The Exchange: After The Firm

Chapter 32

At 11:55 Wednesday night, Abby was still awake and reading magazines in bed. She was tired of the quiet apartment and tired of living alone. She wanted to hug her twins, crawl in bed with her husband, and say farewell to all the horrible drama she had not asked for. Someone else could play the spy game.

The Jakl buzzed on the nightstand and startled her. It had not made a sound since Sunday morning. She picked it up and walked to a small table near the den where she placed it next to her cell phone. She tapped both phones. An app on hers would record the conversation without the Jakl knowing it, according to Darian.

“Hello.”

“This is Noura. Are you alone?”

Don’t you know the answer? Aren’t you people watching us? “Yes.”

“Do you have the money?”

“Well, no, but we’re working on it.”

“Is there a problem?”

Who knew how many people were listening on the other end? Be careful, measure every word. There is a language difference here and something might be misunderstood or taken the wrong way.

“Not a problem, just the challenge of finding that much money.”

“That should be easy, I would think.” A definite British lilt in the last phrase.

“Why would you think that?” Keep her talking.

“Rich lawyers, largest law firm in the world, offices everywhere. It’s all right there on the website. Billings last year of over two billion.”

Oh, the frustration of lawyers pounding their own chests. Abby said, “The firm has lost a couple of offices lately, in case you haven’t heard.”

“That’s unfortunate, but it will continue until we have the money.”

“I thought the money was for Giovanna’s release.”

“It is. Deliver the money and everything will be fine.”

“Look, I’m not a member of the firm and I don’t know what they’re doing. I know my husband is in Europe right now trying to raise the money, but I don’t know what’s going on. I’m a book editor, you know?”

“Yes. There has been a change in plans.” A pause. Say something, Abby.

“Okay, what kind of change?”

“There shall be a deposit, to show good faith.” Another pause.

“I’m listening.”

“Ten million dollars by noon Friday, sent from a bank here in New York.”

Abby exhaled and said, “Okay. All I can do is relay this to my husband. I have no control over anything.”

“Noon Friday. I will send instructions. I will also send a new video of Giovanna to prove she is in good hands.”

Good hands? Same hands that held the chain saw?

Jack Ruch finally yielded to the grumbling. It was irritating enough that the management committee had to meet daily for the crisis update, but to meet at 7 A.M. was too much. Jack pushed it back to 9:30 on Thursday, and called the executive session to order for the fourth day in a row. By then most of the members were secretly wondering if it was really necessary to meet every day, but it was a crisis like no other. No one had yet found the spine to question Jack. All nine were present.

He began with, “There’s a new development. Our dear Noura made contact late last night with Abby, and informed her that a good-faith deposit is now part of the deal. Ten million by noon tomorrow, Friday.”

The news settled heavily around the room. All eyes were on the table.

Jack cleared his throat and continued, “I spoke with Mitch an hour ago. He’s leaving Istanbul and going to Rome, where Luca has been hospitalized.”

Ollie LaForge asked, “And we still don’t know who we’re talking to, right? We’re supposed to fork over ten million up front and hope for the best?”

“You got a better idea?” Jack shot back.

“Has Mitch had any luck since yesterday?” asked Mavis Chisenhall.

“If you’re asking me whether Mitch has obtained any commitments for money, then the answer is no. But he’s trying. That’s all I can say.”

Month in and month out, the firm kept about $15 million in extra cash on hand for emergencies and other contingencies. There was a larger reserve for the sacred year-end bonuses, but that money could not be touched.

Sheldon Morlock, one of the more influential partners on the committee, said, “There must be a way to negotiate with these people. What they’re asking is outrageous and beyond our capacity. And, you can’t convince me they’ll walk away if they don’t get every dime. Say we somehow scrape together only half the money. Are they going to say no?”

Jack said, “That’s just it, Sheldon, no one knows. We can’t predict. This is not a typical business transaction with rational people on both sides. They could kill her at any moment.”

Piper Redgrave, the third woman on the committee, said, “Jack, are you saying we should hit the line of credit and borrow the money?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We should borrow twenty-five million because that’s the extent of our policy. We give them ten tomorrow and say a prayer.”

Bart Ambrose said, “I talked to Citibank, as instructed. They’re ready, but they’ll require personal guarantees from each of us.”

There were groans, sighs, silent expletives, head-shaking in frustration. A two-thirds majority vote was required to borrow money.

Jack said, “That’s nothing new. Any objections?”

“Are we voting?” Morlock asked.

“Yes. Anyone opposed to borrowing twenty-five million from Citi on our line of credit?”

All nine shot quick, fierce looks around the table. Morlock raised his hand, then lowered it. Slowly, Ollie LaForge raised his.

“Anybody else?” Jack asked with contempt. “Okay, the vote is seven in favor, two opposed. Right?”

There was no further discussion. They filed out of the conference room in silence and hurried to their own offices.

And that was the easy vote. Every dime would be reimbursed under the firm’s insurance policy.

Or so they thought.

After the meeting, Jack called the insurance company for the update. Instead, he was put on hold and waited far too long. When the CEO said good morning, Jack was surprised. What he heard next was deflating. The claim was being denied on the grounds that Giovanna had been kidnapped and was being held by terrorists, as opposed to a criminal gang. The policy unequivocally excluded coverage for acts of terrorism.

“I can’t believe this,” Jack roared into the phone.

“It’s right there in black and white, Jack,” replied the CEO calmly.

Black and white. Since when were insurance policies clear about anything?

“Kidnapping is kidnapping,” Jack said, trying to control his anger. “The damned policy covers kidnapping.”

“Our sources tell us it’s the work of a terrorist organization, Jack. So we are denying. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Our counsel is emailing a denial memo as we speak.”

“I guess I’ll see you in court.”

“That’s up to you.”