Charles nervously lit a cigarette. He puffed silently, standing alone as city workers strode purposefully to their offices around him. As the nicotine worked its charms, he mentally rehearsed the speech he would make to Alex. He wasn’t looking forward to their meeting. With the bank about to collect millions from Bishopstoke if the Veritable acquisition took place, his boss wouldn’t want to hear about any deal breakers.
He stubbed out the cigarette and went inside, still feeling like a condemned man walking towards his execution. Alex was on the phone, and waved him to one side.
“Got to wrap up now,” he heard Alex say, and then, looking at Charles, “Can you find a meeting room while I finish?”
Typical, Charles thought. Planning anything in advance was an alien concept to Alex. He expected his minions to do his bidding at a moment’s notice. Meeting space was at a premium too, with a deal in progress. Fortunately, Charles had many friends among the support staff thanks to his tendency to treat them like human beings. It was a habit that Alex and others had unaccountably failed to master, but it stood Charles in good stead. One of the directors was out all morning, and his secretary made his office available to Charles. She even brought coffee.
“I’ll see you outside for a smoke,” Charles said to her, as Alex looked askance at him.
“Down to business,” Alex said, shutting the door. “What are their IT systems like?”
“Mostly good, but there are weaknesses,” Charles said cautiously. “Their product pricing is flawed. They make the same charge to smokers and non-smokers alike for health insurance.” He took a personal interest in such matters, and had idly checked while he was running system tests.
“What?” Alex’s shock registered on his face. “That’s ridiculous. Smokers are bound to make more claims on a policy, so their premiums should be more expensive.”
“They’re not, though.” Charles had brought his laptop with him. “Look, if you ask for an online quote, you’ll see.”
They went through the screens, with Alex first claiming to be a smoker and then saying he wasn’t. The same amount was quoted for both.
“Have you looked at the premium algorithms?” Alex asked.
“Yes, and they appear to be different,” Charles said. “However, the code relating to smokers has been switched off.”
“This could be good news,” Alex said. “Bishopstoke may use it to secure a price reduction.”
He didn’t mention the possibility that Bishopstoke would walk away from the deal, and Charles judged it tactless to raise it. Instead, he listened as Alex made phone calls, first to the director who was leading Project Termite for the bank, and then to Bishopstoke’s IT director.
“They want to escalate it,” Alex said. “They’re arranging a meeting with Davey Saxton urgently, and you’ll have to come along. Can I suggest you remember who our client is? It’s not your de facto brother-in-law, it’s Bishopstoke, and I expect you to behave accordingly.”
“You can rely on me,” Charles said, inwardly seething at the attack on his professionalism. As soon as he could, he hurried outside for a calming cigarette.
A dozen men and one woman gathered in David Saxton’s office an hour later. Among them were the IT directors of both Bishopstoke and Veritable, and Saxton’s opposite number at Bishopstoke. This was Alana Green, a black American with a reputation for ruthlessness. Saxton could have remained seated at his desk, setting himself apart from the assembled company, but he had chosen to sit beside Alana at the meeting table. He was no longer the curly-haired scamp Charles remembered from their schooldays. Already balding in his early forties, he nevertheless radiated energy and confidence. This was a man who was used to having his own way.
Charles was easily the most junior person among the movers and shakers around the table. “Great view, Davey,” he said, admiring the picture window over the Thames.
“Of course, you haven’t been here before, have you? I rarely have time to look at it,” Saxton admitted.
Alex, his expression distinctly unfriendly, caught Charles’ eye.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Alana interjected. “I invited us all here because I understand there are major pricing issues with your products.”
“Not major ones,” Charles began to say.
Alex cut him off. “Yes, we discovered errors in health insurance pricing when we tested your systems. Obviously, we all need to touch base on that.”
“You’ve done ten times as much business with smokers this year as last, but only because you underpriced their health insurance. There will be losses when the claims are paid. If we extrapolate across your product range, Veritable’s profit forecasts look pretty sick,” Alana said, a hint of her fabled aggression in her voice.
“You used a crucial word there: if. Maybe we can’t, and don’t even need to, extrapolate,” David Saxton said. “I’d like to understand the problem better, and I suspect Charles can explain it to us. Do you want to go ahead, Charles?”
Charles outlined the facts he’d presented to Alex earlier. When he’d finished, everyone wanted to speak at once.
“Let’s take comments in turn,” David Saxton suggested. “I want my IT director’s reaction first. Freddy?”
Freddy, a dapper young man of Asian extraction, sounded angry. “It’s not an IT problem,” he said. “We just heard that differential pricing for smokers was switched off, right? Only two administrators have the power to do so, and I’ve checked who they are while he’s been speaking.”
“Who are they?” Saxton asked, his face grim. “I want to see them here, right away.”
“The Actuarial Director and the Health Actuary,” Freddy said.
“Cari Harrison and Ross Pritchard,” Saxton translated. He jabbed at his phone. “Layla?” he said. “Tell Cari Harrison and Ross Pritchard to come along to my office immediately. Haul them out of meetings if you have to, please. Oh, Ross is away? Of course he is. Just Cari, then.” He nodded to Alana. “Let’s take a break until she arrives, shall we?”
Cari joined them seemingly within seconds. A short, slight woman with a bright red pixie cut, she marched briskly into Saxton’s office. “I don’t think I’ve been introduced to everyone, Davey,” she beamed, looking around.
David Saxton reeled off a list of everyone’s name, company and job title. Charles was impressed. He was sure Saxton hadn’t met most of them until half an hour before.
“So, Cari,” Saxton said, “we know you’re a busy woman, and we’ll keep this brief. Health insurance sales have rocketed this year.”
“Yes, we’ve taken the market by storm,” Cari agreed. “I introduced a new pricing algorithm and that really helped.”
“On that note, I’m afraid to say we may have underpriced our offering to smokers,” Saxton said. “The code that differentiated them from non-smokers has been disabled by a system administrator.”
Cari’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible,” she breathed. “The only person who could do that is Ross Pritchard.”
“And you,” Freddy said drily.
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Cari simpered. “IT isn’t my forte at all.”
“Could Ross have done this to any other products too?” Saxton asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Cari said.
“I want to be sure,” Saxton responded. “Freddy, please can you check pricing of every product for which Ross Pritchard has administrator status. Cari, I don’t think we need you any longer today – please see HR at once and ask them to investigate Ross for gross misconduct.” He waited until she’d left, then added, “I think that concludes the matter. It’s a problem limited to the current year, and one product line only. There’s no need to extrapolate.”
Alana Green rolled her eyes. “An accomplished performance,” she said. “She twisted you round her little finger. Smiling sweetly, batting her eyelashes, and making her subordinate carry the can.”
Charles saw doubt in David Saxton’s expression. He waited with bated breath for Saxton’s reaction.
“Fine,” Saxton replied. “Freddy will check if any other products, across our entire range, have been subject to administrator override. We will, of course, present you with full details of our findings, and you’re welcome to audit them. Happy?”
“Delighted,” Alana said.
Charles had always believed Americans incapable of irony. Alana Green had evidently worked in the UK for too long. She had gone native.