“I think it’s very exciting,” she replied. “Stone is slightly less enthusiastic.”
“Not at all,” Stone said. “I’m just accustomed to having more information before I advise a client to make an investment.”
“As I told Stone,” Larsen said, “I am the only person outside the company who has all the facts, and since it’s crucial to keep the news of this software a secret until the company is ready to announce it, I simply can’t tell anyone anything that isn’t in the prospectus, and I promise you, very few people have seen that.”
“I understand completely,” Mitzi said. “And when do you think the announcement will be made?”
“In no more than ninety days,” Larsen said.
“And what would you anticipate the stock price will do at that time?”
“That’s when the initial public offering would be made,” Larsen said, “and I believe it will at least triple on the first day of the offering. It’s going to be the hottest thing since Google.”
“Is the software in beta yet?” Stone asked.
“It finished beta testing yesterday,” Larsen said, “and the results were fantastic-very few bugs for a brilliant new program. The next three months will be devoted to organizing the IPO and slipping subtle hints to the trade and business press to create a high level of buzz.”
“And at what level will the stock be offered?” Stone asked. He turned his head slightly so that his earbug would capture their voices clearly.
“Somewhere in the fifty to seventy-five range, probably,” Larsen replied. “You could make a bundle, Mitzi, by selling on the first day.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Mitzi said.
“And at what level would you like to participate?” Larsen asked.
“I’ll take a hundred thousand shares,” she replied, removing an alligator checkbook from her handbag and opening it. “At fifty dollars a share. Do you have a pen, Sig?”
Larsen nearly broke an arm extracting a pen from his jacket pocket and handing it to her. “I will get you that price,” he said. “I must say, I had expected a cashier’s check.”
“You think my personal check isn’t good, Sig?” Mitzi asked, gazing at him across the table.
“Of course I don’t thi
nk that, Mitzi; I’ll just have to wait until the check clears before having the stock issued to you.”
“Well, that will take only a few days,” Mitzi said. “To whom shall I make the check?”
“Larsen Enterprises,” Sig replied.
“Not directly to the company?”
“I’ll have to move your money through my firm and issue my own check to the company, since its name must remain secret. I shouldn’t think it would be more than four or five days before I can issue the stock.”
Mitzi wrote a check for five million dollars and noted “100,000 shares” on it. “Let’s be clear,” she said. “This is for shares in the company that you described in the prospectus, not in Larsen Enterprises.”
“Of course it is,” Sig said, looking at the check. “A Charleston bank?”
“I don’t have a New York account yet,” Mitzi said. “Perhaps you could suggest a bank here?”
“I work with half a dozen,” Larsen said, “mostly small, privately owned banks. I should think that for your purposes one of the big banks, Morgan Chase, perhaps, would be fine. Just pick a branch near your home.”
“Thank you. I may do just that,” Mitzi replied.
Their eggs arrived, and Mitzi and Stone began to eat.
Conversation seemed to pall, and Larsen and Sharpe seemed a bit antsy.
Larsen consulted his wristwatch. “Oh, Derek and I have another appointment downtown in half an hour,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if we leave you to your breakfast.” They stood up and hands were shaken. “You’re going to be a very happy woman in three months,” Larsen said. “Bye, now. Bye, Stone.”