Billionaire Beast

He says that right up until we come out of the elevator and he sees the cameras waiting out front.

“It’s up to you,” I tell him. “Today, you can either be the hero to your company’s bank account or you can make KJBP the station that cares. Do me a favor and give your boss a call. I’m willing to bet he says that a positive image is better for the growth of a company than a fatter bankroll.”

Actually, I’m betting his boss is going to say the exact opposite. I’m not delusional.

Luckily for me, though, Andrew doesn’t know any better.

This is almost too easy.

“I don’t know what I would say even if I did go along with it,” he says.

“Mags?” I ask, and my lovely assistant pulls a folder from her oversized purse and hands it to me.

“I took the liberty of preparing a statement for you,” I tell him. “I think you’ll find it rather flattering to you and your bosses. By the way, Mags, did you tell them to turn on their televisions? They’re probably going to want to see this.”

This shouldn’t work, and if I were talking to anyone with more experience handling the press, it wouldn’t. Andrew, though, seems to think that the media cares a lot more about this sort of thing than they actually do.

I may have forgotten to mention that to him...

“This is going to get me fired,” he says. “I can’t turn down better deals from bigger companies just to try to avoid some personal embarrassment. I don’t know who you think I am, but my job is to do what’s best for the company.”

“They sent you out here with real bargaining rights, didn’t they?” I ask. “What were the terms of your acceptance?”

“Take your offer and multiply it by about 50,” he says. “Do you really think a shot of me walking out of this building without giving you a deal is going to outweigh half a billion dollars?”

Actually, no, I don’t. This is a fool’s errand, and the most likely scenario is that I participate in humiliating a somewhat decent guy doing what anyone in his position would do.

“I think you’re more concerned with your public image than you think,” I tell him. “I think you know that even if you do go for your half a billion, you’re not going to have a job waiting for you when you get back there. They’ll tell you that it’s just politics and they’ll blame me for it just like you will, but they’re not going to be able to keep you on when that video’s playing over and over again on the internet.”

“You think I’m going to make a deal with you just to preserve my job at KJBP?” he asks. “Do you really think they’re not going to fire me if I throw away 490 million dollars?”

“Oh, they’re probably going to fire you either way,” I tell him. “If you go out there and read this, it’ll probably be your last act as an employee of KJBP, but the damage will be done and they’ll fold. They’ll have to because you made the deal. They might try to weasel out of it, but that doesn’t matter. We may not be big yet, but we’ve still got about a dozen lawyers more than you do. No matter what you do, you’re going to get fired, but read this and I think we might be able to find something for you at M.E.”

“This is blackmail. This isn’t remotely legal.”

“What are they going to do, throw me in jail?” I ask, and give out a nice, wet cough just for effect.

If Andrew opens his mouth, they’re absolutely going to throw me in jail. I’m not a month or two from the scythe; I’ve still got about another decade at least — assuming the treatment doesn’t kill me faster than the disease.

“Come on,” I tell him. “This is the deal that’s going to give you and KJBP a good name in the biggest market that you’ve ever known. There’s not another deal in the world that’s going to give you that.”

If you pay attention to the world of business, you’ll find that having a good name is one of the least important things there is. A bad name can be offset by good PR, and people have always respected power more than they’ve respected honor or decency — not to say that what I’m trying to do to Andrew is either honorable or decent.

There’s an easy out for him if he knew enough to use it: he could go out there and say a few words that would be respectful, but noncommittal. If he were to go out there and tell the press that he’s been working with me for years and that he’s going to see what he can do to sell a deal with his board and from there, all he’d have to do is wait for the big money announcement.

Nobody’s going to remember him in a week, no matter what he chooses to do.

Luckily for me, he’s too flustered at the sight of the cameras outside to think about any of that.

“And if I just go out the back?” he asks.

“They’ll track you down. I’ll make sure of that.” I turn to Mags, saying, “When do you think the reporters from upstairs are going to get down here?”

“Seriously, why are you doing this to me?” he asks.

“Just trying to help convince you to do the right thing,” I tell him.

There is no reason for him to go for what I’m offering, but after laying it on this thick, there’s just the slightest chance that he might do the dumb thing and give me exactly what I want.