Richard Thornton, Head of Tax at Pembroke Paton for fifteen years, stared out his office window at the rain-slicked London streets below. He massaged his temples, feeling a migraine building as he scrolled through the email that had arrived just before lunch.
"All-hands meeting, 2 PM, Data Embassy discussion."
He'd avoided the previous three project update meetings by claiming client emergencies. But Sarah had personally sent him a calendar invitation for this one—with Edward Pembroke copied. The Chairman himself. There was no dodging this bullet.
Richard closed his laptop with unnecessary force. In fifteen years, he'd built the Tax department from a back-office support function into the firm's most profitable service line. He'd personally designed their proprietary client database, spending countless evenings and weekends perfecting it. And now, they wanted to "integrate" it—a polite word for what he saw as corporate theft.
"They can have my database when they pry it from my cold, dead hands," he muttered, reaching for his jacket.
In the conference room, Tom Bennett stood at the whiteboard, drawing an architectural diagram while the team waited for the meeting to begin. Sarah paced by the windows, checking her watch.
"Should we start?" Emma asked, arranging her notes nervously. "It's already ten past."
"Not yet," Sarah replied. "Edward insisted that all department heads be present. Especially Richard."
Lisa leaned toward Jake, whispering, "Twenty quid says Richard doesn't show."
"I'll take that bet," Jake whispered back. "But only because I believe in optimism as a force for quantum good in the universe."
The door swung open, and everyone turned, expecting Richard. Instead, it was Oliver from HR, slightly out of breath.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, sliding into an empty chair. "I was with Richard."
Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "And?"
Oliver winced. "He's coming. But he's... not happy."
"When is Richard ever happy?" Lisa muttered.
"This is different," Oliver said quietly. "He's been talking to Bernard and Vivian."
Sarah's expression darkened. "Board members? About what exactly?"
Before Oliver could respond, the door opened again, and Richard strode in, followed by Edward Pembroke himself. The room fell silent as Edward took a seat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.
Richard remained standing, arms crossed. "I understand we're discussing the dismantling of fifteen years of my work today."
"That's not at all what we're—" Emma began, but Sarah raised a hand, silencing her.
"Richard, we appreciate you joining us," Sarah said carefully. "We wanted to walk through how the Data Embassy approach would enhance, not replace, your department's valuable systems."
Richard's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Enhancement? Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I stand, this looks like a power grab disguised as a technology initiative."
Tom stepped forward. "Perhaps we should start by clarifying exactly what we're proposing."
"I know exactly what you're proposing," Richard said, his voice rising. "You want to take my database—the one I've spent fifteen years perfecting—and give everyone else access to it. Do you have any idea how delicate tax data is? How complicated? How much liability we'd face if it were misinterpreted?"
Edward cleared his throat. "Richard, I think it would be helpful if we all listened to the proposal before drawing conclusions."
Richard turned to Edward, his face flushed. "With all due respect, sir, I've already heard enough. This 'Data Embassy' is going to undermine the careful controls we've built around our most sensitive client data. And I'm not the only one who thinks so."
A tense silence fell over the room.
"What do you mean, you're not the only one?" Sarah asked carefully.
"I've spoken with Bernard and Vivian. They share my concerns about this initiative. In fact, Bernard is calling for a special board meeting to reconsider the entire project."
Sarah's face paled. Bernard Paton was one of the firm's founding partners and still wielded enormous influence on the board. If he was turning against the project, they were in serious trouble.
Jake exchanged glances with Lisa, who looked equally stunned. Emma's hands tightened around her notebook until her knuckles turned white.
"I see," Edward said, his voice neutral. "And what exactly are these concerns that you've shared with board members without first discussing them with the project team or myself?"
Richard shifted uncomfortably. "This isn't personal, Edward. It's about safeguarding what we've built. The Tax database isn't just data—it's our competitive advantage. It contains fifteen years of judgment calls, special cases, and precedents. If we just share that with the rest of the firm without proper controls, we might as well publish it on our website for competitors to see."
"No one is suggesting we compromise client confidentiality or our competitive advantage," Sarah said, struggling to keep her voice even.
"Aren't you?" Richard challenged. "Because that's exactly what happens when you take specialized knowledge and try to make it 'accessible.' You dilute its value."
Oliver, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward. "Richard, I understand your concerns. You're worried about protecting something you've built that's served the firm incredibly well. That's commendable."
Richard nodded curtly, seemingly surprised to find an ally.
"But I'd like to ask you something," Oliver continued. "What happens to that database, with all its knowledge and value, if something happened to you?"
Richard blinked. "I have backup files—"
"That's not what I mean," Oliver said gently. "I mean, what happens to all that knowledge in your head? All those years of judgment calls and special cases that aren't actually in the database but in how you interpret it?"
The room fell silent as Richard struggled to respond.
"What Oliver's trying to say," Tom interjected, "is that right now, your incredible knowledge is a single point of failure for the firm."
"I'm not going anywhere," Richard said defensively.
"That's not the point," Jake said, unable to contain himself any longer. "The point is that what you've built is so valuable that it should be part of your legacy, not just something that...that disappears when you retire."
Richard's expression flickered with uncertainty.
Emma seized the opening. "Richard, did you know Hamilton Holdings is considering leaving us for TaxWise? They're our largest client, and they're not leaving because they don't value our tax expertise. They're leaving because we can't give them the integrated insights they need to make business decisions."
"I've worked with Hamilton Holdings for thirteen years," Richard said, clearly taken aback. "Charles Hamilton and I play golf together."
"Charles doesn't want to leave," Edward said quietly. "But his CFO and COO are insisting. They need real-time insights that we currently can't provide."
Oliver picked up the thread. "Richard, what we're proposing isn't about diminishing the value of what you've built. It's about enhancing its impact across the firm."
Lisa, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up. "We're not proposing to replace your database. We're proposing to connect it to other systems in a way that respects its integrity."
"The 'embassy' metaphor is apt," Tom added. "Just as countries establish embassies to facilitate communication while respecting sovereignty, our Data Embassy will connect departmental systems without requiring anyone to give up their existing databases or workflows."
Richard remained standing, but his arms had uncrossed. "And who decides what data gets shared and how it's interpreted?"
"You do," Tom said simply. "Each data domain has a custodian—someone who's responsible for ensuring the quality and integrity of that data. For tax data, that would naturally be you."
For the first time, Richard seemed genuinely surprised. "Me?"
"Of course you," Sarah said. "Who else knows that data better than you do?"
"The Data Embassy isn't about taking control away from you," Emma explained. "It's about extending your influence while reducing your administrative burden."
Richard's eyes narrowed, still suspicious but clearly listening now. "And what exactly would that look like in practice?"
Tom gestured to the whiteboard. "May I?"
Richard nodded grudgingly.
For the next thirty minutes, Tom outlined the technical architecture of the Data Embassy, with Jake and Lisa adding details about how Richard's database would interface with it. The room's tension gradually eased as Richard asked increasingly specific technical questions, which the team answered without hesitation.
"So, let me make sure I understand this," Richard said finally, taking a seat. "My department remains the authority on all tax data. We define the rules for how it's accessed and interpreted. And this... Embassy... actually shields us from ad hoc requests because everything goes through standardized interfaces?"
"Precisely," Jake said eagerly. "Plus, you'll be able to access client data from other departments without having to open fifteen tickets or send twenty emails."
Richard frowned thoughtfully. "And what happens when there are conflicts? What if the CRM system has one address for a client and we have another?"
"That's where governance comes in," Tom explained. "We establish clear rules about which system is authoritative for which data elements. For client tax IDs and classifications, your system would be authoritative. For basic contact information, perhaps the CRM would be."
"And who decides that governance?" Richard asked sharply.
"A cross-functional committee," Sarah said. "With you as a key member, of course."
Richard leaned back, his expression inscrutable. The room fell silent, everyone watching him process what he'd heard.
After what felt like an eternity, he sighed. "I still have concerns."
"Of course you do," Oliver said sympathetically. "This is a significant change."
"But," Richard continued, surprising everyone, "I'm willing to discuss them further, if—and only if—I have veto power over how tax data is exposed through this... Embassy."
Sarah and Tom exchanged glances.
"That seems reasonable for the initial implementation," Tom said carefully. "As the system proves its value, we can revisit the governance model together."
Edward, who had been silently observing the discussion, finally spoke. "Richard, I appreciate your willingness to engage with this. The firm needs your expertise, especially as we lose Hamilton Holdings."
Richard's head snapped up. "So they've officially decided to leave?"
"Not yet," Edward said. "They've given us thirty days to demonstrate we can provide the same level of insight as TaxWise. Which is now nineteen days."
Richard paled slightly. "Charles didn't mention that when we played golf last weekend."
"Perhaps he was hoping you'd come up with a solution," Edward suggested.
A heavy silence filled the room as Richard processed this information.
"I can speak to Charles," he offered finally. "Explain that we're working on something."
"That would be helpful," Edward agreed. "But what would be even more helpful is if you'd join this team and ensure that your department's needs are fully represented in the design."
Richard hesitated, then nodded curtly. "I'll consider it."
"Good," Edward said, standing. "Because there's something else you should know. Bernard hasn't called for a special board meeting to reconsider the project."
Richard frowned. "But he told me—"
"He told you he was concerned," Edward said. "And he is. But he's also aware that Hamilton Holdings represents over four million pounds in annual revenue, much of it from tax advisory services. He's not looking to block this project; he's looking for reassurance that it won't compromise the firm's standards or client confidentiality."
Richard's expression cycled through confusion, embarrassment, and finally resignation. "I see."
"I believe you can provide that reassurance better than anyone," Edward continued. "If you're willing to engage constructively with the team."
Richard looked around the room, taking in the expectant faces watching him. His gaze lingered on Oliver, who gave him an encouraging nod.
"Fine," he said finally. "I'll join your... what do you call yourselves? Data Detectives?"
"We've been calling it Project Phoenix Rebirth," Emma said with a small smile.
"Well, that's terrible," Richard snorted. "If I'm joining, we're changing that immediately."
Sarah laughed, relief evident in her voice. "We can discuss naming conventions later. For now, I think we could all use a break."
As the meeting dispersed, Oliver hung back, falling into step beside Richard as they headed for the door.
"That was quite a turnaround," Oliver observed quietly.
Richard glanced at him. "Don't get too excited. I still think this is a risky endeavor."
"Of course it is," Oliver agreed. "But so is doing nothing while our largest client walks out the door."
Richard sighed. "You know, when I built that database, I was thirty-two years old and had something to prove. Now I'm approaching fifty, and..."
"And what?" Oliver prompted when Richard trailed off.
"And I'm tired," Richard admitted. "Tired of being the only one who understands how it all works. Tired of getting calls at midnight when someone can't retrieve a tax classification code."
"Sounds like you could use exactly what this project is offering," Oliver said. "A way to preserve what you've built while sharing the burden of maintaining it."
Richard stopped walking, turning to face Oliver. "It's not just about the database, you know. When you spend fifteen years building something, it becomes part of your identity. Who am I at Pembroke Paton if not 'the tax database guy'?"
Oliver smiled. "Maybe you could be 'the guy who helped transform how Pembroke Paton serves its clients.' That's a pretty good legacy too, isn't it?"
Richard considered this, then shook his head ruefully. "You're good at your job, Oliver. Very good."
"So are you," Oliver replied. "That's why we need you on this team."
Later that evening, Sarah, Tom, and Oliver sat in Sarah's office, decompressing after the tense meeting.
"That was a near disaster," Sarah said, nursing a glass of scotch. "If Richard had walked out of that meeting still opposed to the project, we'd be dead in the water."
"He made some valid points," Tom acknowledged. "The governance model will be crucial to getting departmental buy-in."
"What I want to know," Sarah said, turning to Oliver, "is how you knew exactly what to say to him. That bit about legacy was brilliant."
Oliver smiled modestly. "It wasn't particularly clever. Everyone wants to believe their work matters—that it outlasts them. Richard has spent fifteen years building something valuable, but he's trapped by it. Deep down, he wants someone to take some of that burden off his shoulders, but not if it means erasing his contribution."
"Well, whatever magic you worked, it saved the project," Sarah said, raising her glass. "At least for now."
"Don't celebrate yet," Tom cautioned. "Richard's on board in principle, but the implementation will be where the real conflicts arise. And we still have that special board meeting to prepare for."
"One crisis at a time," Sarah sighed. "At least we've survived the first one."
As if on cue, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and groaned.
"It's Bernard Paton," she said, showing them the display. "Apparently, Richard isn't the only one we need to convince."
She answered the call, putting it on speaker. "Bernard, good evening."
"Sarah," Bernard's voice filled the room, sounding grave. "I've just had a rather disturbing conversation with Vivian Hargrove about this data project of yours. She seems to think it's going to revolutionize the firm. When can I see a proper business case? And don't tell me that flashy presentation you gave the board last week was a business case. I want real numbers, real risks, and real governance."
Sarah met Tom's eyes across the desk. The first crisis might be over, but the second was just beginning.
"Of course, Bernard," she said smoothly. "How about tomorrow morning? Nine o'clock in your office?"
"Make it eight," Bernard replied curtly. "And bring that consultant with you. The one with the mustache."
As the call ended, Oliver raised an eyebrow. "The one with the mustache?"
Tom shrugged. "Could be worse. He could have called me 'the grumpy one.'"
Sarah laughed despite herself. "Eight AM with Bernard. Should be fun."
"Every revolution has its obstacles," Tom said philosophically. "If it were easy, someone would have done it already."
As they gathered their things to leave, Sarah felt a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. They'd narrowly averted disaster today, but the battle for the Data Embassy was far from over. With Richard cautiously on board and Bernard demanding accountability, the project was entering a new, more complex phase.
But for the first time since that impulsive promise to the board, Sarah felt something she hadn't expected: hope. Not just that they might save Hamilton Holdings, but that they might actually transform Pembroke Paton into the firm it needed to become.
She glanced at her watch—just past eight. Nineteen days left until Hamilton Holdings' deadline. Nineteen days to turn a concept into reality. Nineteen days to break down silos that had been building for decades.
It would be the challenge of her career. But looking at Tom's quiet confidence and Oliver's insightful calm, she knew they had a fighting chance.
The real work was just beginning.