The Exchange: After The Firm

“Our people there have talked to contacts at State, the CIA, NSA. Everybody’s scrambling and nobody’s hearing anything. For a lot of reasons we don’t have a lot of good sources in Libya. Gaddafi has never been too friendly. The Brits have stronger contacts, as do the Italians, and, of course, she belongs to them. The Turks are raising hell. The situation is extremely volatile and unpredictable and no one is in charge. We can’t just go barging in, as we so often do.”

“How valuable is she?”

“Depends on who has her, I guess. If it’s really some splinter group of terrorists or a renegade militia with big plans, then it’ll be a demand for ransom. A few million bucks might be sufficient. But if it’s Gaddafi, then who knows? He might use her as a bargaining chip to settle the lawsuit.”

Mitch said, “Sure, she could save him some real cash.”

“That’s your department, Mitch.”

“If it’s Gaddafi, it’s a pretty stupid move because Lannak will not settle. The company has been furious for two years because of non-payment. Now, with four of its security guards murdered, they’ll want even more money. And the court will give it to them, in my opinion. Giovanna, of course, gets caught in the crossfire.”

“Well, the early speculation out of Washington is that it’s not Gaddafi. He may be crazy but he’s not stupid. Anyway, we have a briefing at seven in the morning with our guys in Washington, a teleconference. Jack Ruch’s office.”

“I’m not going to be there at seven in the morning, Cory. Rearrange the schedule.”

“Mr. Ruch said seven.”

“I’m taking my sons to school in the morning and I’ll be in the office around eight-thirty, my usual time. Sure, this is an important matter, but holding an urgent meeting at seven tomorrow morning, here in New York, will not do a damned thing to help Giovanna.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sure Mr. Ruch will call you.”

“Oh, he calls all the time and I usually do what he says.”

Carter and Clark were in their pajamas and enjoying an extra hour of television as they waited for their father. Mitch walked through the door shortly before nine and they raced to greet him. He picked them up, tossed them on a sofa, and went for their ribs. When both were laughing and yelling, Abby finally intervened with her usual concerns about the neighbors. When things were quieter, Carter seized the moment and asked, “Hey, Dad, can we stay up until ten?”

“No sir,” Abby said.

“Of course you can,” Mitch said. “And let’s make some popcorn.” Both boys raced toward the kitchen as Mitch attempted to kiss his wife.

“Popcorn for dinner?” she asked.

“It beats airplane food.”

“Welcome home. There’s leftover manicotti in the fridge.”

“Rosario Brothers?”

“Yes, they were here last night. It may be the best manicotti I’ve ever tasted.”

“We’ll save it. I’m not that hungry and my system is, shall we say, unstable again.”

“We have a lot to discuss.”

“Indeed we do.”

When the boys were wrapped in quilts and stuffing popcorn in their mouths, Mitch and Abby eased away and went to the kitchen. She poured two glasses of wine and gave her husband a proper kiss. “Any word?” she asked softly.

“Nothing on Giovanna.”

“I assume you’ve heard about the video.”

Mitch closed his eyes and grimaced. “Which one?”

“You know Gina Nelligan? Teaches art at the upper school.”

Mitch was shaking his head. No.

“Her son is a junior at Purdue. He called home an hour or so ago, told her about the video on the deep web.”

“The beheadings?”

“Yes. Have you watched it?”

“No. Don’t plan to. Our security guy described it for me. That’s enough.”

“Did you know those men, the guards?”

“Yes, I met them the day before they were murdered. They were going with us to the bridge, along with two Libyan drivers and Giovanna. All of us in one secured vehicle.”

“I can’t believe it, Mitch. And that poor girl. They have no idea where she is?”

“Nothing, not a clue, but we expect that will change. She’s worth a lot of money and her kidnappers will make contact at some point.”

“You hope.”

“Yes, no one is certain of anything right now.”

“Well, I’m certain that you’re not going back to Libya. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Let’s go sit with the boys.”

By nine-thirty the boys were yawning and Abby hustled them to bed. Mitch helped tuck them in and said good night. He turned off the television as she topped off their wineglasses. They sat together on the sofa and enjoyed the quiet.

She said, “As you might know, there’s a lot of press, especially in the U.K. I’ve been online for hours trying to find whatever I can. Plenty of stories here and in Rome. Scully and Pershing is mentioned over and over, but so far I have not seen your name.”

“Nor have I. My secretary and two paralegals are also searching.”

“So you’re worried?”

“I’m worried about Giovanna, of course. I take some of the blame for what’s happened, Abby. It was my trip, my little fact-finding mission, one I asked for and was in charge of.”

“I thought Luca told you to go.”