“And how’s that?” asked Townsend.
“By offering him preference shares—our stock in exchange for his.”
“But that would simply be a reverse takeover. He’d never agree to it, especially if Armstrong has already offered him two billion in cash.”
“If he has, God knows where he’s getting it from,” said Tom. “Why don’t I have a word with their lawyers and see if I can find out if Armstrong really has made a cash offer?”
“No. That’s not the right approach. Don’t forget that Sinclair owns the entire company himself, so it makes a lot more sense to deal with him direct. That’s what Armstrong will have done.”
“But that’s hardly your usual style.”
“I realize that. But it’s become rare for me lately to be able to deal with anyone who owns their own company.”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “So, what do you know about Sinclair?”
“He’s seventy,” said Townsend, “which is why he’s retiring. In his lifetime he’s built up the most successful privately-owned media corporation in the world. He was the Ambassador to the Court of St. James’s when his friend Nixon was president, and in his spare time he’s put together one of the finest private collections of Impressionist paintings outside a national gallery. He’s also chairman of a charitable foundation which specializes in education, and somehow he still finds time to play golf.”
“Good. And what do you imagine Sinclair knows about you?”
“That I’m Australian by birth, run the second-largest media company in the world, prefer Nolan to Renoir, and don’t play golf.”
“So how do you intend to approach
him?”
“Cut out the bullshit, call him direct and make an offer. At least that way I won’t spend years wondering if I might have pulled it off.” Townsend looked across at his lawyer, but Tom made no comment.
Townsend picked up the phone. “Heather, get me Multi Media headquarters in Colorado. And when they come on, connect me to the operator.” He replaced the receiver.
“Do you really believe that Armstrong has put in a bid for two billion?” asked Tom.
Townsend considered the question for some time. “Yes, I do.”
“But where would he find that amount of cash?”
“Wherever he found the money to pay off the unions would be my guess.”
“And how much do you intend to offer?”
The phone on the desk rang before he could answer.
“Is that Multi Media?”
“Yes, sir,” replied a deep Southern voice.
“My name is Keith Townsend,” he said. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Sinclair.”
“Does Ambassador Sinclair know you, sir?”
“I hope so,” said Townsend. “Otherwise I’m wasting my time.”
“I’ll put you through to his office.”
Townsend made a sign to his lawyer that he should listen in on the extension. Tom picked up the phone on the side table next to him.
“Ambassador Sinclair’s office,” said another Southern voice.
“It’s Keith Townsend. I was rather hoping I might be able to have a word with Mr. Sinclair.”