After a moment, he said, “If anyone comes to get you, hit the panic button. I don’t care if you think they’re bringing you coffee and doughnuts, hit that button. If it’s nothing, I’ll slip away and no one will be the wiser. But you will hit that button.” “I will.” LUCAS: 6 AT SIX-THIRTY I walked into Cortez Cabal headquarters. There was no question that my father would still be there. For him, the day didn’t end for another hour or so. That was a lesson he’d taught me—that if you expect your employees to work nine to five, and your executives eight to six, then, as CEO, you need to be there even longer. Whatever my father’s faults, he treats everyone from the janitors to the board of directors with consideration and respect…at least when he doesn’t need them tortured, maimed or executed. I hadn’t notified my father of my arrival…or that I was coming to Miami at all. I wanted to see his reaction without giving him time to prepare his defense. I do not enjoy the subterfuge.
