The Exchange: After The Firm

Mitch had read about it but only knew the basics. His knowledge, or lack thereof, didn’t matter, because Luca was in his storytelling mood. “Not really.”

Luca nodded at the correct response and said, “Goes back decades, but around 1975 Colonel Gaddafi decided to build an underground canal to pump water from under the Sahara to the cities along the coast in northern Libya. When the oil companies starting poking around for oil eighty years ago, they found some huge aquifers deep beneath the desert. The idea was to pump the water out and send it to Tripoli and Benghazi, but the cost was far too much. Until they discovered oil. Gaddafi gave the project the green light, but most experts thought it was impossible. It took thirty years and twenty billion dollars, but damned if the Libyans didn’t pull it off. It worked, and Gaddafi declared himself a genius, something he has a habit of doing. Since he then had dominion over nature, he decided to create a river. There is not a single one in the entire country. Instead they have seasonal riverbeds known as ‘wadis,’ and these dry out in the summer. Gaddafi’s next breathtaking project would be to combine some of the larger wadis, reroute the flow of water, make a permanent river, and build a magnificent bridge over it.”

“A bridge in the desert.”

“Yes, Mitch, a bridge in the desert, with delusional plans to link one side of the desert to the other and somehow build cities. Build a bridge and the traffic will find it. Six years ago, in 1999, Lannak signed a contract with the government for eight hundred million dollars. Gaddafi wanted a billion-dollar bridge, so he ordered changes before construction started. In his newspapers he posed for photos with models of ‘The Great Gaddafi Bridge’ and told everyone it would cost a billion, all generated by Libyan oil. Not a dime would be borrowed. Because Lannak has done business in Libya for many years, they knew how chaotic things could be. Let’s just say that Colonel Gaddafi and his warlords are not astute businessmen. They understand guns and oil. Contracts are often a nuisance. Lannak would not begin the job until the Libyans deposited five hundred million U.S. dollars in a German bank. The four-year project took six years and is now complete, which is a miracle and a testament to the tenacity of Lannak. The company met the terms of its contract. The Libyans have not. The overruns were horrendous. The Libyan government owes Lannak four hundred million and won’t pay. Thus, our claim.”

Luca put down his cigarette, picked up a remote, and aimed it at a flat screen on the wall. Wires ran from the screen to the floor where they joined other wires that snaked away in all directions. The current demands of technology required all kinds of devices, and since the walls were solid stone and two feet thick, the IT guys did not drill. Mitch adored the contrast between the old and new: the latest gadgets wedged into a sprawling maze of rooms built before electricity and designed to last forever.

The image on the screen was a color photo of a bridge, a towering suspension bridge over a dried-up riverbed with six-lane highways running to and from. Luca said, “This is the Great Gaddafi Bridge in central Libya, over an unnamed river yet to be found. It was and is a foolish idea because there are no people in the region and no one wants to go there. However, there is plenty of oil and maybe the bridge will get used after all. Lannak doesn’t really care. It’s not paid to plan Libya’s future. It signed a contract to build the bridge and upheld its end of the deal. Now our client wants to be paid.”

Mitch enjoyed the conversation and wondered where it was going. He had a hunch and tried to control his excitement.

Luca stubbed out his cigarette and closed his eyes as if in pain. He punched the remote and the screen went blank. “I filed the claim in October with the United Arbitration Board in Geneva.”

“I’ve been there several times.”

“I know, and that’s why I want you to take this case.”

Mitch tried to maintain a poker face but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Okay. Why me?”

“Because I know you can represent our client effectively, you can prevail in the case, and because we need an American in charge. The board’s chairman, more formally known as the ruling magistrate, is from Harvard. Six of the twenty judges are American. There are three from Asia and they usually go along with the Americans. I want you to take the case, Mitch, because I probably won’t be around to see it through.” His voice faded as he thought about dying.

“I’m honored, Luca. Of course I’ll take the case.”

“Good. I talked to Jack Ruch this morning and got the green light. New York is on board. Omar Celik, Lannak’s CEO, will be in London next week and I’ll try to arrange a meeting. The file is already thick, thousands of pages, so you need to catch up.”

“I can’t wait. Do the Libyans have a defense to the claim?”