May 26, 2010—London: From across St. James’s Square, I could see Bill in the entrance to BP’s headquarters. He was always the chattiest of the company’s security guards.
“Haven’t seen you in a while!” he said in his Scottish lilt. “How long’s it been now?”
“Two years,” I said.
“You’re in New York now, right? We could use you back here, you know,” he smiled. “Help me fight off those Greenpeace climbers.” He pointed his chin to the roof. One week earlier, Greenpeace activists had scaled the building and hung a “British Polluters” banner off the fifth-floor balcony. “Took ’em forty-seven seconds,” ...