“That close?”
“Right. But what the hell does this have to do with my liability coverage, Wayne? You’re like my goddamned automobile insurance broker. Wants to know all about the accident while I want to know when you’re going to pay.”
Metz forced a smile. “It’s all related.”
“Is it?” Johnson could sense that Metz was about to make a proposition, and he tried to look less intimidating and more receptive. He sat down on a high stool and smiled. “What are you getting at, Wayne? Time’s wasting.”
“I can speak freely?”
“Sure. Just cut through all the bullshit and give it to me straight. If it sounds good for Ed Johnson and Trans-United, you probably have a deal. But if it sounds good for Wayne Metz and company, I’m going to toss your ass out of this office. Hurry. I have to call ATC.”
Metz stood. He looked at Ed Johnson for a long time, then spoke softly. “Ed… the Straton has to go down. And it has to go down over the water, not over land. No survivors on the aircraft. No further casualties on the ground.”
Johnson stood also. Metz’s proposition was not a complete surprise. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
Metz exhaled softly. Johnson had not immediately thrown him out of the office, and that in itself was encouraging. He knew enough to say nothing further.
Johnson turned and faced the Pacific chart. He stared up at it, then looked down at the floor and began pacing. He stopped and stared at Metz. “Okay. I’ll bite. What do we gain if it goes down in the drink?”
Metz knew he was in a position to score. He let the silence drag on, then he spoke. “We gain everything. We save our companies, our jobs, and we insure our future prosperity in this rat race of life.”
“All that? Sounds great. And all we have to do is commit mass murder.”
“This is no joke, Ed.”
“No, it’s not. Murder is no joke.” He paused. “And how would you propose we deep-six that Straton? There are no guided missiles or fighters in our fleet at the moment.”
“We’ll come to that later-if you’re interested.” Metz glanced at the door as though he were offering to leave.
Johnson pretended not to see the offer. “I’m interested. I’m interested in listening.”
Metz nodded. “All right. Listen to this. Beneficial’s liability potential is manageable if those people die. The death benefit wouldn’t be pleasant to pay, but it’s within our calculable exposure. We’ll pay it all, and we won’t involve Trans-United.” He paused. “But
… if they come back and that pilot is correct about their condition, our liability is enormous. Beyond enormous. It would bankrupt Beneficial Insurance and-”
“Before they paid all the bills?”
“That’s right. We will be totally liable for each of those three hundred poor bastards for the remainder of their lives. And we’d be totally liable to every relative and organization that is dependent on them. Potentially, that liability might span another seventy-five years.”
“And Trans-United might get stuck for the amount you couldn’t pay?”
“That’s right. The amount we couldn’t pay, plus the amount we don’t have to pay because of the limits of liability on your policy. Your limits of liability are very high, but I know you’ll exceed it if that aircraft lands.”
“Maybe it won’t exceed it.”
“I’m talking billions, Ed. Billions. And let me just mention again, without you getting too excited, that Beneficial will undoubtedly subrogate against Trans-United. In other words, we’ll try to stick you with half the bills from the first dollar on by going to court and claiming negligence on your part. And that won’t be too hard to do. The bomb was on the Straton because your people allowed it to be there. There have been cases like this before, you know; Trans-United will be guilty of contributory negligence. Poor security. Poor supervision. Inadequate safeguards. Look at what Lockerbie did to the old Pan Am-it was what finally drove them out of business. Besides, maybe you’ve done something in your maintenance or engineering programs that’ll look bad in hindsight. You know, the Valujet scenario. Then Beneficial will gang up with the FAA and make you look real bad.”
“I’m not buying that,” Johnson said, but in his heart he knew that it was all true. Even if the basic cause of the accident was an onboard bomb and nothing more, the lawyers and government bureaucrats could still make his maintenance economy program look responsible. Pan Am had some Arabs blow a 747 out of the sky, and eventually it put them out of business. Valujet put the wrong shipment into the cargo compartment of that doomed DC-9 out of Miami, and the FAA shut the airline down a few weeks later for bad maintenance. Metz was absolutely right.
Metz shrugged. “You’re not the jury. And there’s no sense arguing with me. This is the age of liability and automatic fault. Cause and effect. Modern logic says that whenever something goes wrong, then it must be someone’s fault. Risk avoidance is today’s buzzword. Try to convince a judge and jury that the Straton just ran into a shitload of bad luck and see how sympathetic they’ll be to Trans-United. Picture, if you will, three hundred drooling plaintiffs in the courtroom. We’ll take you right down the tube with us. The FAA would probably ground you-at least for a month or two. It’ll make them look more efficient to the press.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right about that.”
“It’s a tough business. Tougher when you don’t have an insurance pool.”
“We fucked up there, didn’t we?” Johnson said.
“Sure did,” Metz agreed.
Johnson sat heavily into a chair. “You bastard. Okay. You just try to prove negligence, then.”
Metz moved to the door. He put his hand on the knob, then turned to Johnson. “Ed, I’m sorry I suggested such a thing. The best we can hope for now is that the Straton lands with a minimum loss of life on the ground. Just do us all a favor and suggest to ATC that they try to land him at sea, near a rescue ship. San Francisco is a nice town. I wouldn’t want to see a Straton 797 plow through it.”
Johnson waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Spare me that bullshit.”
Metz nodded. “All right. But I won’t spare you from the truth.” He paused and seemed to be lost in thought. “When I think of the liability of a few thousand people on the ground… over four hundred tons of steel and aviation fuel… Jesus Christ. It would be a holocaust. Think of it. Think of it. Property damage in the hundreds of millions… Well, at least we don’t insure the hull. Save a hundred million bucks there.”
“A hundred and twenty-five million,” Johnson said.
“Right. Well, there’s the chance the Straton will land at the airport. But it might crash into a crowded passenger terminal or plow into a couple of taxiing airliners. Which reminds me, aren’t you supposed to notify the airport of a possible crash landing or something? How about the city of San Francisco… Civil Defense or something?” He paused. “And remember, even if we don’t stick you with negligence, you still have to cover everything that exceeds your limits of liability and everything we can’t cover because of bankruptcy.” He let a second pass, then continued, “Beneficial might be able to restructure the company. Trans-United, on the other hand, will go under for good. This is potentially the biggest bad-news media event of the decade. No one even cares to know the name of the insurance company involved. But the Trans-United logo will become as notorious as the swastika. Front page of Time, for Christ’s sake. And not just for a week or two, as with most accidents. No, sir, if that plane smacks into Frisco, or especially if it lands, the attorneys will parade those poor bastards through the courts… through the media. Three hundred human beings whose brains have been turned to mashed potatoes. You will personally spend the next ten years in courtrooms. And there won’t be a lot of people lined up at your ticket counters in the interim. If we don’t take you down, the FAA will and the press will. It’s happened in the past, for less nightmarish accidents.”