Terminal Value by Thomas Waite Page A

it out of here.”
    Dylan remained silent for a few moments before continuing. “Do you have any idea what he may have been looking for?”
    â€œNot a clue. I was really angry about it.” Tony turned to Dylan. “You don’t think this acquisition was a mistake, do you? There just seem to be lots of strange things going on these days, not like when we were just a small business.”
    Dylan took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure there is an explanation for this.” He did not answer Tony’s question.
    Tony stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Okay. Let’s go do this meeting.”
    Tony followed Dylan out the door and then turned and locked it. Dylan stared at Tony, asking himself: What in the hell is going on here? But he followed Tony to the meeting.

Chapter 9
    May 2, 9:15 a.m. New York
    The warm spring air of Tuesday morning wafted through the conference room windows. The initial public offering of Mantric, following on the tail of the outrageously successful road show, was slated to open on the NASDAQ stock market in fifteen minutes. Fortunately, emerging technology sectors—including mobile computing, cloud-based technologies, and social media—were still hot despite the turbulence of the overall market.
    In every Mantric office, employees stared at the scrolling ticker on the wall and waited and watched as the offering numbers scrolled across the large screens before them.
    The night before, WMR Capital, the primary investment bank that was taking the firm public, had priced the offering at fifteen dollars per share, above the twelve-dollar price the bank had originally expected shares to sell for on opening day.
    Now the moment of truth had arrived. Art paced the sleek, computerized NASDAQ trading floor near the WMR Capital station. Christine stood nearby, undeterred and cool. Art stopped pacing for a moment, then turned to Malcolm Pierce, a top executive with WMR Capital. “Talk to me.”
    Malcolm shot a quick glance at Christine and then said to Art, “I think today’s going to be your lucky day. The futures are up.” He pointed at his computer screen. “It’s a good day to go public.”
    â€œAnd the orders?” asked Christine.
    Malcolm peered at the bids showing up on his computer. He read the numbers aloud. “Seventeen dollars for 15,000 shares. Eighteen dollars for 50,000 shares.”
    The prices continued to rise. The group stared at the computer console next to Malcolm. The computer clock read nine twenty-nine.
    Malcolm turned to Bob Gianno, a trader who mastered the art of picking the right opening price that made their best customers happy, while allowing the stock to sustain itself during the day. Bob entered a number on his keyboard.
    â€œAnd the answer is?” Malcolm asked.
    â€œTwenty and a half,” Bob replied.
    â€œWe’re opening at twenty dollars and fifty cents a share?” said Christine, showing surprise for the first time.
    Before Malcolm could answer, the opening bell went off and Bob rose to his feet. The trading floor sprang into action. Traders jumped up and down, waved their arms and shouted out orders.
    â€œTwenty-three for fifty,” one trader shouted.
    â€œNo way,” Bob responded. “But I’ll take twenty-three for a hundred.”
    A hundred thousand shares at twenty-three dollars a share. “Jesus!” Christine cried out loud, looking at Art, just the hint of a smile crossing her lips.
    â€œWhat did I tell you?” Art said, gripping Christine tightly by the shoulder.
    She nodded, her heart pounding. It was working. The stock was definitely moving in the right direction.
    Malcolm turned to Art. “Congratulations, Art. It looks like you’ve done it again. This is a great sign!”
    Art wandered around, shaking hands and accepting congratulations.
    * * *
    May 2, 9:15 a.m. Boston
    Dylan had spent the previous