Odds Against Tomorrow Read Online Free Page B
saw that he was going to have to wait this through.
“Listen,” said Charnoble. “I’m not immoral or anything like that.”
“Of course not.”
“It’s only that disasters happen, no matter how much you prepare. Just because you build a bomb shelter doesn’t mean you’ll be inside when the bombs fall. And if it’s not a bombing, it’s a war, a tsunami, an envelope stuffed with ricin. An earthquake .”
He appeared to be a snake, this guy. But he wasn’t quite guileful enough. The real reptiles never look like reptiles—they’re too skilled at camouflage. Still, it made Mitchell wonder: When he went on about his worst-case scenarios, did he sound like Charnoble? He doubted it. He didn’t have the rank phoniness, the condescension, the folksy camaraderie. People like Charnoble—and Fitzsimmons was full of them, especially in Securities and Lender Finance—were interested in risk for purely financial reasons. They saw the wedges that risk offered, the way you could use risk to get between clients and their money. Mitchell’s fear, on the other hand, was real, hot, viral. Just the previous night he couldn’t sleep because he’d been trying to figure out why a global pandemic as severe as the influenza of 1918 hadn’t recurred, and whether one was imminent. He had read about a new superbug called New Delhi metallo-beta-lactamase, or NDM-1. This Indian bug was a product of the twenty-first century, resistant to antibiotics. In the last four decades, scientists had discovered nearly no new antibiotics; an airborne mutation of NDM-1 would be unvanquishable. It would quickly contaminate every hospital in the world. There would be no cancer treatment, transplants, care of preterm babies, even tonsillectomies or appendectomies, without the risk of fatal infection. NDM-1—this was the kind of thing that Mitchell pondered. Not just NDM-1, but also its inevitable heirs: NDM-2, NDM-3, NDM-4, each mutation more aggressive than the last. The youngest child always caused the most trouble. Until the next one came along.
“As we’ve learned,” Charnoble continued, “whenever there’s a catastrophe, Corporate is vulnerable. Corporate has to clean up the mess—in a manner of speaking. This is where FutureWorld comes in.”
“So FutureWorld protects the company against disaster? That’s impossible.”
“You’re right. We don’t protect. We advise . We predict catastrophes, calculate their costs, and help our clients avoid unnecessary risk.”
Mitchell sat with this for a second. “What’s in it for them? The clients, I mean. If another earthquake comes, they’re doomed, no matter what advice you’ve given them.”
“If a disaster does occur, we serve as a hired scapegoat. We indemnify you when your insurance company won’t.”
“We’re talking great fires, twisters, solar storms.”
Charnoble nodded. “Suitcase bomb, water supply poisoning, hantavirus. In court, the corporation can testify that they hired FutureWorld, a risk management specialist. They paid us eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year—”
“Eight fifty?”
“That’s just the retainer. The point is that the client can say, ‘If our business was not sufficiently prepared, it is the fault of FutureWorld, whom we hired to advise us—at the formidable rate of eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars—for this exact service.’”
Mitchell couldn’t figure out why Charnoble was trying to win him over.
“So we would pay for the right to blame you.”
“Exactly,” said Charnoble. “So you can’t be accused of negligence. This is, in legal terms, a buck-passing. A ripcord. FutureWorld serves as a get-out-of-jail-free card. In a manner of speaking.”
“So you’re offering catastrophe coverage. You’re offering a service that insurance companies no longer offer.”
“I’ll put it like this. When, after 2001, insurance firms stopped providing catastrophe coverage, a void was created in the market. We plan to
“Listen,” said Charnoble. “I’m not immoral or anything like that.”
“Of course not.”
“It’s only that disasters happen, no matter how much you prepare. Just because you build a bomb shelter doesn’t mean you’ll be inside when the bombs fall. And if it’s not a bombing, it’s a war, a tsunami, an envelope stuffed with ricin. An earthquake .”
He appeared to be a snake, this guy. But he wasn’t quite guileful enough. The real reptiles never look like reptiles—they’re too skilled at camouflage. Still, it made Mitchell wonder: When he went on about his worst-case scenarios, did he sound like Charnoble? He doubted it. He didn’t have the rank phoniness, the condescension, the folksy camaraderie. People like Charnoble—and Fitzsimmons was full of them, especially in Securities and Lender Finance—were interested in risk for purely financial reasons. They saw the wedges that risk offered, the way you could use risk to get between clients and their money. Mitchell’s fear, on the other hand, was real, hot, viral. Just the previous night he couldn’t sleep because he’d been trying to figure out why a global pandemic as severe as the influenza of 1918 hadn’t recurred, and whether one was imminent. He had read about a new superbug called New Delhi metallo-beta-lactamase, or NDM-1. This Indian bug was a product of the twenty-first century, resistant to antibiotics. In the last four decades, scientists had discovered nearly no new antibiotics; an airborne mutation of NDM-1 would be unvanquishable. It would quickly contaminate every hospital in the world. There would be no cancer treatment, transplants, care of preterm babies, even tonsillectomies or appendectomies, without the risk of fatal infection. NDM-1—this was the kind of thing that Mitchell pondered. Not just NDM-1, but also its inevitable heirs: NDM-2, NDM-3, NDM-4, each mutation more aggressive than the last. The youngest child always caused the most trouble. Until the next one came along.
“As we’ve learned,” Charnoble continued, “whenever there’s a catastrophe, Corporate is vulnerable. Corporate has to clean up the mess—in a manner of speaking. This is where FutureWorld comes in.”
“So FutureWorld protects the company against disaster? That’s impossible.”
“You’re right. We don’t protect. We advise . We predict catastrophes, calculate their costs, and help our clients avoid unnecessary risk.”
Mitchell sat with this for a second. “What’s in it for them? The clients, I mean. If another earthquake comes, they’re doomed, no matter what advice you’ve given them.”
“If a disaster does occur, we serve as a hired scapegoat. We indemnify you when your insurance company won’t.”
“We’re talking great fires, twisters, solar storms.”
Charnoble nodded. “Suitcase bomb, water supply poisoning, hantavirus. In court, the corporation can testify that they hired FutureWorld, a risk management specialist. They paid us eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year—”
“Eight fifty?”
“That’s just the retainer. The point is that the client can say, ‘If our business was not sufficiently prepared, it is the fault of FutureWorld, whom we hired to advise us—at the formidable rate of eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars—for this exact service.’”
Mitchell couldn’t figure out why Charnoble was trying to win him over.
“So we would pay for the right to blame you.”
“Exactly,” said Charnoble. “So you can’t be accused of negligence. This is, in legal terms, a buck-passing. A ripcord. FutureWorld serves as a get-out-of-jail-free card. In a manner of speaking.”
“So you’re offering catastrophe coverage. You’re offering a service that insurance companies no longer offer.”
“I’ll put it like this. When, after 2001, insurance firms stopped providing catastrophe coverage, a void was created in the market. We plan to
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