hadn’t survived this long by taking things for granted.
Todd Reynolds drove downtown and pulled into a lot next to an office building. It was a small lot, and there was no way Teddy could pull in behind him without being spotted.
There was a cop on the corner. Teddy stopped next to him, slapped a Centurion Pictures placard on the dashboard, hopped out, and said, “Watch my car.”
Sometimes it worked. If it didn’t, he’d get a ticket, a towing charge, and a hefty fine, but that was a fair trade-off.
Todd Reynolds had already gone into the building. Teddy hurried to the front door, and through the glass saw Todd Reynolds waiting for the elevator. Unfortunately, so were three other people, so Teddy wouldn’t be able to tell which floor he got off on by watching the indicator.
Teddy whipped out his wallet and opened the door just as the elevator door closed on Todd Reynolds.
Teddy ran up to the front desk. “The young man with the briefcase who just got on the elevator. Where is he going?”
The man at the desk shook his head.
“I know,” Teddy said, “you don’t give out that information. The guy just dropped his wallet.” He held it up. “I tried to catch him, but I’m not as fast as I used to be.”
“You can give it to me. I’ll see that he gets it.”
“I think not,” Teddy said. “I want to give it to him personally, with the money in it so he can see that it’s all there. I’m sure he’ll be grateful.”
“You think he’ll give you a tip,” the guard said.
“And you think he’ll give you one. But you didn’t run two blocks with the damn thing. Come on. You have the register there. Look the guy up and tell me where he works.”