People in the country had the impression that Washington was working like a business—largely because it was being run by the very same sorts of people who regularly managed big companies. Ayn Rand’s many acolytes had finally gotten the Washington of their dreams.
Will admired most of his peers in the financial and business world who were mostly after one thing—sound management of resources and finances for the benefit of large, institutional shareholders who demanded steady, increasing value in publicly traded companies. Will himself was accustomed to such serious pursuits.
As a child, he’d been drawn to the sorts of things that adults did. He’d begun to read books about finance and business when he was only 11. While others read fantasy and science fiction, Will was drawn to thick books on banking and industry. As a Worthington family heir, he felt a much greater burden to succeed, to lead, and to understand the world around him so he could control it most effectively.
Now, as an adult and financial leader in his own right, he admired those who did whatever it took to seize control of the reins of power in Washington and run the country, the way a strong-willed parent might run a family or a powerful CEO might run a publicly traded company. He admired it, but he didn’t necessarily have to agree with it.
Drew interrupted his thoughts. “Strange meeting, wasn’t it?”
“To say the least.” Will strode along the broad sidewalk south of Central Park. He’d wanted to clear his mind after the aborted meeting, and a brisk walk around and through the park made the most sense. Drew had joined him for the walk, as Will had known he would.
A horse pulling one of the expensive carriages that waited patiently for tourists rolled a lazy eye in their direction, then chose the moment they walked by to relieve itself. Will saw Drew wrinkle his nose and laughed. He didn’t mind the smell, really. It was part and parcel of the allure of Central Park. You either accepted it or you didn’t. And Will accepted it for what it was.
They turned left into the park on the East Side, opposite from the curious Apple retail store that was mostly just four big windows, two stories high. Tourists lined up to go inside, browse a bit, and then leave with a story to tell about the odd-looking store near Madison Avenue on the east side of New York.
“So what happens now, do you think?” Drew asked.
“I think Sandstrom intends to use the White House as a shield, to keep the board from sacking him just yet.”
Drew lifted a brow. “Will it work?”
“It might. If the White House insists on accountability from the existing American Frontier leadership in the middle of the crisis, then it’s impossible to press for a change now. And if the spill drags out for a time, which it might, and he does a good job managing the media firestorm around it, he might stand a chance of staying.”
“But you doubt that, don’t you?”
“I doubt he has the skills, either for the media or for the politics,” Will said as he weaved his way around the tourists who always populated the sidewalks of the broad entrances to the park.
“So how . . . ?”
“Because the president’s financial and political backers might insist on no change while the crisis is under way,” Will explained. “Which is what I’d do if I were Sandstrom and if I’d been helpful in putting this particular president in his job in the first place.”
“Sir, if I might offer an opinion?”
It was the “sir” that slowed Will momentarily because it was so out of place. One glance at the older man, whose brown hair was flecked with gray, told Will that was exactly why Drew had said it. Drew knew him well. That he’d stay on one particular mind track until presented with something that seemed out of order. Then he’d be startled into paying attention.
“Always welcome, Drew,” Will said evenly. “You know that. So what is it?”
“If you are serious about pursuing this—and I’m reserving judgment on whether that’s a prudent course or not—then I believe you should very publicly challenge the American Frontier CEO, regardless of whatever protection and comfort the White House might afford him. You should . . . how is it that you always put it . . . ‘call him out into the street’?”
Will burst out laughing. “Very good! Yes, that’s an apt way to put it. Good to see all those Westerns we watched being useful.”
When Will was nine years old, he’d discovered old Western movies and had loved them so much he’d begged Drew to watch a few with him. Three Amigos had become one of Will’s favorites. There was something black-and-white about Westerns that he loved. Maybe it was that the good guys always win and the bad guys are always punished. In the days of the Old West, calling someone out into the street was a quick and public way to take out an enemy . . . or, in this case, another candidate for your job.
“I think you should call Mr. Sandstrom into the street, so to speak,” Drew repeated. “If you believe that he’s led American Frontier on a path that threatens not only the shareholders—and you are certainly its most prominent shareholder—but the world’s ecosystems and biodiversity as well, you should act on that belief.”
“And how would I go about doing that?”
“Well,” he offered slowly, “I might consider paying a visit to your friend, the financial editor at the very same Wall Street Journal that predicted you were next in line to run American Frontier. They are sure to follow this story closely from all angles, from the criminal negligence case your sister will almost certainly manage, to the ramifications for the global economy.”
Will nodded. “True. This story is tailor-made for nearly every sort of reporting that they do. The owner isn’t exactly a friend, but the editor has known me for years.”
“Precisely.”
“And when I meet with him?” Will allowed a glint of conquest in his smile as he swiveled his head toward Drew.
“I’d hand him a copy of a letter, just before you postmark it and drop it in the nearest mailbox, calling for Sandstrom to step down as CEO.”
“And if he doesn’t resign?”
“Then you call him out into the street and let it be known—very publicly—that Worthington Shares intends to join in the shareholder lawsuit against American Frontier.”
“Is that wise?”
“I don’t know if it’s wise,” Drew said. “But I will say this. It may be necessary, both for the value of the Worthington Shares holdings in the company and for your own ambitions.”
Shortly thereafter, Will and Drew parted ways to head to their respective abodes. As Will pondered Drew’s words, he was struck by the possibility of soon realizing his dream—to be the CEO of American Frontier. Before the age of 40, he’d reach the pinnacle of success he dreamed of. He would control one of the most powerful companies in the world. Such a position is what he’d been groomed for, what he’d always wanted . . .
Just then, though, a still small voice inside asked, But is that really what you want, Will?
He halted midstep, confused.
The voice didn’t say anything else. Maybe he hadn’t heard it after all.
But as he reached his building and headed up the elevator to his suite, the first niggle of doubt descended. Was the trajectory he was on the right one for him?
Stepping to the window, he peered out over New York City—at the mass of humanity that moved in every direction like the fine threads of a spiderweb. He would have the opportunity to direct the forces that could influence the path of so many of those people walking below.
Straightening his shoulders, he shook off the doubt. Yes, he told himself. It’s what I was born to do.
He’d come too far to question his destiny now.
9
A SMALL PORT IN ALASKA
Ever since getting kicked off the USS Cantor by the arrival of the Navy fleet and the American Frontier team, Sean had been restless. He hated not being in the center of the action. But as “nonessential personnel,” he’d been given the boot. Thankfully, both Dr. Shapiros had been allowed to stay, and El
izabeth was still sending info Sean’s way.
Now, though, seeing his brother’s grim visage flashed across a TV screen didn’t help Sean’s frustration. Sean admired his elder sibling and wished Will well, but he was also a little jealous. He never spoke of it, except occasionally to his mother when he was at a low point in his life. So seeing Will’s face on CNN and Fox News as speculation swirled around him becoming the next CEO of American Frontier only made Sean seethe all over again.
The lives and work of all three Worthington siblings were converging on one central event. Will and Sarah were both now in the middle of the fray. But Sean, once again, was on the outside looking in.
Though people saw Will as a natural leader, Sean was sure they saw him as just the party boy. Someone interesting to the tabloids but not to be taken as a serious player. Although Sean had billions of dollars at his disposal, he largely made his way through the world on his own, almost in the shadows in between parties and media blitzes while Will stayed in the spotlight.
So when did I know I couldn’t compete with my brother? he asked himself.
He knew the answer instantly. When I was 11. When I sneaked out of that Worthington social affair and nobody noticed I was missing.
Later, he hadn’t been sure whether to smirk or roll his eyes at the predictability of it. Nobody much asked his opinion anyway, at least inside his family. Any conversation centered on Will, the perfect one, and their entertaining little sister. So what did it matter that he wasn’t there?
When that reality hit, Sean had decided he preferred to spend as much time as possible at his friends’ houses. There, at least, he was noticed and mostly understood. Since then his close-knit group of friends had become more his family than his actual family. There, among that group, he felt he truly belonged.
Yet Sean had still been the dutiful son, carving out a massive, entrepreneurial role for himself inside Worthington Shares. He’d placed big bets on nearly 100 start-ups in more than a dozen industries in the past several years. A few, thankfully, were poised to break out in big ways now that IPOs were back in vogue, and both Wall Street and Silicon Valley were willing to roll the dice on big plays again.
The secret of a successful equity fund, even one as massive as Worthington Shares, was the diversity of the portfolio of companies it had invested in. At one end, the stable end, were the shares in big, established, blue-chip companies like American Frontier. Will managed that aspect. It fit his traditional, non-risking personality all the way. But the real value—where big money was won and lost—was in the risky side of the business, where bets were placed on start-ups that had the potential to explode in value or crash big-time.
Sean had taken to that end of Worthington Shares like a duck to water. He loved the risk, the daring, the adrenaline rush he got from watching something that he’d identified begin its inexorable march toward an IPO or a big sale to a much larger company. And he craved the intermingling with others, gathering new people he grew to call his friends . . . part of his network. People who were loyal to him and could count on him too.
Sean already had three big wins in just the last five years, which was really all he needed to justify 100 failures in even a broad portfolio of start-ups. These three instances alone now delivered nearly a billion dollars in value. All of the other start-ups Sean managed could collapse or disappear altogether and it wouldn’t matter. His end of the Worthington Shares business was an unmitigated success by any measure, even if that success was never good enough for his father.
This left him more than enough time to indulge all of his other many hobbies and pursuits. He’d sailed around the world with a group of friends and had been to the top of several of the largest summits. He had plans to compete in amateur bobsledding in Switzerland. Lately he’d set his goal to zip-line at some of the most amazing and beautiful spots in the world. Already he’d zip-lined over the Great Wall of China in Simatai—a rush at a speed of nearly 100 mph—and in Labadee, Haiti, over a cove of sky-blue water. Now he was debating whether to do Gravity Canyon in New Zealand or Icy Strait Point in Alaska next.
Sean was also somewhat notorious for his single lifestyle, even though he was always seen in the midst of a growing circle. He’d been constantly photographed in the company of well-known actresses and supermodels, but there were the occasional wild rumors about why he was still single into his midthirties. Sean tried to ignore all the tabloid talk that swirled about the Worthingtons, especially him: “Keep an eye on Sean Worthington. Under that charming smile, could there be a devilish interior? A playboy who doesn’t care about the consequences?”
When he’d seen the headlines of that tabloid at a newsstand, complete with a rakish picture of himself on the cover, he’d flipped the newsstand guy a 100-dollar bill, then flung the entire stash of tabloids into the nearby trash bin without even reading the story. “Inquiring minds want to know . . . right,” he’d scoffed as he poured the remainder of his morning coffee over the papers.
As far as Sean was concerned, his personal preferences were his own business and not anyone else’s. But every so often, he did think about ending the speculation and unasked questions. Someday he’d find the right woman to marry, settle down, and have kids.
Dr. Elizabeth Shapiro flashed into his mind.
Having a wonderful, brilliant daughter-in-law would certainly make his mom happy. He caught her glancing at him every once in a while with a wistful eye and knew what that look meant. She loved Laura and being a grandmother to Will’s kids. She’d even hinted that she wished Sean would find the same kind of happiness that Will and Laura seemed to share. Then again, Sean hadn’t met anyone even remotely close to Laura. Not that he wanted someone exactly like her, but he admired her. A strong woman in her own right, she was perfect for Will. Made him lighten up. Put things in perspective when he got too intense. When Laura was around, Will was a much better human being.
And that was what Sean wanted out of a lasting relationship.
But even more, he wished for an end to the restlessness he continually felt in his heart. He didn’t know why, but it was always there. As if a piece of him was missing somehow, and he couldn’t be whole without it.
Now, however, he was on a mission. What he couldn’t tell just yet was whether he’d be in a position to help or hurt his brother when all was said and done. It depended on a variety of circumstances and factors. But one thing Sean knew. This was his moment too, and he wanted to make the most of it.
Among his many hobbies, Sean was on the board of directors of a half dozen big environmental groups. As a wealthy donor, he could sit on almost any nonprofit board of his choosing. His favorite, though, was Green Justice. American Frontier officials and shareholders disliked Green Justice a great deal, which was all the incentive Sean needed to donate money and sit on its global board.
He was the only card-carrying member of the business community on the Green Justice board. Most of Green Justice’s operations were funded on shoestring budgets by its individual members. They avoided corporate donations. But Sean had long ago earned his bona fides as a stalwart individual donor to progressive causes. So his annual gift to Green Justice to fund its core operations was welcomed.
Sean pulled his mobile from his vest pocket and scrolled to the Bs in his hundreds of social contacts. He was looking for one name in particular—Kirk Baldwin, a crusty, bald-headed fellow traveler who’d been the head of research for Green Justice for nearly 20 years now. Sean hadn’t spoken to him in a while, but it wouldn’t matter. His comrade-in-arms would jump at the chance he was about to afford him.
“Amigo!” he almost yelled into the phone once he’d dialed the contact. “How’s the battle?”
“Same as ever,” his friend answered in a raspy voice. “And I’ll bet you’re busy right about now, huh?”
“Yeah, well, my brother certainly is,” Sean said. “I’m just sitting on the sidelines, biding my time.”
“Let me guess. You want in the game?”
“I do. How’d you know?”
“I know you way too well, dude,” Kirk said. “You go where the action is. And the action, as we all know, is in the Arctic.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.” Sean didn’t mention that he’d already been there, in the middle of the action, right when it had happened. He’d save that information for a later date.
Kirk paused. “You know we’re coming after American Frontier with everything we have, right? You do know that?”
“I certainly hope so. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“So, if you’re calling on your brother’s behalf to see if you can slow us down, get us to—”
“I’m most definitely not calling on Will’s behalf, or American Frontier’s, for that matter,” Sean said much too loudly. “I would never do that. You know me, Kirk. I don’t operate like that. Ever. Not even for my brother.”
“I know.” His friend chuckled. “Just had to put it out there. Worthington Shares is their biggest shareholder, after all. The entire financial community knows it, if not the rest of the world.”
Sean rolled his eyes, even though Kirk couldn’t see it. “Have I ever done anything that would make you think I’d try to get in the way of what you all do, just because my family’s fund owns significant shares of the company? Have I?”
A slight pause, then, “No, you haven’t. And it’s what I’ve always liked about you, even if I don’t completely understand you or your motivations. So, what’s on your mind?”
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