When Simon Westeros tried to join Motorola's board, not only was a Westeros Company representative left hanging in Chicago for three days, but Motorola's chairman also sent him a 'Christmas gift.' The episode became a favourite holiday talking point.
Too many people simply can't stomach a suddenly-rich kid rampaging through the capital markets and coveting the power they already hold.
Faced with Westeros Company's silence over Christmas, Wall Street, the North-American press, and every tech firm in which Westeros holds shares were all guessing what Simon Westeros would do next.
Monday, 28 December.
After the holidays, the work-week returned and Westeros Company's reply was as blunt as a hammer.
Early that morning, on the very page of The New York Times where Motorola chairman Robert Galvin's statement had run the previous week, Westeros Company placed a point-by-point rebuttal.
"Westeros Company regrets the October crash, but every profit we took was earned strictly within commercial rules; we never employed any market-manipulating violations. In fact, after the crash began, our massive buying helped support the entire tech sector, benefiting scores of emerging tech firms".
"Therefore we utterly reject the accusations made by Motorola chairman Robert Galvin".
"Westeros Company's attempt to join the boards of its investees is meant, while safeguarding our own major-shareholder rights, to offer those companies appropriate support and advice for their development".
"To show we have no speculative intent, we will continue to buy shares of twenty-five other companies besides Motorola, raising each stake above 5 % so as to invite public oversight".
"Westeros Company hereby pledges: for any enterprise that admits us to its board, we will not sell a single share during the next three years; for companies that refuse us, we will still hold their shares for at least one year".
"Finally, as retaliation for Motorola's malicious snub of its shareholder representative and its improper remarks, Westeros Company will divest every share it owns in Motorola".
Once the statement hit, media and Street analysts quickly parsed the core message: Simon Westeros would dump hundreds of millions in Motorola stock while continuing to buy other tech names.
That was precisely the effect Simon had intended by releasing the statement early.
As a whale big enough to sway the whole tech sector, if Westeros Company dumped Motorola without warning, panic would spill into its other tech holdings and trigger a chain reaction.
Now, having declared in advance that he would target only Motorola and would keep buying and holding other tech stocks, Simon's planned sale would not ignite market terror.
Immediately afterward, while Wall Street was still guessing at his disposal strategy, the New York market opened at 9:30 a.m. and a million-share Motorola sell order slammed straight into the floor, ripping a downward gap in the index.
Only after the news spread did investors, who had feared another crash, steady their nerves.
Yet, led by Westeros Company, the whole market began unloading Motorola. By the 4 p.m. close the stock had crashed from Thursday's $75.50 to $62, a 17.9 % plunge.
In just six and a half hours Motorola's market value had evaporated by $1.28 billion.
At the same time when the afternoon papers rolled off the presses, they carried Westeros Company's SEC filings for the other twenty-five companies.
Excluding Motorola, Westeros holds about $1.3 billion worth of stock in those twenty-five firms; raising each stake by 0.1 % to reach the 5 % reporting threshold required less than $13 million.
Moreover, before today, Westeros had secured only five board seats; by the closing bell the number had jumped to eleven, with executives from the remaining firms already calling to negotiate.
Facing a market-cap loss topping $1.2 billion, Motorola could hardly stay calm.
After the morning statement in The New York Times, Motorola had still talked tough, but by noon its tone had completely softened, though any subsequent calls were blocked with the excuse that "Simon is in a meeting".
Simon really was in a meeting.
After weekend negotiations, James Raybould formally joined as Westeros Company president; until then he had been the firm's legal counsel.
That Monday morning Simon, James Raybould and the Raybould legal team hashed out a plan to acquire New World Entertainment. Going forward, Carol Raybould, Jennifer's mother, would head Raybould Law.
In a Midtown tower on 51st Street, the session lasted until five p.m. After work Simon walked out of Raybould Law headquarters with the group and nearly collided with a furious white-haired man in his sixties flanked by aides. Seeing Simon, the old man's anger visibly flared.
The man was Motorola's current chairman, Robert Galvin.
With Westeros Company dumping stock as if there were no tomorrow, Robert Galvin under twin pressures from the board and the major shareholders lost all appetite for vacation. After his calls went unanswered, he had no choice but to race from Miami, Florida, to New York.
Simon refused a meeting, so Galvin came in person to block his door.
Without so much as a greeting, Robert Galvin barely reined in his fury and stared at Simon. "Westeros, stop the sell-off. I'll let your people onto the board".
Simon shook his head flatly. "Mr. Galvin, you overrate how attractive a Motorola board seat is to me. And since I've publicly announced I'm reducing my stake, I'm not about to back-pedal like some people do".
Robert Galvin's cheek twitched. "In that case, Motorola will buy back what you still hold. Name your price".
Simon turned to Jennifer beside him. "Jenny, how much Motorola stock do we have left?"
Jennifer answered without hesitation. "4.13 million shares".
Simon looked back at Robert Galvin, whose face had darkened again. "Mr. Galvin, 4.13 million shares. If Motorola wants them, we'll round last Thursday's close of seventy-five-five, call it three hundred million dollars".
Robert Galvin glared. "That's blackmail".
Simon shrugged. "Or you can try picking them up on the open market, I promise it'll be a lot cheaper".
Robert Galvin's anger flared anew.
Had the open market been an option, he wouldn't be here today.
Exchange trades are auto-matched by price; you can't single out a seller. Westeros only needs to set its asks a hair above the floor, making Motorola's attempt to mop up shares futile.
Motorola's turnover today topped six per cent, 5.7 million shares. Westeros hammered three blocks of a million at successive price tiers, yet only about six hundred thousand of its 4.7 million shares found buyers, for exactly that reason.
And those sub-six-hundred-thousand shares had already knocked Motorola's price down 17%. Galvin didn't dare imagine where the stock would land once Westeros unloaded the rest.
Now, Robert Galvin finally saw it: Simon Westeros had simply waited for him to come begging.
Through gritted teeth he offered, "Sixty. That's my ceiling".
Simon repeated mechanically, "Seventy-five".
Robert Galvin clenched his fists; thirty years younger, he'd have lunged and beaten the Little fellow to a pulp. Instead he hissed, "Forget it, Westeros. You're a punk, a parvenu, a vandal. You've no idea how hard grown-ups work for money, you just smash other people's companies like a spoiled child".
Simon narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Galvin, you're wrong. I know exactly how hard it is to build a company. That's why I know how much it'll hurt when I smash every jar and pot you've crafted. This could have been settled amicably; you created the mess. And you've taught me something, since you all think Westeros is just a punk unworthy of respect, I'll show you the nature of that punk. You won't give respect? I'll give you fear. Simple. If Motorola keeps plunging, a chairman who cost shareholders billions won't survive his term".
Robert Galvin jabbed a finger, shouting, "You did this!"
Simon nodded. "Yes, but they'll blame you".
Galvin's body shook. After a silence he said, "Sixty-five".
Not wanting to scuttle the deal, Simon yielded. "Seventy, then. But Motorola has one week. As security, thirty hits our account before tomorrow's open; if you default, we keep it".
Galvin haggled on. "Seventy's too high. Sixty-seven, and I need at least a month".
Simon was adamant. "Seventy, one week. I don't bargain, Mr. Galvin; you've no second choice".
Still Galvin pressed. "Westeros, if I refuse and you keep hammering, everybody loses, you'll take a huge hit too".
"I can afford that loss" Simon said indifferently, shaking his head. "You can't. After a crash, markets stay cold for years. I can batter Motorola to sixty-two in a day, but climbing back to seventy-five could take you a year. So if you refuse, tomorrow I'll make it drop for another year".
Robert Galvin's face flickered between rage and resignation. At last he muttered, "Seventy. Done".