A restaurant on Venice Beach.
Bill Gates came straight from Los Angeles International Airport and arrived just before noon; the popular place was packed, yet Simon hadn't shown up.
Led to the reserved table, Gates was mulling things over when he noticed a couple walk in laughing softly. He glanced up and instantly recognized Hollywood star Richard Gere and his supermodel girlfriend Cindy Crawford.
Richard Gere had faded in recent years; in person, his girlfriend looked as stunning as she did on TV and in print.
Gates couldn't help staring a moment longer. Women are sensitive to such glances—Cindy felt it, turned, saw a vaguely familiar man in black-framed glasses, and, unimpressed, coolly looked away.
Realizing he'd been virtually ignored, Gates sheepishly dropped his gaze, pretending to survey the room. No one here seemed to care that a billionaire sat among them.
As he sat mulling this slight, a commotion broke out near the entrance.
He looked over: Simon Westeros had arrived. His bodyguard held back reporters, and a waiter, spotting the stir, hurried to pull open the glass door for the young man.
The moment Simon stepped inside, every eye turned toward him. Several diners half-rose, as if to greet him, but stayed in their seats.
Bill Gates hesitated, then stood and took a couple of steps forward.
Simon approached, hand outstretched. "Hey, Bill, good afternoon".
Suddenly aware of eyes on him, Gates felt a mix of emotions but smiled and shook Simon's hand. "Good to see you again, Simon".
As they were about to sit, Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford came over, greeting Simon with obvious deference, nothing like the aloof star aura they'd displayed earlier.
"Paramount's 'Internal Affairs'…I skimmed the outline; it sounds promising… Cindy, your turn in 'The House Of Gucci' was terrific; maybe try Hollywood?… Ha, kidding, kidding, don't sue me".
After a few pleasantries the couple returned to their table.
Simon and Gates sat. Watching the pretty waitress drop her reserve to ask for an autograph, and slip him a card, Gates recalled lending Simon his Boeing 767; envy welled up again.
He was used to being the centre of attention in IT circles, but in this glamorous city, beside this young man, he commanded no notice at all.
Remembering how a flight attendant had barred him from the front cabin because it was "Mr. Westeros's private space", Gates resolved to one day own a jet that wouldn't be second to anyone's.
Finally alone, Gates said, "Simon, I saw Ygritte Company's world wide web tech in San Francisco, its potential is enormous".
The Web had already linked Cisco, America Online, Sun, each partly owned by Westeros Company.
Yet Simon wasn't ready to bundle Ygritte's graphical browser into Windows; he'd keep a low profile another year or two, let the tech mature into the undisputed standard, then push it big.
So he deflected. "I've tested Windows 3.0, it's a huge leap from prior builds. After launch next year it'll cement its place at the top of the industry".
Taking the cue, Gates asked, "So you're buying more Microsoft stock again?"
"Sure. You know me, Bill, cash to spare, and when I like a company I move fast".
Gates thought of the recent reports.
The young man might not top the globes wealth list, but he likely held more liquid cash than any other billionaire. The fog-shrouded Cersei Capital alone supposedly managed eight billion dollars, half of it his. Four billion in cash eclipsed most tycoons' entire fortunes.
"But Simon, you should stop. Westeros already owns over ten percent of Microsoft. Your buying spree has institutions hoarding shares; float's drying up. Less float means weaker upward pressure on price. Your stake is big enough, diversify".
Simon had expected this pitch.
When a company's free-float ratio shrinks, trading thins and price momentum stalls. That's why firms split stock after big run-ups.
"Still, I'd like more", Simon said, then added, "Tell you what, sell me ten percent of your shares at a ten-percent discount. You'd keep thirty-five percent and remain the largest shareholder. I don't want control; I'll even hand you the voting rights. Westeros would be a passive investor".
Gates pictured the Boeing 767 he'd flown in on.
Since Microsoft's IPO he'd ranked high on the Forbes rich list, this year fifteenth in North America with $1.5 billion, yet nearly all of it was stock, leaving his lifestyle far short of what people imagine for a billionaire.
For instance, he doesn't even own a private jet yet.
Compared with the young man in front of him, he falls even further behind.
Back at their first meeting, the young man had wanted to buy Microsoft stock directly, arguing it still had huge upside. He'd refused without hesitation.
Now, selling a chunk to improve his life didn't seem like a bad idea.
Off-loading some shares while gaining the voting rights attached to Westeros Company's entire stake would let him keep control, maybe even secure absolute control.
But dumping 10 percent all at once was out of the question.
Westeros is bullish on Windows 3.0, and so is he. Microsoft's market cap has hovered around three billion dollars this year, but once the OS launches next year the stock will surely surge again.
"Simon, ten percent is too much", Bill Gates said after a pause. "And if you want it, you pay market price, no discount".
Evidently, his little earlier nudge had worked.
Simon showed no elation. "Bill, think about it: sell me ten percent and you'll hold the voting rights for Westeros's twenty percent plus your own, fifty-five percent total. You'll control the company outright".
"Five percent, maximum", Gates cut in, unmoved. "But I can talk to Allen, maybe he's willing to sell too".
At today's valuation, unloading five percent would net Gates over a hundred and fifty million, serious money when a top-line Gulfstream still cost barely ten. The cash would also fund other ventures.
Gates and Paul Allen still jointly held seventy percent of Microsoft.
Gates had once schemed to dilute his partner's stake and keep the reins. Even now, when selling, he hadn't "forgotten" Allen.
Simon voiced no objection. "Then I'll reach out to Allen as well".
Sensing Simon's excitement, Gates added, "I'll sell you shares, but the voting rights from Westeros's holdings must be permanently assigned to me".
"Impossible, Bill. You'll keep trimming your own stake; you can't sell most of it yet cling to Westeros's votes. I'm not after control, you're the best man to run Microsoft, so Westeros can grant you proxy for ten years. During that time we may also reduce our position; whatever we still hold, its votes are yours".
Gates gave a slight nod. "And after ten years?"
Simon shrugged. "Ten years is forever, Bill. Who knows what then?"
"Fine", Gates said finally. "You also stop buying Microsoft on the open market".
"Done".
As they talked, the waiter served lunch.
With Gates's five percent in hand, Simon felt getting another five from Paul Allen should be straightforward.
He'd originally aimed for only five percent, lifting his stake to fifteen. Now Westeros might hold twenty. Given Microsoft's future appreciation, the deal would be insanely profitable.
Yet Simon worried about cash.
The Microsoft and Intel build-ups were meant to stretch months, letting him raise money as he bought.
But Westeros has multiple projects; snagging ten percent of Microsoft at once needs over three hundred million in cash.
Without drawing from Cersei Capital, he'd have to borrow. Luckily, he's already repaid more than two hundred million this year, cutting debt from $900 million to just over $700 million. Another £300 million would still keep total liabilities under $1 billion, which was manageable.
After a pleasant lunch, to stiffen Gates's resolve, Simon generously lent his Boeing 767 to fly the man back to Seattle.
The days that followed were nonstop work.
Daenerys Entertainment's major projects for next year were in various stages, the ten-film slate advancing on schedule.
With 'Batman Begins' L.A. premiere approaching, Simon stayed stateside, planning to fly to Australia for Christmas right after the event, as promised to Janette.
Two days after Gates left, word came: Paul Allen also agreed to sell five percent. Simon told James Raybould to drop everything and close the deal.
News leaked fast.
Intel had already topped $6 billion, but Microsoft had languished around $3 billion; after October's mini-crash it had dipped further.
Once Westeros's ten-percent buy surfaced, the stock spiked.
Fortunately, the price had been locked; neither Gates nor Allen renegotiated. Westeros quickly arranged a fresh $300 million loan with Citibank.
Other firms struggle to borrow for share purchases.
Not Westeros. No one doubts his ability to repay; absent Cersei's tax considerations, it wouldn't need the loan at all.