A King's ransom

44

At 11:00 A.M. Jenna and I were seated side by side in the St. George’s office of Cool Cash. Frankly, I’d been unaware that the firm even had a Bermuda office. Nice place to hold firm retreats for partners, I presumed. The office had just one resident barrister, who was currently seated at the end of the table reading the Wall Street Journal. The real warriors were seated across the table, Duncan from Miami and Maggie Johans from New York. As general counsel, Maggie was evidently staying right on top of every phase of the case.

It had taken some doing for me to get out of Nicaragua in time for the deposition, and I never did get to talk with Guillermo. That would have to wait.

“Swear the witness, please,” I told the stenographer.

Jason Lee was a vice president of Quality Insurance Company based in St. George’s. He was a large man, husky but not fat, with salt-and-pepper hair that was thinning on top. His attire was the Bermuda businessman’s uniform, khaki shorts and knee socks, oxford-cloth shirt and blue blazer.

I covered the requisite preliminaries, and just as soon as I started asking questions of substance, Duncan jumped on me with objections. It was getting annoying, and I prepared for the worst as I moved to the heart of the matter.

“Mr. Lee, why did Quality Insurance deny coverage?”

He sipped his water. “Legal reasons.”

“Not to be flip, but the whole point here is to determine whether the reasons were legal. So let me try again: Why did Quality Insurance Company deny coverage?”

“We denied coverage on the advice of our legal counsel.”

Duncan grumbled and said, “At this point I wish to caution the witness not to divulge any communications with the company’s legal counsel. Those are protected by the attorney-client privilege.”

It was the kind of speaking objection that was designed to coach the witness, and I wasn’t going to let Duncan get away with it. “I’m not asking the witness to tell me what his lawyer’s advice was. I simply want to know the factual basis for the company’s decision to deny coverage.”

Lee answered, “I’m afraid I can’t possibly tell you the factual basis without revealing the nature of the legal advice.”

“Just tell me the facts that you presented to your lawyer.”

“It’s all intertwined. It’s protected by the attorney-client privilege.”

“This is the most ridiculous interpretation of the attorney-client privilege I’ve ever heard.”

“Then take it up with the judge,” said Duncan.

“The court has already ordered your client to tell us why it denied coverage. Either Mr. Lee is going to answer my questions or I’ll file a motion for sanctions.”

Duncan raised his hands, mocking me. “Oh, gee. In that case, we give up. I’ll have a cashier’s check in the full amount of the three-million-dollar policy in your hands before the close of business today.”

Maggie chuckled and said, “Or perhaps your family and its so-called Nicaraguan fishing company would be more comfortable dealing with a suitcaseful of cash.”

They shared a good laugh, and then Duncan glanced at the stenographer and said, “Those last remarks are off the record.”

“No way,” I said. “I want it all on the transcript.”

The Bermuda barrister at the end of the table looked up from his Wall Street Journal, made eye contact with the stenographer, and simply cleared his throat. It was clear that the remarks would be off the record.

Maggie smirked, pleased with the teamwork.

“Tell you what,” I said. “Let’s call Judge Korvan in Miami right now. See what she has to say about your objections.”

The barrister jumped in again, sounding very British. “Actually, the proper procedure in these particular circumstances is to petition a judge who has jurisdiction in Bermuda. I’ll ring Uncle Henry straightaway, get a direct answer for you chaps.”

“Excellent idea,” said Maggie.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said flatly. “We’ll call Judge Korvan, who’s nobody’s uncle.”

“How long is this going to take?” asked Lee. “I have a two o’clock tee time at Mid Ocean.”

“You’ll make your tee time,” said Duncan.

“Don’t be so sure,” I said.

“Oh, I’m quite sure,” said Duncan. His tone was beyond confident, as if somehow he knew it was an absolute certainty.

I could feel my anger rising, but Jenna reeled me in with a gentle tug on the elbow.

Duncan said, “Go ahead, hotshot. Make your phone call.”

We exchanged a cold glare, then I picked up the phone and dialed Judge Korvan’s chambers.

All eyes were on the speakerphone in the center of the conference table. We were waiting to hear the voice of the Honorable Judge Penas.

My telephone call to Judge Korvan had been rerouted. For reasons unexplained, Judge Korvan had just today recused herself from the case. Her replacement was Humberto Penas, a puppet who owed his seat on the Miami-Dade County bench to none other than Duncan Fitz.

Finally his secretary announced his arrival, and we heard the judge’s voice over the box. “Good afternoon to all of you.”

Duncan seized the lead and introduced everyone. When the judge asked Duncan about his kids-identifying them by name, grade in school, and favorite sport-I knew I was in trouble.

“So what seems to be the trouble in Bermuda?” the judge asked.

I said, “Your Honor, there’s a dispute over discovery-”

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Rey. Why is there any discovery going on in this case?”

“Because the insurance company has denied coverage, and we need to prove they were wrong.”

“I spoke to Judge Korvan about this case, and I have to tell you, I think she totally missed the boat. I don’t see why Mr. Fitz’s client should be subjected to intrusive discovery into its business decisions at this stage of the game.”

“It’s hardly intrusive, Your Honor. My father’s been kidnapped, and they won’t provide coverage.”

“I understand that. But your insurance policy is a reimbursement policy. It reimburses you for any ransom payment that you make. You don’t have a claim until you make a ransom payment and have an out-of-pocket loss.”

“That’s technically correct. But if the insurance company hadn’t denied coverage, I could have used the policy as security to borrow the ransom money. No bank is going to issue a line of credit against an insurance policy that is allegedly tainted with fraud.”

“That’s very speculative, Mr. Rey.”

“The insurance company is also supposed to pay for my negotiator. They aren’t doing that.”

Duncan said, “That’s a disingenuous argument he’s making, Judge. We happen to know for a fact that the negotiator we originally assigned to this case is still working with Mr. Rey under some kind of agreement they’ve worked out.”

“Is that true, Mr. Rey?”

“Her decision to stay on is certainly no doing of Quality Insurance Company’s.”

“I asked you a simple question: Is she still helping you?”

“Yes, and I still have to pay her.”

“How much have you paid her so far?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Has she billed you?”

“Technically, no. She said we’d work that out later. I fully intend to pay her something.”

Duncan was smiling. Maggie poked him in the ribs, urging him on. “Judge, this wasn’t the point of the telephone call, but I think we’ve gotten to the nub here. My client’s only purpose in bringing this matter before Judge Korvan was to enforce the confidentiality provisions in the policy. With all due respect to Judge Korvan, you seem to have a better handle on things than she did. The resolution of Mr. Rey’s claims is for another day.”

“But-”

“I think I’ve got it,” said the judge. “I’ll fax you an order before five o’clock. Good day.”

The judge disconnected. Maggie hung up from our end, then looked at me and said, “That went rather well, don’t you think?”

“Go to hell, all of you.” I glanced at the stenographer and said, “You can put that on the record.”