Finally Russell explained that since the bell curves could accurately predict when the policies would pay out, they could factor in all the other cogent data and determine their cash flow extremely accurately and buy as many policies as the revenue streams allowed. Their actuarial data was enormous, going back fifty years, and even longer if they needed it.

“We’ve left nothing to chance,” Russell said. “It’s foolproof, based on real numbers. Sure, a few people are going to have spontaneous remissions, but others will pay out faster than predicted. It’s all based on accepted mathematics and the bedrock is the insurance companies. It might be the best investment opportunity ever, backed by the Supreme Court ruling, so there’s no chance the insurance industry can lobby Congress to have laws and rules changed. The insurance companies are going to pay every penny the policies have accrued.”

Russell suddenly stopped, out of breath. Russell and Edmund looked at Gloria, who stared back for a couple of beats. There was silence.

“Don’t you see it?” Russell questioned.

“I see it,” Gloria said. “You’re the ones who don’t see it.”

“It’s real. We’ve run the numbers up and down and confirmed it with all the actuarial companies. It’s real. We’re already holding fifty thousand policies—”

Gloria whistled. “How much are the premiums on fifty thousand policies, Russell? You must be paying out about four, five million a month. You’re going to run out of capital by the end of next year if you don’t start having significant income.”

Russell and Edmund knew she was right. That Gloria was smart was not news to Edmund; he wouldn’t have hired her otherwise way back when. But in this instance they’d be fine, they were going to be fully capitalized by the end of this year. He wondered if Gloria might be bluffing and was beginning to think she was. So far she’d given them nothing. He was getting tired of this.

“Gloria. All you’ve told us is that we are mean, heartless bastards taking money from old ladies,” Edmund said. “But we knew that already. I think you’re fishing. You told some guy you were shorting us knowing it would flush us out, and we’d come down here and explain our business plan. Which we have done. Congratulations. Now we should go and not take up any more of your time. We’ll be more than happy to mail you a prospectus in due course.”

Edmund’s irritated expression had morphed into the insufferably smug look Gloria remembered from whenever he had dressed her down in days of yore. She pulled out the central drawer of her desk and found a red Sharpie on her desk. Looking at Edmund, she took one of Russell’s graphs and copied the bell curve, only drawing it shifted to the right of the one printed on the paper. She held up the graph.

“What would it mean to you if this happened?”

Russell squinted at the paper—it was the diabetes chart.