[4:45 PM, 18th April 2000 – Harrington, Gordon, Schmidt, & Van Dyke, World Trade Centre, Lower Manhattan]
Jess Person did not believe in mistakes—only in poorly executed preparation. Her glass-walled corner office, sixty-nine floors above Lower Manhattan, was silent except for the faint hum of the air vents and the crisp shuffle of legal briefs. The skyline stretched endlessly before her—the East River gleaming like polished steel, the borough of Queens visible in the distance, and somewhere out there, her favourite client wanted to change the world.
She hadn't yet become a named partner, but she was on the verge of achieving her dream. Three more major deals, the senior partners had told her. Three more wins like the Tigers acquisition, and her name would be etched in brass on the firm's letterhead. Jess Person had no intention of stopping at three.
Behind her, the door opened without a knock—a liberty only one person in the entire firm would dare take. "We have a problem," Harvey Reddington Specter announced, striding into the office with the easy confidence of someone who'd never lost an argument in his life.
Jess didn't turn from the window. "Close the door, Harvey."
He did, then crossed the room in three long strides, dropping a thick manila folder onto her desk. At twenty-nine, Harvey looked like he'd been designed by a committee tasked with creating the perfect corporate attorney: six-one, sharp-featured, dark hair immaculately styled, suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. His tie was burgundy silk, his cufflinks platinum, and his expression carried self-confidence, born from extreme competence that created quite a few enemies among opposing counsel in the city.
Jess had hand-picked him out of the firm's Mail room, impressed by his intelligence and gumption. She put him through Harvard Law, and he repaid her by becoming the best lawyer possible, ranking in the top 3 in his entire class. He was hired as a senior associate and quickly became one of the Aces in the firm, achieving a 100% case closure rate.
"Define problem," Jess said, finally turning from the window and moving to her desk.
"Xavier James wants to buy land in Queens," Harvey said, settling into one of the leather chairs across from her. "Ninety acres of waterfront property and thirty-five acres of institutional parcels. Total acquisition cost somewhere between one-twenty and one-forty million."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "That's not a problem, loads of real estate developers in the city do that."
"It's not a problem," Harvey countered, "because he wants to do it quietly using a shell company—Tyson Development & Infrastructure LLC—and make it look like just another commercial development play."
Jess sat, pulling the folder toward her and flipping it open. Inside were property surveys, environmental reports, zoning documents, and preliminary valuations. Her eyes scanned the documents with practised efficiency.
"Tyson Development," she murmured. "Clean entity?"
"Brand new," Harvey confirmed. "Registered three weeks ago through a different firm in Delaware. No public filings, no board members listed, completely anonymous."
"It's smart," Jess admitted. "If word gets out that the Tigers owner is buying land in Queens, prices skyrocket overnight. Every property owner within five miles starts thinking 'stadium' and adds zeroes to their asking price."
"Exactly," Harvey said. "So we go in clean, and only reveal the football connection once everything's signed."
Jess studied the property maps. "Two sites. College Point and... Creedmoor?"
"Plot One: College Point Bayfront," Harvey said, ticking off details on his fingers. "Ninety acres along the waterfront. Currently owned by a delightful mix of the NYC Economic Development Corp, Department of Sanitation, some private trucking companies, and a dormant warehouse corporation. Industrial wasteland, essentially. Great views of the East River, terrible soil contamination."
"Contamination?" Jess's eyes sharpened.
"PCBs, heavy metals, probably some stuff that'll give the EPA nightmares," Harvey confirmed. "We can leverage the fact that environmental remediation is expensive and time-consuming. The city's been trying to sell these parcels for years, but nobody wants to deal with the cleanup costs."
"Except Xavier."
"Exactly, he's on a one-track mind to get this project started," Harvey agreed with a slight smile. "We estimate city-owned parcels at eight to twenty per square foot, private depots at twelve to thirty. But with the contamination discount—thirty to forty per cent off—we should be able to close the whole package for ninety to a hundred million."
Jess made a note on her legal pad. "And Plot Two?"
"Creedmoor Psychiatric Centre's South Campus," Harvey said. "Twenty-five to thirty-five acres of state-owned institutional land. The Office of Mental Health has been trying to offload underutilised parcels to save on the budget. State institutional land typically sells for $2 to $8 per square foot in this market. We're estimating twenty to thirty million for the acquisition."
"So total land cost," Jess calculated aloud, "between one-ten and one-thirty million for both sites."
"One-twenty to one-forty if we're being conservative," Harvey corrected. "Plus legal fees, environmental assessments, title work, zoning applications—call it one-fifty all-in before we break ground on anything."
Jess leaned back in her chair, studying her protégé. "You said we have a problem," she reminded him. "So far, this sounds straightforward."
Harvey's smile widened slightly. "The problem is that we're not the only ones interested in College Point."
Jess's expression didn't change, but her pen stopped moving. "Who?"
"Mara family," Harvey said simply.
The name hung in the air between them like a grenade with the pin pulled. John Mara. Co-owner of the New York Giants. He was old money and even older power, with connections that ran through every level of city and state government. The Mara family had owned the Giants since 1925, making them virtually untouchable in New York Sports circles.
"They're looking at the same waterfront parcels?" Jess asked quietly.
"Not officially," Harvey said. "But I have a contact at the EDC who mentioned that Mara's people have been making inquiries. Nothing formal, no offers submitted, but they're sniffing around. Probably heard rumours that someone's interested and decided to play defence."
"Or they want it for themselves," Jess countered.
"Possible," Harvey admitted. "The Giants have been sharing that dump with the Tigers for years. Maybe they're tired of splitting revenue and want their own place."
Jess stood and moved back to the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting orange light across the Manhattan skyline. Below, the streets teemed with evening traffic—thousands of people heading home, utterly unaware that sixty-nine floors above them, the future of New York football was being decided.
"You have a game plan?" She asked, wanting to hear his plans, as this was more up his alley than hers.
"I figured we devied and conquer, you get Xavier to push the Manhattan Olympic stadium angle and get Maras people to back off from Queens." He said with a smile, naturally walking over to the bar at the side to pour himself a drink. "With a buyer suddenly losing interest, the decision makers in Queens will be desperate to sign with us, and I might be able to push the price down further."
"Assuming," Jess said, "That works in keeping Maras at bay. They have friends on the City Planning Commission. They have friends in the Mayor's office. heck, they probably have friends in the Governor's mansion. One phone call from and our variance gets 'delayed for additional review' until Xavier's grandchildren are eligible for Social Security."
Harvey was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "So we need leverage."
"What Kind of leverage could be strong enough to get him to back off?" She muttered to herself until suddenly a billboard caught her eye. On it was a stick figure mid-run above the words Sydney 2000 with the Olympic rings underneath. "That's it, we get the Olympic committee behind the bid, and Giuliani loves mega construction like this. With both sides pushing, the Maras won't dare interfere."
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To Be Continued...