ON OUR WAY back to the hotel, we rode in silence for a few minutes while Maggie jotted down some notes and Beth texted Jeff. I wondered whether the Arts Center could be part of the mystery. We needed more answers, not more questions.
“Let’s find out as much as we can about that press conference. Surely his staff prepared a press release. Beth, if you think it will help, ask Paul to take you to the Arts Center so you can poke around, but do it soon.”
I took Woody’s checkbook out of my breast pocket. “Maggie, you’d better take charge of this.” She took it from my hand, and as I rattled off more marching orders, I saw her catch Beth’s eye. “What are you two smiling about?”
Beth said, “It’s just fun to see Jack Patterson, attorney at law, in action. It’s a new experience for me; it’s almost intimidating.”
As we walked through the hotel lobby, I noticed the door to Brenda’s office was slightly open. I told Beth and Maggie to go on up, that I’d join them shortly.
Ignoring their smirks, I tapped on Brenda’s door and heard, “Come in.” She was on the phone and seemed frazzled. I motioned that I’d come back later, but she waved me in. Turning away, she lowered her voice, but I heard snippets of the conversation—”This is not a good time,” and “Someone just stepped into the office”—but she didn’t hang up.
I backed away from the desk and gazed self-consciously at her bookcase. She did have some very nice objects of art—a gold platter inlaid with what I assumed were semi-precious stones, a couple of vases that were modeled after some Egyptian vases I’d seen at the Smithsonian, and various other replicas of Greek and Egyptian art. I heard her put the phone down and turned to face her. She seemed distracted, no return smile.
“Hey—if it’s a bad time, I can come back.”
She forced a smile and said, “No, no—it’s okay. Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine. The day’s been pretty uneventful—didn’t fall on any broken beer bottles or anything.” Even though I was playing it light, I felt weird after this morning’s kiss. “I can tell you’re really busy. I should let you get back to work. Why don’t I come by later?” She didn’t object, and I walked out of her office. What’s the matter with me? Keep your mind on the job, Jack.
Upstairs, Beth asked, “So how was Brenda?” When I gave her a discouraging frown, she sighed and said, “If I need to go to the Arts Center, I’ll get Paul to go with me. Right now, I’m off to the second-floor conference room. Why don’t we plan to eat dinner there so we can keep working? I’ll order something.” Brenda had given us full use of the conference room as a sort of command post. Its long table, with eight surprisingly comfortable chairs, gave us room to spread out all our paraphernalia, which we were accumulating more of each day.
A text from Walter Matthews popped up saying he was waiting for me in the bar, so after Beth left, I went downstairs to meet with him.
Walter had already taken a quiet table in the corner. I sat and looked around the room. The posh bar provided the perfect city refuge—oak paneling, comfortable chairs, and no televisions. I ordered a glass of cabernet and asked, “How was your golf game?”
“Not bad, except for having to wait out a rain shower. Otherwise, it was good company and good golf. A perfect afternoon.” He swirled his scotch thoughtfully. “You know, I spend too much time in DC and not enough time with the lifeblood of my insurance company—the agents and the field underwriters. I’ve learned more about what we’re doing right and what we’re doing wrong this weekend than in a month’s worth of meetings. I don’t suggest you get involved in a murder case every month or so, but it’s actually good for me to get out of the office.”
“Happy to oblige,” I joked. “I’m glad somebody is getting something out of this weekend. Frankly, I wish we were having this drink at the Nineteenth Hole at Columbia.”
Walter turned serious. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, and this is coming from left field, but let me tell you what I’m thinking. Maggie has reinvigorated me, and I’m ready to take on challenges I thought I’d have to leave to the next generation. I’ve gotten off track. I want to do a total overhaul of Bridgeport Life. I intend to return to my original vision for the company when I founded it. I also believe the insurance industry itself has to change. Greed is driving it, and it has lost its purpose in society. We’ve become just another type of financial institution, and we no longer behave prudently, because we know failure isn’t possible. The government’s decided we’re too big to fail. Regulators no longer regulate us, but simply cozy up so they’ll be rewarded with employment when they leave government. Our policies are designed to seduce the middle class with dreams we can’t fulfill. We’ve used innovation and creativity to enhance our profits, not to ease the burden on our policyholders—the people who entrust us with their money. Sorry … I’m on my soapbox. The point is, I intend to make changes to right my own ship, but to make a real difference, I need to be able to sell it to the rest of the industry.” He paused.
“Yeah, and?”
He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me? I’m an antitrust lawyer. I don’t know the first thing about insurance law.”
“I don’t need another lawyer. I need someone who’s forward thinking and whose judgment I trust. While I overhaul my company, Maggie and I want to create a foundation to begin grappling with the larger issues, including our country’s economic model. It’s got to be restructured. We must tilt from consumption to production and investment in infrastructure—away from speculation and outright gambling with other people’s money. We need to educate our employees so they develop transferable skills and competence in technology. Bottom line—our companies have to become caring innovators, not simply profit machines. In America, real change has always started with people like you and me—so why not now? There’s a lot more to my idea, and I think I can get others on board, but my first recruit is you. I want you to head the foundation, be its president and CEO. In case you’re wondering, no is an unacceptable answer. I’ve already enlisted a compensation consultant to design your package, and I’m sure it will be satisfactory.”
I was stunned. “Well … thanks, Walter. I’m honored. You’re right. This does come out of left field. Of course, I’ll have a million questions, but I’ve got to ask … Why now?”
“Maggie knew you’d wonder about that. First, let me emphasize that this proposal isn’t something I’ve dreamed up while we’ve been here in Little Rock. I’ve been thinking about these issues for a long time. Yesterday afternoon, I heard from my general counsel, Bill Dean. He got a call from the lead insurance partner at Banks and Tuohey. The partner told Bill that the firm was being ‘forced to consider’ terminating you. He wanted to make sure it wouldn’t affect the company’s relationship with the firm. I’ve given Bill total discretion over such matters, but he wanted me to know what was happening. Since Maggie has resigned, I told her about Bill’s call, and we agreed that I should extend the offer now.
“We don’t want you to think you need to rush back to DC to save your job. We both think you need to see this thing through. I also want to get my offer on the table first. If word gets out that you’re on the market—if your firm is stupid enough to let you go—you’re going to be swamped with offers.”
Toying with my wine glass, I said, “I don’t know about that, but it’s very considerate of you to say so. I heard about a partners’ meeting from a friend earlier today. The smart money says I should head home, beg for forgiveness, and get back to work. But your offer is very appealing, and, no, I’m not ready to leave Little Rock just yet. I hope the firm won’t make any decision so quickly, but no matter what happens, I won’t make a move until you and I have talked again. Okay?”
“Okay. Fair enough.”
I moved to go. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I’d rather do than stay here and enjoy another glass of wine, but my team is sitting on go upstairs, and I need to get back in the game.”
“It’s not going well, is it?” he asked sympathetically.
“It’s hard to get around the fact that my client shot a US senator in front of at least a million witnesses.”
Walter nodded his head in commiseration and then said, “Before you go, don’t you want to hear the rest of Bill’s story?”
“Sure.”
“Bill told the lawyer that he’d always been confident in the way the firm handled our business, which was apparently all the answer the lawyer wanted to hear, because he didn’t ask anything else. However, Bill told me he’d surely reconsider his confidence if they fired Jack Patterson.”