Protg

1 Christian Gillette strode purposefully down the long main corridor of Everest Capital, the Manhattan-based investment firm he ran. "Christian." Gillette ignored the voice calling him from behind. "Christian!" Louder this time, but Gillette still didn't stop. He glanced over at his assistant, Debbie, pen and pad in hand. She was struggling to keep up. "Mr. Chairman!" Faraday huffed, finally catching up with Gillette, and grabbing him by the back of the arm. Faraday was second in command at Everest. A talented money raiser from Great Britain who had an Outlook full of high-level connections in the Wall Street world. His accent was heavy, though he'd been in the States for fifteen years. "Wait a minute." "Morning, Nigel," Gillette said politely. "A fucking magnificent pleasure to see you, too," Faraday muttered, breathing hard. He inhaled ice cream constantlyto fight stress, he claimedbut he'd been thirty pounds overweight since graduating from Eton. Long before he'd ever dealt with the pressures of a private equity investment firm. "I sent you three e-mails this morning," he grumbled. "You haven't replied to any of them." "No time." "One of them was extremely important." "I'll get to it when I can." Faraday scowled. "I'm the number two person here, Christian. I need access to you." Gillette jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "I've got three conference rooms waiting for me. A guy representing the Wallace Family in One, one of our accounting firms in Two, and" "The Chicago Wallaces?" "Yeah." "Jesus, they're worth like twenty double-large." Following Gillette's lead, people at Everest sometimes referred to a million as "large" and a billion as "double-large." "More than that." "But they keep to themselves," Faraday continued. "They don't talk to other investors. I've been trying to get to them for years, to have them invest with us. But nothing, not even a return phone call. They're very secretive." "I know." Faraday hesitated, waiting for an explanation that didn't come. "Well, what do they want?" "To hire you." "Really?" Faraday leaned back, putting a chubby, pale hand on his chest. "No, not really," Gillette answered, grinning. Faraday sighed. "Well, what do they want?" "I'll tell you this afternoon at three, when we're scheduled to meet." "But I have to talk to you now." "All right," Gillette said, giving in. "Talk." "Hey, it's fucking good news. I thought you'd want to hear right away." Good news was always a welcome interruption. "What you got?" "Two more commitments to the new fund," Faraday explained. "I got an e-mail late last night from the California Teachers Pension. They're in for six hundred large. And North America Guaranty agreed to invest one double-large five minutes ago." Faraday broke into a proud smile. &amFrey, Stephen is the author of 'Protg ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780345480590 and ISBN 0345480597.