Chương 139: Book 4 - Chapter 17 B

We spent the next week in a blur of holiday preparations. I helped Mattie decorate the fifteen-foot tree in the communal living space, using the laser pointer to keep Max from running off with each ornament as she or Mom placed it. Later I sat with Grandpa in his office, listening to him talk about the early days before the hotel business while he drank Maker's Mark and shared his prized collection of odd and old coins and bills rescued from the Safeway cash register.

As Christmas approached, the tension started to creep back in. I spent my nights on the MicroTAC, checking in with Dr Agnew at GA and the team at Satsop. The carbon-capture fabric was holding, the diamond fabricators were humming and the gasoline converter had been successfully tested. The fuel stored on site for January 1st. On the morning of the 22nd, I found Dad in the living room of the family apartment, watching WBN. I sat next to him to watch.

The news anchor on the screen was a sharp-featured woman in a power suit, sitting in front of a blue-tinted graphic of a sinking ship labeled ARCO.

"Good morning. I am Sarah Jenkins for World Business Network," she began, her tone professional but edged with the kind of scrutiny that only comes when a newsroom thinks the boss is in trouble.

"As 1989 draws to a close, the financial world is witnessing what can only be described as the fastest retreat in corporate history. Five months ago, the wonder-kid, Dr John Cook shocked the markets by purchasing Atlantic Richfield for a staggering $30 billion. Today, he seems to be selling off the furniture just to keep the lights on." The screen cut to a scrolling list of corporate logos.

"The liquidations have been swift and brutal," she continued.

"Koch Industries has finalized the purchase of the West Coast refineries and Sunoco is moving in on the midstream pipelines. Valero and Chevron are reportedly split on the remaining drilling leases and crude inventory. Analysts at Goldman Sachs suggest that Cook is clearing nearly $28 billion in assets. When you factor in the 12. 6% interest on his original massive debt, it looks less like a strategy and more like a desperate fire sale."

She turned to her co-anchor, a man named Marcus who leaned forward with a cynical smile.

"Marcus, Heartland Media is also under the Cook umbrella. That includes us here at WBN. If he is this deep in the hole, does he have to sell the network to pay for the oil?"

"It is a fair question, Sarah," Marcus replied.

"The silence from the executive suite has been deafening. John Cook hasn't been seen in public since the purchase of ARCO in August. If he can't service the remaining debt on what is left of ARCO, Heartland Media is his most liquid non-energy asset. I wouldn't be surprised if we have a new boss by this time next year. The boy who bought the world seems to have realized he can't afford the payments."

I was happy to see that they had the balls to talk about the boss and my staying a step removed had kept their editorial freedom intact. Despite what they were saying, it was good for the long term of the channel. Best of all, it was confirming the narrative I needed. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"They think you're losing, John," Dad said, his eyes on the screen.

"I want them to think that, Dad," I replied, relaxing back into the overstuffed couch.

"I think I'm close enough that it might be safe to tell you the secret." Dad looked at me, a proud but wary expression on his face.

"I'll wait like everybody else, John. Don't take risks before your victory lap. Just remember what I told you. Don't let the mission kill the man. You've got three days until Christmas. Give the future a rest." I nodded, but my mind was already in Washington.

"I'm heading out on the 26th, Dad," I said quietly.

"I won't be back for the New Year's Eve party. It'll be a while before I can settle down again after my announcement, but I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Just make sure you come back. Your Mom will have a lot of pumpkin pie waiting for you in the freezer." I was sitting in my Eames chair staring at the Christmas lights on the buildings out my bedroom window. It had started out as child sized when Mom bought it for me when we moved into the family level. I was outgrowing it, but it was still my favorite chair. When the cellphone in my lap rang, I flipped it open and answered.

"Go ahead, Martin," I said, checking the time. It was late in New York, but he never seemed to sleep when a deal was closing.

"Did you see the WBN report?" Martin asked first thing, his voice crackling with a triumphant energy.

"They are practically writing your obituary over here. They think you are bleeding out."

"I saw it," I said and leaned back in the chair.

"They think I'm desperate. It is exactly the cover I wanted. But give me the real numbers, Martin. I'm tired of the fiction."

"The fiction is for the masses. The reality is much better," Martin replied. I could hear him pouring a drink in the background.

"We closed the Valero and Chevron bids two hours ago. They were so hungry for those drilling leases that they overbid our internal estimates by four hundred million each. After we settle the midstream deals on the 31st, your total asset liquidation will hit $29. 2 billion." I did the math in my head before he could finish.

"So the principal on the ARCO loan is down to $800 million."

"Exactly. And your total liability across the board is sitting at $3. 55 billion. But John, you still have that $2. 2 billion in the cushion fund. You are essentially carrying a net debt of $1. 35 billion while owning the largest retail gas network in the country and a technology that makes the assets we just sold look like firewood."

"What is the new monthly payment?" I asked.

"At the current 12. 6% rate, you are looking at just under $38 million a month for the total $3. 55 billion. But that is why I'm calling. Now that the risk profile has changed from 'insane gamble' to 'most successful liquidation in history,' we can refinance. If we roll this over into a standard commercial loan, I can get you down to 10% or even 9. 5%. That would save you over ten million dollars a month in interest alone."

"Not yet," I said and watched a plane descend toward the airport in the distance.

"I want the world to keep thinking I'm broke for another ten days. If I refinance now, it leaks to the SEC and the narrative changes too soon."

"You're the boss," Martin laughed.

"But John, just so you know, your ampm stores are already netting thirty million a week. You could pay the interest on the whole debt just by selling hot dogs and soda. You've won. You know that, right?"

"I'll know I've won on January 1st," I said.

"Keep the paperwork ready for the refinance, but don't file a thing until I give the word. I want to do it at the right time, and I won't know when that is until it arrives."

"Understood. Merry Christmas, John. Try to enjoy the holiday. You're the richest 'bankrupt' man in the world." I hung up and looked back at the lights. The debt was managed. The technical checks were green. A Christmas at $51, 000 an hour was an early gift.