The Predator knew that Abelard would not be here but for the good graces of Milly. Neither, for that matter, would he nor any of the senior executives at VBI, had Milly not given the nod for their appointments. He could not recall a single error Milly had ever made in selecting those destined to care and feed his creation. Could this be the one? The failure of judgment. The sign that Milly might be in decline. He greatly doubted it. But he would remain cautious.
“Please go on Abe”, the low growl bringing an abrupt stop to the circling scavengers who had smelt the blood of an injured Bush. They withdrew behind masks of interest and solicitousness but remained tense, like an indecisive mob, quivering with murderous impatience, waiting to see whether it would be a fight or flight ending.
“Medieval history, particularly the One Hundred Years war….you have all heard of the One Hundred Years war?” Abelard thought to ask. Nods of yes-I’ve-heard-of-it-and-wouldn’t-admit-it-if-I-hadn’t, all around. “Yes, then, Medieval history has been a hobby of mine since, yes, since I was very small. I often gather inspiration from its events. The people who lived in this pre-enlightenment world had to be quite quick to find solutions to problems in a very difficult environment. And the first thing I do whenever I come across a tricky dilemma is to look through some of the clever campaigns of the Hundred Years War. And here, with this takeover target, we seem to have a problem which will not yield to our traditional attack strategies, Badger’s heroic attempts to find enough non-existent outstanding common shares notwithstanding.” The jackals had suddenly picked up a new scent and Badger hunting season had officially opened.
“The Castle, if no one objects to the new code word,” Abelard was looking directly at The Predator, who only a moment ago had been mentally composing an e-mail to Milly about Abelard’s dubious mental health. Now he was not so sure. What had been a silly slide with juvenile graphics was now the instrument of a brazen commander who would brook no opposition. As much as he tried to deny it, he was a bit frightened.
“Good, the Castle, as you can see,” pointing to what had quickly become an inspired picture, “is practically impregnable. It has a Poison Pill which will trigger a massive stock issue and dilute away all the potential profits of an acquirer; it has a cadre of fiercely loyal management, with a huge financial incentive to fight any attackers; it is impervious to any lenders that might try to pressure it to surrender, since it has no debt burdens; it has a practically bottomless cash well to keep it comfortably watered and; as we knew from the outset, there are not enough shares on the market for us to buy control. All in all, the kind of company we would love to take over and drain.”
Abelard did not even bother to look at The Predator, sensing in the pin-drop silence that had settled in the room, he had everyone’s complete attention. “However, in our favour, the high ground, so to speak, is poorly defended. There are suppliers we can bully to slow the flow of necessities and so create hardship in the day to day affairs of the Castle; while there is no long term debt, there are short term cash flow needs which we can squeeze through our vast network of connections, so profitable to the banks; the customers of the Castle are also, in many cases, the petrochemical concerns that are highly dependent on sales to VBI and they can be intimidated to look elsewhere until the Castle gets its new owners and; finally, there is always the possibility that the CEO, may not survive another heart attack, as the stress of battle takes its toll, leaving control in the hands of his weak daughters.”
He paused for a moment, even though he knew there would be no questions. “So, where do we go from here,” he asked, rhetorically, staring out the window, his determined profile to the audience? He had laid out a broad strategy, and now the team would have to deal with its many details. He had already decided his role and would now inform The Predator. But he must be careful. He knew that telling the boss what to do was a bit risky. But he sensed he was on solid ground, having seen the ever so slight nod of The Predator’s shaven head, a satisfied nod. He took that as tacit approval.
There were four Vice presidents in the room. “It might be best if we each prepared and executed an attack plan against the four objectives. Badger, you might want to take a crack at…,” his thought remained unspoken as Badger suddenly erupted in visible disbelief that a peer was giving him marching orders, “who the fuck do you think you are, telling us what to do?” He was definitely the only one in the room who was not yet convinced that Abelard had The Predator’s support and wanted to seize an apparent opportunity; apparent apparently to him alone.
“Shut up Badger, Abelard has been making good sense and I urge you to listen to what else he has to say,” The Predator had sealed his bargain with Abelard. Given its source, even Badger understood that he should not take the word urge at its literal meaning.
“Thank you Robbie,” acknowledging the anointment, “and Badger, please forgive me my eagerness to get this job done,” further injuring the hated Valois. “I thought,” he paused for effect, “of course if you had no objections, that you might take a stab at convincing our bankers that business with the castle would be bad for business with us. Do you think you could do that?”
Trying to recover some dignity, his clumsy attempt to apologize pushed him ever closer to extinction, “I didn’t mean to be so testy, but I’ve already got lots on my plate and…,” those buts, the big guys hate them, “thanks Valois,” last name, not a good thing coming from the boss, “please go on Abe.”
Abelard felt, after this definitive victory, that it would be best to behave more civilly towards his other peers. After all, didn’t he want to be a team player, always appreciated by the captain?
“Sam, if you’ve the time would you be able to deal with our suppliers, their customers, see what you can do to convince them that salvation lies with our side; Gardner, we may have to actually buy one or two of their suppliers if we want to starve them out; and I will look into convincing their CEO to listen to reason and agree to an honourable surrender.”
Disquiet had again returned to trouble The Predator. He felt a pressing need to reassert control of the proceedings. He raised his head, as though to sniff for danger and, in a tone much too abrupt for the occasion and more shouted than spoken, he put an end to Abelard’s presentation with, “Brilliant, this is going straight to Milly as our strategy.” He then set his hawkish gaze to the audience and in a much more familiar growl warned that, “you should be prepared to deliver the goods by mid-month.” Looking back to Abelard, he belatedly acknowledged, mostly to call attention to his leadership, “Castle is the code word for this one.”
*