{"product_id":"the-power-broker-isbn-9780345480613","title":"The Power Broker","description":"Exposing high-level governmental corruption, conspiracy, and murder has garnered plenty of attention for Christian Gillette, the young dynamo chairman of the famous New York private equity firm Everest Capital. Now the reputation he has built taking Everest to the top has been noticed beyond the boardrooms of high finance–by powerful people with potentially devastating agendas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChristian’s own attention is on Las Vegas, where he means to stake out a piece of the action by opening a new casino and launching an NFL franchise. But Sin City didn’t get its nickname for nothing, and the mob soon makes it clear that Christian’s company will have to pay if it wants to play in the nation’s gaming capital. Christian has already taken on corporate pirates and cold-blooded assassins and lived to tell about it, but crossing the underworld could do more than just kill his brilliant career. It could crush his chance to fulfill his late father’s political legacy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDynamic U.S. senator Jesse Ford is the odds-on favorite to make history as the first black president. And the man he wants beside him in the red-hot race for the White House is Christian Gillette. But Samuel Hewitt, a Texas mogul with billions to burn, has another fate in mind for Christian: to be part of a shadow organization, powered by wealth and bound by dark secrets that has manipulated the course of American history for generations.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs the pieces of Hewitt’s plot fall into place, and a twisted chain of intrigue, treachery, blackmail, and death gets tighter and tighter, Christian realizes–maybe too late–that in a grudge match between kingmakers hell-bent on victory at all costs, he may be the last pawn sacrificed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith The Power Broker, bestselling author Stephen Frey unleashes an ever-accelerating thriller that breaks the suspense barrier–and never stops.Praise for Stephen Frey\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Protégé \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“When it comes to high-finance intrigue, this series continues to look good on the bottom line.”\u003cbr\u003e–Booklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fast-paced thrilles, chills . . . The Protégé won’t disappoint.”\u003cbr\u003e–San Antonio Express-News\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Chairman\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Vivid . . . fast-paced . . . If the story remained as riveting on screen as on paper, it could be a blockbuster.”\u003cbr\u003e–Newsweek\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fast-moving, timely and possessed of a healthy cynicism . . . Businessmen will savor it on transcontinental flights.”\u003cbr\u003e–The Washington Post\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShadow Account\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Action-packed . . . Bookkeeping chicanery, insider trading, and other big-business conspiracies abound.”\u003cbr\u003e–The Wall Street Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is the sort of fiction that skates dangerously close to truth.”\u003cbr\u003e–Los Angeles TimesStephen Frey is a managing director at a private equity firm. He previously worked in mergers and acquisitions at JP Morgan and as a vice president of corporate finance at an international bank in Manhattan. Frey is the bestselling author of The Protégé, The Chairman, Shadow Account\u003ci\u003e,\u003c\/i\u003e Silent Partner, The Day Trader, Trust Fund, The Insider, The Legacy, The Inner Sanctum, The Vulture Fund, and The Takeover. He lives in Florida.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christian Gillette sat on the balcony of his suite at Caesar’s Palace in  Las Vegas, watching first light scale the craggy peaks in the distance. In  a few hours tourists would be mobbing the casino on the ground floor. He  hoped soon it would be his casino they’d be mobbing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christian ran Everest Capital, a Manhattan-based investment firm that  owned thirty companies in a wide range of industries—smokestack to  high-tech. The companies were all large, at least a billion in sales, and  Christian chaired eighteen of them. He also chaired Central States Telecom  and Satellite, a communications company in Chicago that Everest had taken  public six months ago—after owning for three years. Everest had made four  hundred million on the CST initial public offering—Christian had gotten  twenty of that. Forty years old, he’d already made fifty times more than  most people did in a lifetime, but it hadn’t gone to his head. Money was  just money, and success could be fleeting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He dialed Nigel Faraday’s cell number. Nigel was one of Everest’s five  managing partners. There were sixty-four people at the firm, but, other  than his assistant, Debbie, the five partners were Christian’s only direct  reports. Beneath the partners was a burgeoning pyramid of managing  directors, vice presidents, and associates, but he rarely dealt with them.  Five years ago, he’d known everyone at Everest by name. He missed those  days.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Nigel answered on the third ring. “Well, well, you gambling, Chris?” Nigel  had lived in the United States for almost twenty years, but his British  accent remained heavy. “Sitting in front of some one-armed bandit with  your bucket of quarters?” He laughed. “Ah, the slot machine. Another  wonderful contribution to mankind from you Americans. Right up there with  rap music and the Big Mac.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Playing the slots actually sounded like fun to Christian, if only for its  pure simplicity, but there wasn’t time. It seemed like there never was  anymore for things like that. “Hey, I don’t mind rap once in a while, and  I don’t know why you, of all people, would bash the Big Mac. You’ve eaten  your share.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Hey, chap, what I eat is my business.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Relax, chap, I’m just kidding.” Christian heard traffic in the background  at the other end of the line—horns blaring, engines revving, tires  skidding. “Where are you?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Walking down Park. Bit of a late start to the office this morning, I’m  afraid.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Nigel was huffing as he strode toward Everest’s Park Avenue headquarters.  The Brit was thirty pounds overweight thanks to a steady diet of rocky  road ice cream and those Big Macs. “Up late last night?” Christian asked.  Nigel was fresh into a new relationship with a pretty brunette he’d met a  few weeks ago. They were in the infatuation stage, calling each other five  times a day and staying out late every night. “I don’t want that woman  distracting you, no matter how wonderful she is.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Look, I—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “No, no, I’m glad you’re finally enjoying yourself,” Christian broke in.  Nigel had put in a lot of long days the last few years, taking care of  administrative details so Christian could focus on the big picture. Nigel  had been Mr. Inside so Christian could be Mr. Outside, and the formula  worked. Both Forbes and Fortune had tabbed Everest Capital as one of the  top investment firms. “Now, any updates?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Dead air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Nigel?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Just one.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christian picked up something in Nigel’s tone, and a tiny alarm went off  in his head. “What?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “After you left for Vegas last night, I got an e-mail from Bob Galloway.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Bob Galloway was the chief financial officer of CST. Despite being  chairman of CST, Christian didn’t know Galloway well, just saw him for a  few hours at quarterly board meetings. Nigel, on the other hand, knew  Galloway very well. Though Nigel wasn’t technically a CST officer like  Christian, he was Everest’s day-to-day person on the investment. The one  at Everest who constantly kept up with how CST was doing. The one who knew  CST’s financial staff and had been in charge of dealing directly with the  lawyers and investment bankers during the IPO.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Some woman from the Securities and Exchange Commission called Galloway  yesterday,” Nigel explained.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Hearing from the SEC was like hearing from the IRS or the Grim Reaper:  Safe bet it wasn’t good news. “What did she want?” Christian asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “She called to demand a meeting. Didn’t tell Galloway any more than that.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Okay, call Galloway as soon as we’re finished. Tell him to get back in  touch with the SEC right away and find out what’s going on. Let me know as  soon as you hear anything. And, Nigel?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Yeah?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Make sure Galloway doesn’t mention this to anyone else at CST.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Sure, sure.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christian heard a trace of fear in Nigel’s tone. “It’ll be fine, pal.  Don’t worry.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Oh, I’m worried all right,” Nigel admitted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Being worried doesn’t help.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Sorry I’m human. I’m glad you can stay so cool about it, Chris, but those  people scare the hell out of me. They can destroy anybody anytime.  Remember that guy who got twenty years for telling his girlfriend he had a  stock tip over the phone, when what he really said was he had a sock that  was ripped?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “What guy? I don’t remember that.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “And with my accent,” Nigel continued, “I could see it happening to me.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “It’s not like that.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Oh yeah? Ask the guys at Enron and MCI.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “They got what they deserved.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “You’ll be whistling a different tune when they bust into Everest and lead  you and me out in shackles in front of the whole firm.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Sometimes Nigel panicked too quickly. He didn’t have many faults, but  hitting the eject button prematurely was one of them. “That call Galloway  got was probably nothing, probably just some kind of follow-up on the IPO.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “I hope so. Hey, what about the casino license?” Nigel asked, his voice  growing stronger as he switched subjects. “Everything all right there?  Opening day isn’t far off.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Two years ago Everest Capital had won the National Football League’s new  Las Vegas franchise and named it the Dice. They’d spent over seven hundred  million for the team and a new stadium they were building east of the  city. As part of the deal with the NFL, Christian had gotten permission to  build a casino, also naming it the Dice. The casino was supposed to open  the day of the team’s home opener, which was just a few months away. On  top of the seven hundred million for the team and the stadium, Everest had  forked out a billion on construction of the casino—which was almost  finished. Now, at the last minute, the Nevada Gaming Commission was  holding off on approving the operating license. What seemed like a dream  come true a month ago was turning into a nightmare. Christian hadn’t told  anyone else at the firm how bad the situa-  tion was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “We’ll get the license,” he assured Nigel. Trying to figure out what was  going on with the license was Christian’s main reason for coming to Las  Vegas. At two o’clock he was meeting with the chairman of the Gaming  Commission. “Don’t sweat it.” Sometimes it seemed like he spent half his  life convincing people there wasn’t any smoke and the other half putting  out fires.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “You think the mob’s involved?” Nigel asked. “Think they’re holding the  commission up for some last-minute dough?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here, to find out.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Didn’t we hire somebody in Vegas to take care of those things, to deal  with the mob? Like most people out there do when they’re building  something big. What’s his name?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Carmine Torino.” Christian had been trying to reach Torino for a week,  but suddenly no one could find him. Until now the guy had never taken more  than fifteen minutes to return his call. Torino had vanished into thin air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Yeah, right, Carmine Torino.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “I’ve gotta go, Nigel. Ray Lancaster’s going to be here in a few minutes.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ray Lancaster was the Dice’s head coach and general manager. Christian had  hired him away from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers last February. Nigel had gone  to Florida to do the negotiating on the contract, so this was going to be  Christian’s first face-to-face meeting with Lancaster.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Ray’s tough,” Nigel warned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “He better be. I want the Dice in the play-offs this season so we get all  that extra publicity for the casino. Call me back when—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “What about Laurel Energy?” Nigel interrupted. “Anything on that? Are we  close to selling it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christian let out a ten-ton sigh. “Let’s talk about it later.” Laurel  Energy was a Canadian oil and gas company—and another Everest problem  child. Christian—and everyone else at Everest—had been anticipating a huge  profit on the sale of Laurel, but it had been on the market for a while  and there weren’t any takers. Just a few nibbles from bottom feeders, and  no one could figure out what was wrong because it was reserve-rich. “I’ve  got to go,” he said firmly. “Call me back when Galloway knows why the  SEC’s snooping around CST so I can—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Where’s Allison?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Another of Nigel’s annoying habits. Sometimes it was impossible to get him  off the phone. “What?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Where’s Allison? I’ve been trying to get her for days. She’s been out of  the office and hasn’t returned my calls.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Allison Wallace was another of Everest’s five managing partners. “She’s on  the West Coast working on that deal, you know, that company she’s been  trying to buy for a month. Aero Systems. I talked to her last night. It’s  going pretty well. She thinks the sellers are about to agree to terms.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Nigel snorted. “I guess the bitch doesn’t think I’m important enough to  call back.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Hey, Nigel, none of that. She’s just—” There was a loud rap on the suite  door. “Talk to you later, Nigel.” Christian slipped the phone in his  pocket as the person in the hallway knocked again, louder this time. “Who  is it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Ray Lancaster.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Hi, Ray,” Christian said, extending his hand when he’d opened the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Lancaster had played defensive back for the Lions in the early eighties,  but age and the stress of coaching had clearly caught up with him. His  curly black hair was thinning and streaked with gray, his cheeks were  pudgy, and there was a bulging spare tire beneath his shirt. Like Nigel,  Ray probably ate a lot of his frustration.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Christian Gillette. Thanks for coming so early.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “No problem, been looking at tapes since five this morning. First game’s  closing in. Cleveland Browns. We’re gonna kick some ass. At least on  defense.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Good. I want to make the play-offs this season.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Lancaster stopped short. “Well, I don’t know if we’re—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Let’s go out on the balcony,” Christian suggested, motioning toward the  back of the suite. “I like it.” Christian pointed at the Dice logo on  Lancaster’s aqua golf shirt as they sat down. Two tumbling die—one showing  a single dot, the other six—with a sharp orange flame trailing behind them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Yeah, it’s way cool.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “How’s your family doing?” Lancaster and his second wife had two boys—one  thirteen, one eleven. Whenever Christian relocated an executive he always  worried about the family adapting to the new city. If the family wasn’t  happy, neither was the executive. “Las Vegas is a big change from Tampa.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “They’re fine. Thanks for asking.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Lancaster seemed anxious, like something was on his mind. “Everything all  right, Ray?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “I should have called you after we inked my contract, but, well, better  late than never.” Lancaster looked directly into Christian’s eyes. “Thanks  for giving me this chance. I owe you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Lancaster hadn’t been the Buccaneers general manager in Tampa, just head  coach, so this was a big promotion. “Win me a Super Bowl and we’ll call it  even.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Lancaster laughed nervously. “Yeah, right.” He tugged at the front of his  shirt like it had suddenly gotten tight. “I didn’t think I’d ever get a  shot to be a GM in this league,” he continued, skirting Christian’s Super  Bowl demand. “Hardly any black men get to be head coach in the NFL, let  alone GM.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “You’ve won a lot of football games. You got the Bucs to the NFC  championship last year without a lot of talent. You deserve this.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “And I really didn’t think I’d get a shot from a white man,” Lancaster  went on. “I thought I might eventually get it from a black owner, but not  a guy like you.”","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302128341221,"sku":"NP9780345480613","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345480613_dac087b5-db80-46e6-a3f0-948abb74d90c.jpg?v=1742926307","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-power-broker-isbn-9780345480613","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}