we got some money together, like a reward, and dangled the carrot in front of the world? Bring us a vaccine, we give you this money.” “People are always raising money, Dad. No disrespect, but that
seems to be the problem, not the solution.”
“I’m not talking about fundraising dollars. I’m not talking about
millions, either. I am talking billions.”
“Billions?” asked Jerry. “You want us to raise billions of
dollars?”
“Yeah, and here’s the thing. I know where we can get it.” “And where is that, Dad?”
“My industry. The insurance industry pays a fortune for cancer treatment around the globe. The Roundtable has hundreds of members and each one is worth billions of dollars. Not chicken feed, son. We go to them and try to get a hundred companies to pledge ten million apiece. And what’s a hundred times ten million?”
“One billion dollars,” Jerry said.
“That’s correct. And the beauty is, we take that billion and you
guys do a press thing—whatever you call it.” “A press conference?” asked Nick.
“Right. A press conference. But huge. Broadcast it all over the world. Hold up a billion dollars. You tell people if they bring you a vaccine, they will get a billion dollars.”
“Do you think that’s really possible, Dad?”
“If I went up to any insurance company in the world and said they could have the opportunity to wipe cancer off the face of the earth and it would cost them ten million, that would be the deal of the century. Can you imagine?”
“Can you imagine?” repeated Jerry. He leaned back in his chair. “The cure for cancer being supplied by the insurance industry.”
“Bingo,” said Sal.
“Holy shit, I get it,” Jerry said. “They’re the big, bad insurance companies. Everyone hates insurance companies. Politicians, especially. Everyone is thankful they have insurance, but some still consider them evil.”
“Until this …” Nick thought aloud.
“Has an interesting play to it, doesn’t it?” Sal smirked.
“Let me get this straight. You’re talking about having the
insurance companies fund a billion-dollar reward at ten million