He was in the middle of a dinner party, he said. Could I call back another time? There was New Age music playing in the background. It sounded tribal: tom-toms and chanting and wind chimes only slightly softer than the conversational drone of people making polite conversation. I could picture them up there in wealthy Boca Grande, glasses in hand, Windows showing no horizon, the Gulf of Mexico probably, through the sea grapes right outside. I said, “I’ll call you tomorrow at your office if you want, Frank. Or you can call me later this evening.” He said, “You say you’re a friend of Amanda’s?” As if he had no idea why I was calling; as if he’d never heard my name before. Maybe he hadn’t, but that was unlikely. According to Amanda, she’d told him that she and I were going to meet and that I might call to ask him some questions. But the big-money guys are necessarily suspicious, plus there is a behavioral dynamic that may well account for some of their success: They are very, very reluctant to give away information, or anything else, without getting something in return.
