Terminal Value by Thomas Waite Page A

he’s very good. But I’ve been around the block a few times, guys. I know what happens in business when companies get bought. I know about Art Williams and his reputation. Promises get broken because the people who made them have new bosses. Personal integrity goes out the window when big money comes in the door. I’ve got a lot of good people out there who have been working their asses off for me for practically nothing. They get paid peanuts, and hell, even the secretary owns a bunch of stock. They’re like family to me. I owe them everything, and I want to be damn sure they get the riches they deserve.” Joe stopped his pacing and looked directly from Dylan to Tony. “So tell me. Do I have your personal guarantee to help me make that happen?”
    Dylan composed himself, stood up, and tried not to think of the fact that he was already pretty stretched. The important thing was that the Hyperfōn work would be done—and done by the best. He could put the IPO aside; he would figure out how to make it all work. “You have my word, Joe. We’re gonna help you rock the world and nuke your competition.”
    Joe paused for a moment and then laughed. “I’m a pacifist, Dylan, so I’ll just stick with rocking the world. What about you, Tony?”
    Tony stood up as well. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this revolution for anything!”
    â€œAll right then. Just keep your heads firmly attached to your shoulders—all right?”
    â€œWe will,” Tony and Dylan said in unison.
    â€œWell, thanks for coming by, boys,” he said shaking their hands. “And I look forward to seeing you both again real soon.”
    Tony and Dylan left Joe’s office and walked back across the open space. As the elevator doors closed, Tony turned to Dylan and grinned.
    â€œSee what I mean? Piece of cake.”
    But something in his tone raised a concern in Dylan’s mind. He mulled over Joe’s cryptic comment about Art Williams. A sideways glance told him Tony apparently thought nothing of it. Dylan realized this was a situation to keep a close eye on.
    * * *
    April 6, 11:45 a.m. Boston
    Dylan and Tony drove separately to MobiCelus’s former headquarters. Dylan headed across the Fort Point Channel towards the converted warehouse, not far from what was now the booming seaport area of the city. He pulled into his parking space in the garage, entered the old freight elevator, and hit the button for the fourth floor. The elevator jumped and then slowly creaked its way up. Dylan marveled at the difference between this elevator and the one at Mantric’s office in Manhattan, and yet he felt a comfortable closeness with this old one. He knew that once the lease was up, Mantric would dump this property. He already missed the slow churning of the elevator.
    The smell of fresh paint lingered in the building, a reminder of the cosmetic revamping that had occurred in the weeks following the acquisition. More vivid reminders were the new faces that ignored him as he crossed the floor.
    Dylan walked past Tony’s workspace—a jumble of computers, mobile devices, and assorted electronic toys scattered everywhere. That at least was the same, but only because Tony had no interest in redecorating it.
    Dylan turned the corner. “Hey, Dylan,” Sarah Forrester called from her new desk outside his office. “Christine wants to see you. Pronto.” Before the acquisition, Sarah had been receptionist, office manager, and support person for all four MobiCelus partners. Now she was Dylan and Rob’s personal assistant in the Boston office. Even though Rob had technically moved over to Mantric and had a New York office, he retained an office in Boston.
    â€œThanks.” Dylan sat at his desk and turned on his computer. As he waited for it to boot up, he checked his voice-mail on the speakerphone.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Johnson,” said a chipper