The reply arrived forty minutes later.
It was from Victor Hale.
Naomi,
I believe you are misunderstanding the purpose of the agreement. We require professional discretion, not an adversarial relationship. If you wish to work with us, I suggest you focus on the assignment rather than trying to renegotiate our internal procedures.
Victor Hale
Naomi stared at the screen.
She had not asked to renegotiate his internal procedures.
She had asked for the conditions necessary to perform the work he had described.
She drafted a reply.
Mr. Hale,
Professional discretion and independent analysis are not mutually exclusive. I am willing to review the project objectively, but I cannot accept responsibility for an assessment if the conditions prevent me from reporting material findings accurately.
If the company prefers a different arrangement, I understand.
Naomi Carter
She sent it.
Then she closed her laptop.
She had done what she could.
At noon, Victor called.
Naomi was on her break, sitting in the small staff room behind the kitchen. She looked at the number on her phone and nearly let it go to voicemail.
Instead, she answered.
“Naomi Carter.”
“It's Victor.”
“I know.”
“I read your email.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you always make a simple arrangement this difficult?”
“Only when the terms are unclear.”
He sighed.
“I need someone who can help us communicate effectively with the investors. I don't need an internal auditor.”
“Then perhaps you should hire a communications consultant.”
“I need someone who understands the financial side.”
“Then you need someone who can evaluate the financial information.”
“That's exactly what I'm offering you the opportunity to do.”
“Not under the current contract.”
He was silent for a moment.
Then his voice softened.
“Let me explain something to you, Naomi. Large projects are complicated. Every company has confidential information. Investors do not receive every internal document, and consultants do not have unlimited authority to publish whatever they find.”
“I understand that.”
“Then why are you acting as though we're asking you to falsify something?”
“I'm not. I'm asking whether the report can include conclusions you disagree with.”
“Of course it can.”
“Then the contract should say so.”
“Legal language is not always as simple as you want it to be.”
Naomi looked at the staff-room clock.
Her break was nearly over.
“Mr. Hale, I don't think we're going to resolve this by phone.”
“Perhaps we should meet.”
“I don't think that's necessary.”
“Let me finish.”
She waited.
“I can arrange a meeting with our finance director. You can review the scope with him directly. If there are legitimate concerns, we can address them.”
Naomi considered the proposal.
A direct conversation with the finance director might clarify whether Victor was simply a difficult executive or whether the company had a deeper problem with transparency.
She did not want to work for Victor.
But she did want to understand the project.
“What is the finance director's name?” she asked.
“Richard Cole.”
“Would he have authority to agree to the reporting conditions?”
“He would have authority to discuss them.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
Victor exhaled sharply.
“You have a talent for making every answer sound inadequate.”
“I'm trying to establish what I would be agreeing to.”
“Fine. I'll ask Richard to contact you.”
Naomi thought for a moment.
“I'll attend one meeting. That doesn't mean I've accepted the contract.”
“Understood.”
“And I won't sign anything at the meeting.”
“Fine.”
She heard irritation in his voice, but she also heard something else.
Urgency.
Victor was accustomed to getting what he wanted through a mixture of charm, authority, and pressure. His frustration suggested that the usual methods were not producing the result he expected.
That did not prove anything about the project.
It did, however, reinforce her decision to proceed cautiously.
The meeting took place the following afternoon at Hale Urban Holdings' headquarters.
The company's offices occupied several floors of a glass-and-steel building overlooking the financial district. The lobby was filled with polished stone, carefully arranged plants, and a reception desk staffed by people who appeared to have been trained to recognize important visitors before those visitors introduced themselves.
Naomi arrived wearing a dark gray suit she had not worn in three years.
It still fit, although the sleeves needed minor alterations.
She carried a plain folder and a notebook.
At reception, she gave her name.
The receptionist checked a screen, then smiled.
“Mr. Cole is expecting you. Someone will take you upstairs.”
Naomi followed a young employee to the elevator.
On the twenty-third floor, she stepped into a corridor lined with framed photographs of buildings, construction sites, and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.
The waterfront project appeared in several of them.
One image showed Victor Hale standing beside a city official, both men smiling beneath a banner that announced a new era for San Francisco's waterfront.
Another showed a digital rendering of the proposed development: towers of glass, landscaped terraces, a public promenade, and a marina filled with small white boats.
It was an attractive vision.
Naomi wondered how much of it depended on assumptions that had not yet been verified.
Richard Cole met her outside a conference room.
He was in his late forties, with thinning brown hair and a careful, professional manner. Unlike Victor, he did not fill silence with stories about his own importance.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Richard Cole. Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for meeting with me.”
He shook her hand and led her into the room.
A laptop sat at one end of a long table. Several documents were arranged in neat stacks. A glass wall overlooked the city.