Will sighed. There was always speculation. The Worthingtons couldn’t get away from it.
As one of the five wealthiest families in the United States, with a legacy that reached back to the British blue bloods, the Worthingtons found it impossible to stay out of the clutches of the media. The press liked to compare the Worthingtons to the Bushes or the Kennedys. It was a bit like the fascination with royalty in England. Who even in the States hadn’t followed the lives of Charles, Diana, Prince Harry, or Prince William and Princess Kate? The difference was that, in the United States, it was the wealthiest families who served as surrogates for royalty. People and tabloids were utterly fascinated with the lives of the rich and the famous—lives they could only imagine but loved to sneak peeks into. Like the Waltons, though—the founders of Walmart and the richest family in the world—none of the Worthington children had ever chosen a path in politics.
Yet the press continued to speculate. Someday, they said, a Worthington would be president of the United States, and Will, the firstborn in the sixth generation of Worthington wealth, seemed like the logical candidate. “He couldn’t be more perfect for the job,” one well-known journalist had stated.
But to get there, the press said, Will would have to start somewhere first—as either a governor or a senator from a state like New York, Connecticut, or New Jersey.
“Drew, you know I believe my calling is in finance—not politics,” Will said.
“So you say.” A smirk formed. “There is no doubt about it, sir,” he said in a tone of mock seriousness. “There is no other candidate who brings more to the table than you do. You can handle this crisis for American Frontier. You were built for this moment. This is the time when the Worthington name means something and isn’t just an albatross around your neck. And when you get the ship headed back in the right direction, then perhaps you can focus on the only prize that’s eluded the family for generations.”
Will chuckled. It was a running, private joke between the two of them. They’d had long discussions about the value of the Worthington name—whether it helped or hurt. Drew had long ago given up trying to convince Will that it was worth considerably more than he believed.
He took a long, last gulp of his now nearly cold coffee. He pushed his chair back from the table, positioned next to the enormous window that overlooked Columbus Circle. He’d never glanced out the window once during breakfast, staying focused on the task at hand. “We’ll pick that up another time. First things first.” He grabbed his Armani suit jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on. “But I will agree that at least the Worthington name doesn’t hurt me right now.”
Will loved the New York subway system, even though it was old, dirty, and packed. He could get anywhere in the city in a matter of minutes, regardless of traffic. And he wasn’t alone. Google’s cofounder, a billionaire many times over, had once been spotted taking the number 2 express train from the Upper West Side, wearing his new Google glasses. A passenger recognized him, snapped a picture with his iPhone, and tweeted about it. Sean, the networking king, had of course been the one to tell Will about it.
Will and Drew fought through the throngs of people on the broad sidewalk at the circle and made their way to the massive subway stop at the 59th Street station. Will glanced up at the enormous CNN sign on one of the high-rises that looked down at them as they ducked into the subway station. There would be nothing easy about heading American Frontier at a time like this. Then again, he was always up for a challenge. His dad had taught him since babyhood to face them head-on.
They caught a local train south toward Wall Street. As he always did, Will wrapped his overcoat around his expensive suit and buttoned up, hiding his incredible wealth. Nobody would look at his 700-dollar pair of shoes, even though he was careful not to scuff them as he and Drew edged onto the crowded train. Will leaned back against the subway as the doors closed and focused his mind on the meeting ahead.
They were 45 minutes early by the time they’d left the subway system and walked the last three blocks to the American Frontier building in lower Manhattan. Not surprisingly, protesters loitered and picketed in front of the building. Will and Drew hustled inside. The protesters didn’t connect either of them to the company—at least, not yet. But if today’s meeting went as planned, that anonymity wouldn’t last long. Will might shortly be in the eye of the hurricane.
The guards at the visitors’ desk recognized them, though, and waved them through.
“Did you see some of the outfits the protesters were wearing?” Drew asked Will as they strode toward the elevators.
Will nodded. “Inventive. I especially liked the guy dressed in the bright orange American Frontier overalls.”
They rode up to the fortieth floor of the building in silence. By the time they emerged at the top, Will had steeled himself. His jaw was set. He was prepared for battle.
“Ready?” Drew asked him.
“I am now,” Will said, then opened the door to the boardroom.
5
THE ARCTIC OCEAN
It was only a matter of time before Sean would be kicked off the USS Cantor, and the gap was closing fast. Today the American Frontier crews would arrive. The last thing they’d want is for nonessential personnel who weren’t an official part of the American Frontier team to observe their cleanup efforts up close. And the Navy wasn’t allowing any other ships in the area.
In the meanwhile, the scientists were hard at work, trying to gather all the data they could.
“In dealing with the currents and deep reaches of the ocean, there’s only a single constant,” Dr. Leopold Shapiro told Sean and Elizabeth as they stood by the railing on the deck overlooking the spill. “Prepare to be surprised.”
But even Dr. Shapiro himself admitted he was more than a bit surprised at what was happening right in front of them. His research team had studied the Arctic Ocean circulation models for years, preparing for this first expedition. They’d also done as much research as they could about what might lie beneath the ocean in the Arctic. But it was geologists who were supposed to know what might happen in the event of this sort of rupture or leak, he’d told Sean, and none of them were on board yet.
“I’m convinced,” Dr. Shapiro added, “that what happens with the Arctic currents actually regulates nearly the entire circulation patterns through all of the other oceans of the world.”
“And now we’re witnessing it firsthand and are powerless to do anything about it,” Elizabeth murmured.
Whether anyone wanted to admit it or not, a whole lot of oil was escaping into the icy waters of the Arctic and hitting all sorts of circulation patterns in several directions at once. Every computer sensor on board was recording it in real time.
“We should go out and see it,” Sean said.
“See it?” Dr. Shapiro asked, turning toward him.
“Yeah. Take one of the boats out, with a camera—before it’s too late.”
“What do you mean, too late?”
Sean peered over his shoulder. “I heard some of the Navy boys talking. They’re gonna lock this place down real soon. Nobody’s going to get near that spill. This may be our last chance to take some samples and pictures.”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. “We could drop a buoy right smack in the middle of it, with some of our best sensors attached.”
Dr. Shapiro eyed Sean. “And I’ll bet you have a plan?” The scientist grinned.
“I do.” Sean lowered his voice. “We need to move one of the small boats with a buoy inside out over the water, then motor out to the site.”
“You know they’ll come get us, bring us back in,” Dr. Shapiro said.
“I know.” Sean met his gaze confidently. “But at least you’ll have some information firsthand, before they do.”
Dr. Shapiro looked at the spill site and then back at Sean and Elizabeth. “Let’s go. We don’t work for the Navy, but I doubt they’ll invite us back after this stunt.”
“Oh, you never kno
w.” Elizabeth smirked. “Everyone knows scientists have an independent streak and don’t take orders all that well.”
“And we haven’t been told not to go investigate, now have we?” Dr. Shapiro added.
“No, not yet.” She wiggled her brows.
Sean, Elizabeth, and Dr. Shapiro had the small motorboat in the water within minutes and were quickly on their way toward the center of the spill site and the American Frontier platform. Shouts resounded from the deck as they motored away, but none of them glanced back. They’d agreed to simply plead ignorance later—say they’d never heard anyone tell them they weren’t supposed to go out and visit the site themselves.
As they drew closer to the platform and then edged around to the side of it, where they wouldn’t be seen, Dr. Shapiro reached his hand into the water as far as he could. The oil was already thick on top of the ocean, as long as his arm. “Good grief,” he muttered. “There’s clearly a lot more oil coming up than there was with the BP spill.”
“Why, do you think?” Sean asked.
“There’s a good reason American Frontier spent tens of billions to get this platform out here in the Arctic once the ice had melted enough to allow for drilling,” Dr. Shapiro replied. “I think there’s more oil beneath this ocean than anyone knew about, and now they’ve ruptured something.”
Elizabeth had already stashed some weights that would keep the buoy partially submerged and not so obvious to see from a ship. Now she turned on the buoy’s sensors and dropped it over the side of the motorboat. Sean watched as it sank and bobbed once before settling three quarters of the way into the ocean.
Elizabeth checked her handheld and nodded. Dr. Shapiro blew out a breath of relief. The sensors were sending information back already.
“I have one other toy that I didn’t think I’d get a chance to use on this trip. But I brought it along just in case.” Dr. Shapiro winked.
“What?” Sean asked.
“An infrared camera attached to a weighted rope. It’ll give us some interesting pictures. We can attach it to the buoy and let it hang down in the water.”
“How far down will it go?”
“Quite a ways.” Dr. Shapiro unfurled the rope.
“Hear that?” Elizabeth called to them both.
The roar of a second boat was headed their way, and it would bring a firm halt to their experiments.
Elizabeth attached the camera to the buoy while Dr. Shapiro worked swiftly to turn it on and sync it. Seconds later, he dropped the rope in the water and it sank quickly. The roar of the other boat was close now, but still out of sight.
“Let’s get out of here—move over to the other side of the platform,” Sean suggested.
Dr. Shapiro nodded. “Good idea. If we stay here, they’ll spot the buoy and take it out as soon as they can.”
Sean gunned the small engine, and they sped around the American Frontier platform. Taking out portable plastic containers, they started filling them with water as a diversion.
Several minutes later, a slightly larger Navy boat pulled up alongside them. “Dr. Shapiro!” a voice called sharply. “Who gave you permission to use one of the boats?”
Dr. Shapiro looked up. He smiled at the young Navy ensign who’d been their constant shadow for the entire research mission. “Just wanted to grab a few test samples of water,” he offered lamely, holding up one of the containers. Oil and seawater sloshed around inside it.
“You should have asked,” the ensign said.
“Sorry.” Dr. Shapiro shrugged. “We will next time. We didn’t think anyone would care, not right now when everyone is still on their way to the site.”
“Follow us back to the Cantor, will you?” It wasn’t a question, though.
“You bet,” Dr. Shapiro replied. “Maybe we can fill up the rest of our—”
“Right now!” the ensign barked. “There will be time enough to fill up as many containers as you’d like once we’ve secured the area. But we don’t know the risk or what’s going on here. For all we know, this platform is dangerous.”
Sean knew that was a bunch of bull. Any dangers posed by the platform weren’t likely to be here but rather well below, in the murky waters. And they weren’t a risk to the immediate ship’s party. They were a risk to many other places on the planet that would be affected if the oil leak couldn’t be stopped and it spread far and wide.
But now wasn’t the time for that intellectual discussion.
“Got it,” Dr. Shapiro said. “Sean, let’s go. We’ll follow them back to the ship.”
None of them cast another glance in the direction of the buoy and infrared camera. The readings they were getting from Elizabeth’s handheld were the only thing they double-checked as they made their way back to the Cantor.
6
NEW YORK CITY
A firm hand grabbed Will’s shoulder as he and Drew stepped into the American Frontier boardroom.
“Ready to make history, my friend?” Frank Stapleton boomed.
“Are you?” Will asked.
Stapleton laughed and swiveled to look out over the boardroom, which was slowly filling up. There were more titans of industry assembled in this particular boardroom than with any other board of directors anywhere on the planet. American Frontier was the richest, most profitable company ever in the history of humankind. A seat on its board was one of the most coveted in the corporate world.
But at this moment Will knew all of them had the same basic thought: Thank heavens it isn’t us personally in the middle of this mess. Initial reports coming from the geologists and engineers stateside who had been frantically pulling together every shred of data at their disposal were grim. This particular platform had drilled into one of the most promising fields at the bottom of the Arctic. In fact, it might even rival Ghawar in Saudi Arabia. And now it was leaking oil at a ferocious rate.
Will returned Stapleton’s smile. The longtime CEO of City Capital had seen nearly every financial crisis imaginable, in boardrooms much like this in different parts of New York. Now that no one in Washington cared much anymore about how big companies got, City Cap had taken over all the major credit card companies and had swallowed up or consolidated nearly all of the regional banking chains. There was no bigger financial banking institution in the world than City Cap.
Stapleton was a towering figure, in more ways than one. He’d been a basketball player in college and had turned that athletic drive loose in the highly competitive world of finance after graduation. Height gave you an edge in the business world—people tended to respect you, whether it was earned or not. Stapleton had taken full advantage of that perception early in his career. Now his respect was earned.
Stapleton had taken Will under his wing years ago on another board and guided him through the ebbs and flows of boardroom politics. Will was grateful for the education and relied on Stapleton for advice and counsel on any subject he cared to discuss. Stapleton was a good 15 years older and wiser. There was literally nothing he hadn’t seen at one time or another in the corporate, financial, or even political world.
The two men gazed across the room. Their eyes fixed on the current CEO of American Frontier, Eric Sandstrom, who was huddled with several of his executive vice presidents.
“Do you think he knows?” Stapleton asked.
“That he won’t survive this meeting?” Will said.
“No, just how bad it will get for him very soon,” Stapleton murmured. “It’s a given he won’t survive. What he doesn’t know yet is that this boardroom war will be followed by a shareholder lawsuit.”
“How so?” Will swiveled back toward Stapleton.
“Criminal negligence.”
Will stared hard at him. The board had been split for some time about the wisdom of drilling in the Arctic. They’d engaged vehemently behind closed doors for nearly two years on the subject. Will, with some help from Sean and his many contacts offstage, had led the opposition to the move. He’d assembled reams of scientific data and reports on
the underlying threats. He’d presented endless arguments about how unwise it might look if something catastrophic happened. American Frontier could drill elsewhere. It didn’t need the Arctic. It could substantially increase its pursuit of natural gas. It could race to develop oil shale in Israel and the western United States, which might ultimately be cheaper and faster than absorbing the risks of taking on the frozen but rapidly melting north. They were even dabbling in the massive, untapped offshore wind reserve along the Eastern Seaboard and could expand that.
Now that something catastrophic had happened, Will looked prophetic. But he didn’t buy in to such a drastic next step as Stapleton was suggesting.
“Oh, come on,” Will said. “There’s no way. I’m no fan of Sandstrom or the Arctic drilling policy, but criminal negligence? That’s utter nonsense. No one would possibly take it seriously.”
“Your little sister is taking it quite seriously, my friend,” Stapleton said in a low voice that only Will could hear. “Justice’s Criminal Division is looking at that, and Sarah is going to head it up.”
Will didn’t dare ask how Stapleton knew that before his sister had even had the chance to tell him. But he could guess. Stapleton had eyes and ears nearly everywhere, at almost every critical nexus in the financial, government, and corporate worlds. In this case, his source was likely the political appointee who headed the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division.
For now, Will simply played along. “The shareholder lawsuit will be based here in New York, of course, and she has friends who will be involved. But there’s no way criminal negligence is involved, or that Justice’s Criminal Division will get in the game.”
“Don’t be so sure. I have it on awfully good authority that Justice will pursue criminal negligence charges. But your sister . . .” Stapleton shook his head. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t recuse herself. With your family connections to American Frontier . . .”
Will knew what Stapleton had left unspoken. It would be a media frenzy. He chose to gloss over the last part of Stapleton’s statement. “I still don’t see it. To quote you, ‘So a few polar bears and beluga whales are coated with oil.’ How’s that criminal negligence?”
A Perfect Ambition Page 4
