Free Terminal Value by Thomas Waite Page B

settled in a cubicle at the other end of the building. Tony tossed a wad of paper in the air and, as he caught it, his attention was drawn to the closed door of his office. A thin strip of light oozed out under the door. Tony stopped. He never closed the door of his office, even when he left for a prolonged length of time. The few personal items that he considered his own never left his possession, so there was no reason to close the office door.
    He approached quietly and placed his ear against the door. Inside he heard the sound of papers being shuffled. He placed his fingers on the doorknob and turned it, very slowly. As it opened, he saw a man bending over the desk, rifling through the right-hand drawer. Tony opened the door wider until he stood in the office.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?”
    The man shot up straight and spun around. Sandeep Nigam stood facing Tony, unable to speak.
    â€œDid you hear me? What the hell are you doing?” Tony demanded.
    â€œI—I, was looking for some paper clips.” Sandeep’s eyes darted around the room, perhaps searching for an escape.
    â€œThat is the worst excuse I have ever heard.” He pointed to a small dish on the desk. “What do you think those silver things in the ashtray are? Staples?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t see them.” He picked up two paper clips and placed them in his pocket.
    â€œWhat’s this really about, Sandeep? You’re no more looking for paper clips than I am!”
    Sandeep stood up. “No, no! Really, I just needed some paper clips. Thank you very much.” He backed against the wall and sidled like a crab until he got to the door, where he spun around and hurried away.
    Tony watched Sandeep scramble down the hall and then turned and looked back at his desk. He moved his hands across the papers that lay scattered in every direction until he found a crumpled yellow sheet of paper, which he thrust into his pocket. He reached into the right-hand drawer and retrieved a key that he tossed in the air and caught. A deep frown furrowed Tony’s forehead. This is so wrong, he thought. This was the first time he ever even considered locking his office, much less actually doing it. He turned off the light and walked into the hallway, turned around and locked the door. Yeah, this is so wrong, he thought again.
    * * *
    April 19, 5:00 p.m. Boston
    Sandeep reached his office and slammed the door shut. He leaned against it and raised his head, staring at the ceiling. As the embarrassment and fear subsided, anger began a slow climb up his spine. He paced from the door to the windows, then made a large circle around the room, ending up at his desk. He yanked the chair out from under the desk and flopped down.
    â€œDamn!” he said out loud. “How stupid am I? I should have waited until I knew he was definitely gone. I know he wants my job. He wants to be in the driver’s seat and see me out in the cold. I am not going to have that happen to me. I don’t care what I have to do to prevent him from taking over. I have not worked this long to lose out at this point.” Sandeep looked at his watch. Six p.m. He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, considering his options.

Chapter 8
    April 20, 7:00 a.m. New York
    Art and Christine met at the New York office early on that Wednesday, getting ready to start the road show. They reviewed their schedule: first London, where most American companies went to warm up, before returning to America at the end of the week. They hoped to attract a few European investors and were confident their presentations would be well received by the investment banks. They would then continue with the second half of the road show, beginning with San Francisco and Los Angeles, then Chicago and Dallas, and finally working their way east to Boston and New York. Satisfied they had not discounted any important stops, Art called the airport for their private