It was the first day of May 1940.
Elias Thorne was back in New York. He sat at his large, polished desk, but he felt out of place. His trip to Ohio had changed him. He had looked a desperate man in the eyes and, with a few strokes of a pen, had saved his life. He had been a rescuer.
Now, he was about to be an executioner.
He had been back for two days. The signed acquisition papers for Axelrod Precision Machining were in the bank's new vault. The deal was done. Continental, an investment bank that had existed for less than three months, now owned 100% of a small, vital, industrial factory.
Elias, Arthur, and Julian Graves were in the main conference room. The mood was heavy.
"The acquisition was clean, Elias. You did well," Arthur said. He was sitting at the end of the table, as usual, in the lowest-status chair. "You were the perfect 'honest lawyer.' You saved Karl Axelrod."
"I did," Elias said. His voice was firm. "I gave him a fair price. I saved his company and his family. My part of this deal is done."
"Your first part," Arthur corrected him.
Elias looked up, a sharp feeling of dread in his stomach. "What do you mean? I thought... I thought Julian was handling the 'merger'?"
Julian Graves, who had been impatiently drumming his fingers on the table, leaned forward. "That's right. I'm ready. Give me the phone. I'll call those arrogant engineers in Seattle and I'll—"
"No," Arthur said.
Julian stopped, his mouth open.
"You will not be making the call, Julian," Arthur said. "Elias will."
Elias felt his blood run cold. "What? No! I will not! That was not the agreement. I was the rescuer. I was the good man. You," he said, pointing at Julian, "were supposed to be the 'bad man.' You were the one who would make the threats."
"And you will not be making a threat, Elias," Arthur said calmly. "You will be stating a fact."
Arthur stood up and walked to the window. He looked down at the busy street. "Think about it. If Mr. Graves here makes the call, what does he sound like? He sounds like a New York banker. He sounds aggressive. He sounds... exactly like what they expect. They will get defensive. They will hang up. It will be a fight."
He turned back to face the room. "But you, Elias. You are the honest lawyer. You are the president of the bank. You are a calm, reasonable, older man. A call from you is not a threat. It is a simple, boring, legal notification."
Arthur's eyes were cold. "It is scarier."
Elias looked at Arthur, horrified. The boy's mind was a maze of traps. He was right. A polite, calm call from an honest man, delivering terrible news, was far more terrifying than a shark like Julian shouting.
"This is..." Elias said, "this is cruel, Arthur."
"This is leverage," Arthur said. "We have spent a quarter of a million dollars to get this leverage. We will not waste it by being emotional. You will call Mr. Philip Johnson, the President of Boeing. You will be polite. You will be professional. And you will tell him the new reality."
"What... what do I say?" Elias asked. His hands were shaking.
"You will say," Arthur dictated, "Good morning, Mr. Johnson. This is Elias Thorne, President of the Continental Investment Bank in New York. We are calling to inform you of a change in your supply chain. As of two days ago, we have acquired 100% of Axelrod Precision Machining in Ohio."
Arthur paused. "Then, you will be silent. You will let him absorb that information. He will probably ask you what you want. And you will say this..."
Arthur's voice was quiet, but it filled the room. "You will say: 'I am the new owner of your landing gear supplier. I think we should have that meeting now.'"
It was the exact line from Arthur's original plan.
Elias was trapped. He was the president of the bank. This was his job. He could not refuse. He looked at Julian, but Julian was just watching with a look of cold, professional respect. Julian was learning.
Slowly, Elias reached for the telephone on the conference table. "Mrs. Gable," he said into the receiver, his voice dry. "Get me the main office of The Boeing Company in Seattle, Washington. I need to speak to Mr. Philip Johnson."
The next five minutes were the longest of Elias's life. The room was completely silent. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Elias, Arthur, and Julian just sat there, waiting.
Finally, the light on the phone blinked. Elias picked it up.
"Mr. Johnson. Thank you for taking my call," Elias said. His voice was surprisingly steady. He was a good lawyer, and this was, in its own way, a performance.
"My name is Elias Thorne. I am the President of the Continental Investment Bank in New York."
He paused, listening.
"No, I am afraid this is not a social call. We are calling to inform you of a change in your supply chain."
Elias took a deep breath. "As of April 28th, 1940, our bank has acquired 100% ownership of Axelrod Precision Machining in Ohio."
Elias said nothing for almost thirty seconds. He just listened. He held the phone away from his ear slightly, and Arthur could hear the faint sound of a man's voice rising in anger.
Julian was smiling.
Elias waited patiently for the man on the other end to finish shouting.
"Yes. I understand your frustration," Elias said, his voice still perfectly calm. "However, the deal is done. We are the new owners."
He listened again.
"As for our... intentions. That is what I am calling to discuss. As I said to your team in March, we are interested in a partnership. We believe we can solve your financial problems."
Another pause. The voice on the other end was clipped and angry.
"Yes. You did say no," Elias said. "But the situation has changed."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a firm, cold, professional tone. "Mr. Johnson. I am the new owner of your landing gear supplier. I think we should have that meeting now."
The silence on the line was total. Elias could hear the man breathing. The power, which had been in Seattle, was now in this room. It was in Elias's hand, in the black telephone receiver.
EWhen Elias spoke again, his voice was soft. "We can be in Seattle by the end of the week. Or... we can, of course, instruct Mr. Axelrod to... re-evaluate his production schedule. As his new owners, we are very concerned about his contracts."
It was a perfect, clean, legal threat.
"...Yes," Elias said. "Yes, I thought you might see it that way. Tomorrow is difficult. But the day after? May 3rd? That would be acceptable."
He nodded. "We will be there. Ten o'clock. Thank you for your time, Mr. Johnson."
Elias Thorne hung up the phone.
He was pale, but he was steady.
Julian Graves let out a low whistle. "My God, Elias. That was beautiful. 'Re-evaluate his production schedule.' That was... that was poetry."
Elias ignored him. He looked at Arthur. "It is done. They have no choice. They will meet us."
Arthur Vance stood up. The first major hurdle was cleared. They had failed to get in the front door. So, they had bought the back door, and now, the owners of the house were being forced to invite them in.
"Good," Arthur said. "This is the 'merger' part of Mergers & Acquisitions. They have agreed to talk. Now... we must convince them."
He looked at Julian. "Julian. Your job was to sell them. You failed."
He looked at Elias. "Elias. Your job was to get the meeting. You have succeeded."
He then walked to the door. "Now... it is my turn. We will fly to Seattle. All three of us."
Elias was confused. "All three? But Arthur... you are... you are just an advisor. And you are 18. They will not take you seriously."
"Exactly," Arthur said, a rare, cold smile on his face. "You, Elias, are the bank President. You, Julian, are the Head of Capital Raising. You are the powerful men."
"And what are you?" Julian asked.
"I," Arthur said, "am Mr. Thorne's new assistant. A very bright young man. I will be the one carrying your briefcases. I will be the one taking notes."
Elias and Julian looked at each other. They did not understand.
"Boeing's leaders are proud," Arthur said. "They are engineers. They will be angry and defensive. They will be watching you two like hawks."
"But they will not be watching me. I will be invisible. And the invisible man... is the one who sees everything."
He opened the door. "Mrs. Gable! Please book three first-class tickets to Seattle for the day after tomorrow."