The Exchange: After The Firm

Mitch, wide awake and suddenly hungry, replayed every step he and Giovanna had taken in Tripoli. None of the information was helpful. He knew less about the abductions than Roberto. Evidently, the Libyan authorities were either still in the dark or simply not talking. As far as anyone knew, the kidnappers had yet to call.

Roberto left and promised to be back in a few hours to help Mitch with his discharge. A nurse brought a bowl of chopped fruit, a diet soda, and some crackers. Mitch ate slowly, then called Abby again and reported that he was resting comfortably in a nice hospital room in Rome and feeling much better.

She was watching cable news and monitoring the internet and had seen nothing out of Libya.

Chapter 13

The news blackout ended dramatically when the four Turks were found with their heads cut off. They were naked and hanging by their feet from a cable running between two storage buildings a mile from the bridge. Their flesh was slashed, burned, and bloodied, and it was safe to assume they had suffered greatly before being decapitated. Nearby was a large oil drum with a plank across its top. On the plank, in a neat row, were the four heads.

Haskel, Gau, Abdo, Aziz.

The Lannak security guard who found them early that morning did not attempt to match the heads with the bodies. Someone far smarter than him would be given that task.

There was no sign of Youssef, Walid, or Giovanna. No sign of the murderers. No note, no demand, nothing. The Lannak security guards at the bridge heard nothing, but the nearest one was at least a hundred yards away. There was little security left because the company was pulling people off the site and sending them home. The construction was practically finished. All closed-circuit cameras in the area had been dismantled.

The four beheadings would no doubt encourage the company to retreat even faster.

A Libyan official quickly sealed off the area and prohibited anyone from taking photos and videos of the scene. His orders from Tripoli were to keep everyone, including Lannak employees, away from the bodies. Such a gruesome sight would go viral in an instant and only embarrass the government. The story, though, could not be buried, and before noon Tripoli released a statement confirming the murders and kidnappings. There was still no word from the “terrorists.” In its first effort at disinformation, the regime said the attack “was believed to be the work of a notorious tribal gang headquartered in Chad.” The Libyan authorities vowed to find the outlaws and bring them to justice, after, of course, it found the other hostages.

Mitch was leaving the hospital in a car with Roberto Maggi when the call came. An associate in their Rome office had just seen the news out of Tripoli. The government was confirming the abduction of Giovanna Sandroni, along with two Libyan employees of Lannak. Their whereabouts were unknown. Their Turkish security team had been murdered.

They drove to Luca’s villa in the Trastevere neighborhood, in south-central Rome, and found him sitting alone on the veranda under the shade of an umbrella pine, wrapped in a quilt and gazing at a fountain in the small courtyard. A nurse sat by the open double-doors. He smiled at Mitch and waved at an empty chair.

“It’s good to see you, Mitch,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Roberto said, “I’ll be inside, Luca,” and disappeared.

Mitch asked, “How are you?”

He shrugged and took his time. “Still fighting. I’ve been on the phone all morning with my best contacts in Libya, and I’m not getting much.”

“Could it be Gaddafi?”

“That’s always a possibility. He’s a madman and capable of anything. But I have my doubts. They just found five dead soldiers, Libyan Army, the guards at the checkpoint. All shot in the head, bodies burned. I doubt Gaddafi would kill his own men, but then one never knows.”

“Why would he kill Lannak employees?”

“Intimidation, perhaps.”

A well-dressed woman of about fifty appeared and asked Mitch if he wanted something to drink. He asked for an espresso and she walked away.

Luca ignored her and continued, “Gaddafi owes Lannak at least four hundred million dollars for his beautiful bridge in the desert. The price of oil is down. The Libyans are always out of cash because Gaddafi wants stockpiles of weapons. He just ordered forty more MiGs from the Russians.” His voice trailed off and he lit a cigarette. He was pale and looked ten years older than he had two weeks earlier.

Mitch wanted to say something about Giovanna but couldn’t bear to bring up the subject. His espresso arrived on a small tray and he thanked the woman.

When she was gone, Luca exhaled a cloud of smoke and said, “That’s Bella, my friend.”

Luca usually had a lady friend around.