The problem was that all of Silicon Valley Online's business ideas had come from Takuya Nakayama. The company's executives and board of directors hung on his every word. That young Japanese Managing Director was fully capable of flipping the table.
A tense silence stretched between them, like a tug-of-war.
The air in the lounge seemed to thicken.
George stared intently at Frank, trying to find a crack in his weary expression.
Frank remained impassive. He even picked up his soda and took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked like a man who had nothing to lose.
"This is blackmail," George growled through gritted teeth.
"This is a business negotiation," Frank replied, setting down his glass. A ring of condensation formed on the table. "You have two options. Either take this revised offer and convince your boss and the fund managers that Silicon Valley Online is worth this price, and make them pay up. Or I walk out that door, turn left, and call Morgan Stanley."
George stared at the water ring for a long moment. Finally, he irritably snatched the documents from the table and downed the expensive whiskey in one gulp.
"I can't guarantee we'll get approved," he said, standing up, his earlier composure gone. He grabbed his coat. "But I'll make the call. Damn it, you Japanese and the guys working for them are all crazy."
"George, don't say that. Remember, Silicon Valley Online is just the first Internet company to go public. We're making a killing, and when other Internet companies prepare to list, they'll definitely consider Goldman Sachs. This isn't our only deal, is it?"
"—I'll let you know." George, after a long pause, could only manage this one sentence.
Watching George storm out in a huff, Frank let out a long sigh, feeling his shirt already soaked through with cold sweat. He slumped back in his chair, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for his soda.
For the next two days, the executive suite at the Pierre Hotel became the temporary command center for the Silicon Valley Online IPO team.
Apart from two mandatory investor receptions, Takuya Nakayama didn't step outside the hotel.
Tom Kalinske's suggestion to see a Broadway play or stroll down Fifth Avenue was immediately shot down by Takuya.
"This is New York," Takuya said, flipping through the subscription agreement without looking up. "Not Tokyo, and certainly not the safe Setagaya Ward. I don't want to end up as collateral damage in some street gang shootout before the IPO bell rings."
Frank, who was adding sugar to his coffee, chuckled. "Boss, you're overreacting. Manhattan isn't that dangerous."
"Better safe than sorry," Takuya Nakayama said, closing the document and tossing it onto the coffee table. "We're holding a deal that's about to be worth a billion dollars. We've cornered Goldman Sachs. Who knows what those Wall Street sharks might do? Old DuPont used to have people flying in on prop planes. Who's to say some deranged lunatic won't decide to plant a little 'gift' under our car?"
Tom listened, then silently crumpled his meticulously planned evening itinerary into a ball and tossed it in the trash.
To prepare for the two unavoidable banquets, Tom had pulled strings with Sega of North America to have an armored Lincoln stretch limousine flown in overnight from California.
When the four-ton armored vehicle pulled up to the Pierre Hotel, even the valet did a double take.
The car door was so thick it required more force than usual to open, and the window glass reflected the faint green of its bulletproof coating.
"This is over the top," Frank said as he climbed into the car, tapping on the bulletproof glass. "Anyone who doesn't know what's going on would think the president is inside."
"A genius racking their brains is no match for a fool's sudden inspiration," Takuya Nakayama said, straightening his suit and tie as he sat up straight. "I'd rather be over the top than gamble on the moral bottom line of Wall Street capitalists, or the whims of some idiot who's heard a rumor, or even some strung-out guy on the street wanting to take our car for a joyride. Making money is good, as long as you live to spend it."
Through the report submitted by George, Goldman Sachs partners had gained a clear understanding of the three individuals' actions at the Pierre Hotel.
Their decision to rent a bulletproof stretch limousine, refuse all non-essential public appearances, and transform the executive suite into a sealed command center demonstrated extreme caution.
For these investment banking elites, who had weathered years of market storms, such behavior—prioritizing personal safety over social obligations like roadshows—was nothing new.
This typically occurs with negotiators who hold significant leverage and are willing to flip the table if necessary.
While Takuya Nakayama's team maintained a tight security posture, they exuded a relaxed confidence in the pricing negotiations, as if they had the buyer cornered.
They dared to overturn the initially set range at the last minute before submitting the prospectus, demanding a valuation of over one hundred billion dollars. Their confidence stemmed from Silicon Valley Online's stellar business data.
After an emergency closed-door meeting, Goldman Sachs' investment banking executives meticulously calculated the costs of breaching the contract with their current underwriters and the probability of Morgan Stanley stepping in.
Risk assessment reports showed that Goldman Sachs could not afford to lose this IPO.
Silicon Valley Online was not only the leading Internet company in the United States by user base but also the first pure-play Internet company poised to list on the Nasdaq.
This distinction carried immense weight in the current capital market.
Wall Street funds were actively seeking new investment opportunities.
Growth curves in traditional industries were flattening, and tech stocks were emerging as the next hot trend.
If Goldman Sachs forced Silicon Valley Online into Morgan Stanley's arms over pricing disagreements, the losses would far exceed tens of millions of dollars in underwriting fees.
A host of tech startups, including Netscape, Yahoo, and Amazon, were all closely watching the outcome of the offering.
Silicon Valley Online's IPO performance would directly set the valuation benchmark for Internet company IPOs over the next three years.
If Goldman Sachs failed to secure even the business of an industry leader, its reputation for expertise in tech underwriting would be severely damaged.
Subsequent Internet startups lining up for their IPOs would then rank Goldman Sachs lower on their list of preferred investment banks.
To protect its status as a top Wall Street firm and secure a larger share of the underwriting market in the burgeoning new economy, Goldman Sachs' partners ultimately signed off on the price increase.
They chose to compromise with the young Japanese Managing Director, raising the offering price range, though not to a full billion dollars, but to $930 million.
On the morning of March 19th, the fax machine in the Pierre Hotel's executive suite finished sending its last sheet.
Frank hurried over, pulled out the page, and quickly scanned it before turning to Takuya Nakayama, who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper.
"Goldman Sachs has compromised," Frank said, handing over the fax. "Nine hundred thirty million dollars."
Frank hurried over, pulled out the fax, and quickly scanned it. He turned to look at Takuya Nakayama, who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper.
"Goldman Sachs has compromised."
Frank handed him the fax. "Nine hundred and thirty million dollars."
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