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the sounds of congratulation faded. “I said
fifteen billion.
”
    The room broke into raucous applause and loud whistles. Gillette usually wanted controlled responses to everything at this meeting, even big news, but when he gave permission to celebrate, people responded. And this was tear-the-roof-off stuff.
    Historically, Everest had achieved at least a three-to-one return, with the firm keeping twenty percent of the profits. So if the people around the table could turn fifteen billion into forty-five over the next few years, Gillette would have six billion—twenty percent of the thirty-billion-dollar profit—to spread around. It would be the biggest payout ever for a private equity firm. Some of the money would go to the Everest rank and file, but most of it would go to the people in this room.
    Gillette nodded approvingly at their reaction, watching the hungry looks turn ravenous. He could see people calculating their potential share of the ups—as they should. Money was their driver, their reward for the intense stress and sacrifice—eighty to ninety hours a week away from family and friends. If they didn’t get to enjoy the reward, they wouldn’t last.
    “That’s better,” Gillette said, motioning for quiet as he turned to Faraday, who was beaming. “Nigel, it’s a tremendous achievement. The largest private equity fund ever raised. Thank you.”
    “Thank
you,
Mr. Chairman.”
    People began to clap and whistle again, but Gillette shut them down with a flash of his piercing gray eyes. “It gets better,” he continued when the room was silent. “This morning, I met with representatives of the Wallace Family. They’re out of Chicago, for any of you who
don’t
know,” he said, effectively telling anyone who didn’t that they better research the Wallaces right after the meeting. “They’re one of the wealthi-est families in the country.” He paused. “They’ve committed an additional five billion to Everest Eight, so it’s now a
twenty
-billion-dollar fund.”
    There were gasps.
    “And they’ve made their investment on the same terms and conditions as the other limited partners.”
    “They don’t want
anything
special?” Maggie Carpenter asked warily. Maggie was one of the managing partners. Six months ago, Gillette had hired her away from Kohlberg Kravis & Roberts, another high-profile private equity firm in Manhattan. Thirty-five, Maggie was thin with dark red hair, a pale, freckled complexion, and stark facial features. Besides Gillette, she was usually the first one to ask tough questions in this meeting. “That’s an awfully big commitment for them not to get some sizzle.”
    “They want one of their people on the ground here at Everest,” Gillette replied, catching the uneasy looks appearing on the faces around the table. “Allison Wallace will join us as a managing partner. That’s the only extra they want.”
    “The
only
extra?” asked Blair Johnson. Johnson was another of the four managing partners. He was African American and had grown up in an upper-middle-class Atlanta suburb. The son of a physician, he’d gone to the right schools: Harvard undergraduate and Columbia Business School. He’d been with Everest for seven years, and Gillette had promoted him to managing partner nine months ago. “That seems like a lot.”
    “Worried about the money?” Gillette asked.
    Johnson cased the room quickly, making certain he wasn’t the only one concerned about Allison Wallace. “Not the salary and bonus, really,” he answered hesitantly. “After all, it’s a twenty-billion-dollar fund. At one percent, we’ll make two hundred million a year in fees alone.”
    “So it’s the ups you’re worried about.”
    “Yeah, the ups.”
    “Well, here’s the deal, Blair,” Gillette said sharply. “Allison doesn’t want
any
money. No salary, no bonus, no ups. All she wants is a front row seat at the game so she can see how her money’s being used.”
    “What Allison Wallace