"Bruce Holland Rogers - An Eye For Acquisitions" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rogers Bruce Holland)

 Vriner hung up and smiled at Siegel. "The poor stiff is so out of it that he doesn't know enough to be
scared."
"Where in the hell did they get these colors?" Siegel said as he rode the elevator with Vriner. From the
outside, the corporate headquarters for WWW Service and Supply had been ordinary enough-blue glass
and black steel. The outer lobby, too, was standard and conservative, if surprisingly empty-an open, tiled
atrium with a security station absent of security guards. But beyond the public face of WWW, the carpets
and wall coverings were sickly shades of green and rust, colors that made the air seem stale and thick.
The inside of the elevator was the color of bread mold.
"That'll be the second thing that I get rid of," Vriner said, tapping the elevator wall.
"The first, presumably, is Moscarón."
"I'm not going to have someone so simple-minded running any company of mine."
"He does seem to have a Senator in his pocket, from what you say."
"Anybody who's rich enough can do that if he cares to."
"Don't kid yourself."
Moscarón's office was on the top floor, but it was hardly what Vriner expected in an executive suite.
Flames flickered in the fireplace near Moscarón's desk, and the room was stuffy with stale smoke-not
wood smoke, but something more rancid, like the smoke from burnt hair. The fluorescent lights seemed
ordinary enough, but they cast a dim light that didn't quite illuminate the corners of the expansive room.
"My time is short," Moscarón said. "Come, sit, and tell me what this is about."
"What this is about," said Vriner, staying on his feet as Siegel sat down, "is my holding company's offer
for a controlling share of WWW Service and Supply. I told you I have an eye for acquisitions,
Moscarón. I also have a pretty good idea of what constitutes an irresistible price. We're buying you out
at thirty-two dollars a share."
"I see," Moscarón said. "Well, it's out of the question. The company is not for sale."
"We'll see what your shareholders have to say about that. I want you to produce, by tomorrow, a list
of your owners."
"This company's shareholders," Moscarón said, "are very private people. I'm sure they don't want me
passing out their names and addresses to anyone who asks. Now I have things to do tonight. You will
excuse me."
Vriner laughed, and Siegel said, "You have a fiduciary responsibility to your shareholders to let us
make our offer known to them. Failure to live up to that responsibility will land you in civil court."
"I'm a shareholder, too," Vriner said. "My interests are your interests. Or they had better be."
Moscarón shook his head. "I don't want a court battle just now. I haven't made arrangements for that
sort of thing. But I don't think you understand who you are dealing with. You say, Mr. Vriner, that you
have an eye for acquisitions. Perhaps you do. But in this case, your eye has misled you. Our
shareholders..."
Something moved in the dark corner behind Moscarón.
"What's that?" said Siegel.
"An owl," Moscarón said, and Vriner could now see it in the shadows, a small owl on a tall perch.
Its eyes glinted from the darkness.
"I don't want excuses," Vriner told Moscarón. "I want that list tomorrow."
"All right," said Moscarón. "You'll have your list." He opened a confection box and pushed it toward
Siegel. "Would you care to try one of these?"
"We're taking over your company and you're offering us chocolates?" Vriner said.
"You might as well know something about what you're trying to take over."
Vriner waved off the offer, but Siegel accepted.
On their way out of the building, Vriner said, "You see what I mean about this guy? He just doesn't get
it."
Siegel didn't answer. He was fishing around in his mouth with his tongue, and finally he gagged and
reached in with his fingers. He drew out a long, long black hair. Tied to the end of it was a wet little