“It’s all Icould get at the last minute. I intended to stay at a cottage on the other sideof the island, but those plans fell through. However, these accommodationsaren’t too bad. I’m quite happy to settle here.”
Settle? Tim could just imagine his family,especially Jill, freaking out over the floor-to-ceiling window view of thecrystal-blue sea, along with the suite’s simple yet luxurious furnishings. Hewondered how much a room like this cost. It probably had to be many, many one-hundred-twenty-seven-dollardinners.
“Would you likea drink?” Connor gestured toward a wet bar in the corner of the room.
“Water is fine,thanks.”
“After all thehassle you endured to simply get up here, the least I can do is fix you a real drink. If you prefer one of those tropicalthings that you had when we met earlier, I can call downstairs and they’llbring it up in no time.”
Tim felt likeConnor was getting a dig in at him with the “tropical” comment, but he decidedto let it slide. No reason to get off to an even-rougher start than theyalready were. “No, thanks. If you want to make it upto me, you can grant me more interview time than the forty-five minutes you’veallotted.”
“You drive ahard bargain.” Connor handed Tim a crystal glass filled with water. “How aboutwe stick to the original agreement, and if you find you need more time, I’llgive you an extra ten?”
Ooh, don’t get carried away with the generosity. Tim nodded inagreement. “I’d appreciate that.”
Connor led himto the dining area, and they sat on opposite sides of a glass-top table with anorchid centerpiece between them.
Tim took out histape recorder. “I hope you don’t mind if I use this. My shorthand is atrocious,so a tape recorder helps a lot.”
“Onlyif you don’t mind my using one as well.” Connor pulled a small device outof the front pocket of his white button-down shirt. “I find it handy to have myown records, should a disagreement arise between us later on.”
Paranoid much? Tim wanted toask. They hadn’t even started and already Connor was anticipating problems.He’d planned to start with a few softball questions, but since it looked likeConnor wouldn’t pull any punches, Tim decided neither would he. He pulled outhis pen and pad, hit the record button, and said, “I’d like to start by askingyou about your health. It’s clear that you’ve lost a great deal of weight. Isthis is result of an illness or medical treatment?”
Connor flinchedand Tim felt a tiny stab of regret. For a moment Connor didn’t look like animperious billionaire deigning to give an interview. He seemed like a man whohad been through a great deal in recent months and was still coming to termswith it.
“I… ah… well….”Connor ran a hand through his short blond hair. “Fuck it. Three months ago, Ihad a heart attack and had to undergo a quadruple bypass.”
Startled, Timdropped his pen, but Connor continued.
“Complicationsdeveloped after my surgery that led to a deteriorationin my condition and necessitated my staying in the hospital far longer thanexpected. And as you can see”—Connor held out his arms in an open, expansivegesture—“my recovery is still a work in progress. I’m not back to a hundredpercent, but the prognosis is significantly better than it was this time lastmonth.”
Holy shit! Tim turned off his recorder. “You know,I think I will have that drink.”
Connor let out adry laugh as he slid a lever on his recorder, presumably turning it off. “Betyou didn’t see that coming.”
“Nope, can’t saythat I did.” Tim got up, went over to the wet bar, and made himself a vodkatonic. After finishing the drink in three successive gulps, he made another. Onlythen did he feel ready to sit back down and face Connor again. He looked at therecorder but decided to leave it off for the time being. “I haven’t heard eventhe vaguest hint about this. How did you manage to keep the news of yourcondition under the radar?”
“I suppose youcould call it luck.” Connor let out another bitter chuckle. “I’d just wrappedup a meeting with Warren Buffett in Omaha, Nebraska, and was preparing toreturn to Philadelphia when I felt a tightness in mychest. I wanted to disregard it, but Claire, my personal assistant, is from thearea, and she insisted we go to her father, who’s a general practitioner, so hecould check it out.
“I wanted towait to go to my own doctor in Philadelphia, but the pain got worse, so I gavein and went to Claire’s father. I vaguely remember a car taking us to hisoffice, but everything got hazy after that. Apparently, I’d gone into a full-blowncardiac arrest only minutes after our arrival. Claire’s father had access to aprivate ambulance, and she registered me in the hospital under an assumed name.It probably wasn’t necessary, since no one in Omaha neither knows nor cares whoConnor Albright is. If this happened to somewhere on the East Coast or inSilicon Valley, I’m sure you people would have been all over it.”
Tim’s jawtightened at the “you people,” but he took another swig of the vodka tonic andfelt calmer. “You’re the founder and CEO of one of the country’s most importantmedia companies. Of course, we reporters would have covered the story had weknown about it. The potential financial and technological ramifications arehuge. It would be irresponsible of us to notcover the story. You should give Claire a huge raise because, trust me, evenpeople in Omaha know who you are. It was probably her due diligence that keptthe Omaha press off your ass.”
“You’re probablyright.” Connor stared down at his hands, clasped in front of him.
“Not telling thepress is one thing, but didn’t you have an ethical obligation to informshareholders?”
Connor’sexpression, which had started to border on friendly, turned hostile. “My healthis my own personal business. A few days after the surgery, I informed the boardof directors of the procedure. That fulfilled the
