The Exchange: After The Firm

Chapter 23

After Carter and Clark were finally convinced that a weekend away from the city and on a remote island in Maine could be a great adventure, and that the Bruisers’ game Saturday would probably be rained out, and that they would be staying in a mansion with eighteen bedrooms and two boats waiting at the dock, and that they would ride on a small private jet, then a ferry, and that their grandparents would be there to play with them, as would their father, and that their mother needed to stay in the city for some unclear reason, the boys were ready to go. They reluctantly went to bed, still chattering away.

The next conversation was just as complicated but forty minutes shorter. After swapping emails to arrange things, Mitch called Giles Gatterson of River Latin at exactly nine-thirty. He apologized again for the intrusion and they quickly dispensed with the preliminary chitchat. As vaguely as possible, he explained that one of his cases, an international one, had presented a “security concern” that necessitated an early and furtive departure from school for the boys the following day, and would likely keep them out of the city for a week or so. Giles was eager to help. The school was filled with the children of important people who traveled the world and ran into unusual situations. If questions were asked about the boys’ absences, the company line was that they were suffering from measles and were quarantined. That should keep the curious at bay.

Abby made the next call, the third one to her parents in the past few hours. A private jet would fetch them in Louisville at 2 P.M. Saturday and fly nonstop to Rockland, Maine, where they would be met by a driver who would take them to the harbor in Camden.

As they talked, Mitch kept thinking about the eighteen bedrooms and was thankful that the summerhouse was large enough to put distance between himself and his in-laws. Only a threat from a terrorist organization could force him to spend a weekend with Harold and Maxine Sutherland. “Hoppy” and “Maxie” to the boys. His therapist would want to know how it happened, and he was already practicing his stories. The fact that he was still spending good money to deal with his “in-law issues” irked him to no end. But Abby insisted, and he did love his wife.

Oh well. His dislike of Hoppy and Maxie seemed rather trivial at the moment.

With the phone calls out of the way, an unforgettable day was finally coming to an end. Mitch poured two glasses of wine and they kicked off their shoes.

“When will she call?” Abby asked.

“Who?”

“What do you mean, ‘Who’?”

“Oh, right.”

“Yes, Noura. How long will she wait?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“No one knows, okay? So what’s your guess?”

Mitch drank some wine and frowned as if in deep and meaningful thought, calculating exactly what the terrorists were thinking. “Within forty-eight hours.”

“And what do you base that on?”

“That’s what they taught us in law school. I went to Harvard, you know?”

“How could I forget?”

He took another sip and said, “They’ve proven to be patient. Today is number twenty-seven, and the first contact. On the other hand, it’s a lot of work holding a hostage. She’s probably in a cave or a hole in a wall, not a good place. What if she gets sick? After a while the kidnappers will get tired of her. She’s worth a lot of money so it’s time to cash in. Why wait longer?”

“So it’s all about ransom?”

“Let’s hope so. If they were going to hurt her in some dramatic way it would’ve already happened. Probably, and according to our experts anyway. And what would they gain by it?”

“Because they’re savages. They’ve managed to shock the world already. Why not do it in an even bigger way?”

“True, but the men they’ve killed were of little value, dollar-wise. Giovanna’s a different story.”

“So it’s all about money.”

“If we’re lucky.”

Abby was not convinced. “So why did they bomb the office in Athens?”

“Something else we didn’t cover in law school. I don’t know, Abby. You’re asking me to think like a terrorist. These people are fanatics who are half crazy. On the other hand, they’re smart enough to put together an organization that can send an agent into a coffee shop down the street and hand you a package.”

Abby closed her eyes and shook her head. Nothing was said for a long time. Other than the occasional sip from a glass, nothing moved. Finally, she asked, “Are you scared, Mitch?”

“Terrified.”

“Me too.”

“I really want a gun.”

“Come on, Mitch.”

“Seriously. The bad guys have plenty of guns. I’d feel safer if I had one in my pocket.”

“You’ve never held a gun, Mitch. Giving you one would endanger half the city.”

He smiled and rubbed her leg. He gazed at a wall and said, “Not true. When I was a kid, my father took me hunting all the time.”

She took a deep breath and considered his words. They had been in love for almost twenty years, and she had learned at the beginning not to be curious about his early years. He never discussed them, never opened up to her, never shared the memories of a rough childhood. She knew his father died in the coal mines when he was seven. His mother cracked up and worked low-wage jobs but had trouble keeping them. They moved often, from one cheap rental to another. Ray, his older brother, dropped out of school and pursued a life of petty crime. Mitch once spoke of an aunt he lived with before running away.

“We grew up in the mountains where every kid was hunting by the age of six. Guns were a part of life. You know Dane County.”

She did. It was Appalachia, but she was a town girl whose father wore a suit and tie to work each day. They owned a nice home with two cars in the driveway.

“We hunted year-round, regardless of what the game warden said. If we saw an animal that might make a good stew, it was dead. Rabbits, turkeys, I killed my first deer when I was six. I could handle a gun — rifles, pistols, shotguns. After my dad died, Mom wouldn’t let us hunt anymore. She was afraid we might get hurt and the thought of losing another son was too much. She gave away all the guns. So, yes, dear, you are correct in saying that if I had one now I’d probably hurt somebody, but you’re wrong in saying I’ve never fired a gun.”

“Forget the guns, Mitch.”

“Okay. We’ll be safe, Abby, trust me.”

“I do.”

“No one will be able to find us up there. Cory and his gang will be close by. And since it’s in Maine I’m sure the house will be full of guns. Don’t they shoot moose up there?”

“You’re asking me?”

“No.”

“Don’t touch a gun, Mitch.”

“I promise.”