The Exchange: After The Firm

“The usual truckload of absurdities. Defective design, defective materials, unnecessary delays, lack of supervision, lack of control, unnecessary cost overruns. The Libyan government uses the Reedmore law firm out of London for its dirty work, and you will not enjoy the experience. They are extremely aggressive and quite unethical.”

“I know them. And our claim is bulletproof?”

Luca smiled at the question and said, “Well, as the attorney who filed the claim, I’ll say that I have complete confidence in my client. Here’s an example, Mitch. In the original design, the Libyans wanted a superhighway approaching the bridge from both directions. Eight lanes, mind you. There are not enough cars in the entire country to fill eight lanes. And they wanted eight lanes over the river. Lannak really balked and eventually convinced them that a four-lane bridge was more than adequate. The contract says four lanes. At some point, Gaddafi reviewed the project and asked about the eight lanes. He went nuts when his people told him the bridge would have only four lanes. The King wanted eight! Lannak finally talked him down to six and demanded a change order from the original design. Expanding from four lanes to six added about two hundred million to the job, and the Libyans are now refusing to pay that. It was one major change order after another. To complicate matters, the market for crude oil cratered and Gaddafi ordered some stiff belt-tightening, which in Libya means everything gets reduced but the military. When the Libyans were a hundred million dollars in arrears, Lannak threatened to stop working. So Gaddafi, being Gaddafi, sent the army, his revolutionary goons, to the job site to monitor the progress. No one got hurt but things were tense. At about the time the bridge was finished, someone in Tripoli woke up and realized that it would never be used. So the Libyans lost interest in the project and refused to pay.”

“So Lannak is finished?”

“All but the final punch list. The company always finishes, regardless of what the lawyers are doing. I suggest you go to Libya as soon as possible.”

“And it’s safe?”

Luca smiled and shrugged and seemed winded. “As safe as ever. I’ve been there several times, Mitch, and know it well. Gaddafi can be unstable, but he has an iron grip on the military and the police and there’s very little crime. The country is full of foreign workers and he has to protect them. You’ll have a security team. You’ll be safe.”

For lunch, they strolled across the piazza to an outdoor bistro covered with large umbrellas. Without stopping, Luca smiled at the hostess, said something to a waiter, and by the time he arrived at his table the owner was greeting him with hugs and kisses. Mitch had eaten there before, and he often wondered why Luca chose the same place every day. In a city filled with great restaurants, why not explore a little? Again, though, he said nothing. He was an extra in Luca’s world and thrilled to be included.

A waiter poured sparkling water but did not offer menus. Luca wanted the usual — a small seafood salad with arugula and a side of sliced tomatoes in olive oil. Mitch ordered the same.

“Wine, Mitch?” Luca asked.

“Only if you do.”

“I’ll pass.” The waiter left.

“Mitch, I have a favor to ask.”

At that moment, how could Mitch possibly say no to any request? “What is it?”

“You’ve met my daughter, Giovanna.”

“Yes, we had dinner in New York, twice I think. She was a summer intern for a law firm. Skadden, I believe.”

“That’s right. Well, as you know, she’s in our London office, fifth year there, and doing well. I’ve discussed the Lannak case with her and she’s eager to get involved. She’s been cramped in the office for some time, the ninety hours a week routine, and she wants some fresh air and sunshine. You’ll need several associates for the busywork, and I want you to include Giovanna. She’s very bright and works hard. You won’t be disappointed, Mitch.”

And, as Mitch vividly recalled, she was quite attractive.

It was an easy request. There was plenty of grunt work ahead — documents to read and categorize, discovery to decipher, depositions to plan, briefs to write. Mitch would supervise it all, but the tedium would be delegated to associates.

“Let’s sign her up,” he said. “I’ll call and welcome her aboard.”

“Thank you, Mitch. She will be pleased. I’m trying to convince her to return to Rome, at least for the next year. I need her close by.”

Mitch nodded but could think of nothing to say. The food arrived and they busied themselves with lunch. The piazza was coming to life with midday traffic, as office workers left their buildings in search of something to eat. The foot traffic was fascinating and Mitch never tired of watching the people.

Luca stopped eating as a sudden pain stiffened his back. It passed and he smiled at Mitch, as if all was well.

“Ever been to Libya, Mitch?”

“No. It’s never been on my list.”