The Exchange: After The Firm

“Good. In fifteen minutes a video will be sent to your phone. It is a message from Giovanna.” She turned the stroller and walked away. Abby watched her for a second — stylish Adidas jogging suit, red and white sneakers with no brand visible, goofy cap. She had seen only a portion of her face and would never be able to identify her.

Abby went the other direction and zigzagged northeast to Seventy-Second Street, then followed it east to Fifth Avenue. She entered the Everett Hotel, walked to the dining room, and asked for the table she had reserved earlier that morning. A table for three. She was meeting a couple of friends for brunch. When her coffee was served, she left the table and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor.

Darian connected the Jakl to a laptop with an eighteen-inch screen and they waited. And while they waited, each silently pondered the rather formidable task of somehow finding a hundred million dollars. As the shock began to wear off, it became evident that no one in the room had a clue.

The screen was blank for a few seconds, then there she was: Giovanna in a dark room wearing a dark robe or dress with a black hijab covering her head. She looked frail, even frightened, though she tapped her teeth together and tried to appear brave. A small candle burned on a table next to her. Her hands were not visible. She said, without smiling, “I am Giovanna Sandroni of the law firm of Scully and Pershing. I am healthy and well fed and I have not been harmed. Noura has now delivered the news. The price of my safe return is one hundred million U.S. dollars. This is not negotiable and if it is not paid by May twenty-fifth, I will be executed. Today is Sunday, May fifteenth. Please, I beg you, pay the money.”

She was gone; the screen was blank again. Abby took the Jakl, placed it in the bottom of her shoulder bag and took it to the bathroom. Mitch stood at a window and looked at Central Park. Darian was still staring at the screen. Cory studied his shoes. Jack sat at a breakfast table and sipped coffee. No one seemed capable of speaking.

Scully & Pershing was a law firm, not a hedge fund. Sure, its lawyers made plenty of money and the veteran partners were millionaires, at least on paper, but they were far from billionaires. Not even close. They had nice apartments in the city and pleasant weekend cottages in the country, but they didn’t buy yachts and islands. The private airplanes they used were leased not owned, and every trip was billed to a client. The previous year the firm grossed just over $2 billion, and after the bills were paid and the profits were split, there was almost nothing left over. It was not uncommon for the firm to tap into its line of credit for extra cash during the slow months. Virtually every firm in Big Law did so.

Cory finally said, “We’ve asked ourselves if this is a hoax, if Noura is for real. This removes any doubt. She’s part of a pretty slick operation over there with plenty of contacts here.”

“Mitch, you’re sure that’s Giovanna?” Darian asked.

Mitch snorted as if the question was ridiculous. “No doubt.”

Darian appeared ready to take charge, but Mitch would have none of it. It was a Scully matter and its partners would make the hard decisions. He turned from the window and said, “It’s clear that our line of communication is rather limited. It’s Noura and no one else, and I doubt she has the authority to negotiate. So, if we can’t negotiate we’re stuck with a nine-figure ransom that seems impossible. But we do not have the option of giving up. Does anyone doubt that in ten days these thugs will execute Giovanna in some spectacular fashion?” He glared at Jack, Cory, Darian, and he nodded at Abby. Everyone agreed.

“She has dual citizenship, British and Italian. What are the chances of asking those two governments to contribute to a ransom fund?”

Darian was shaking his head. “Slim. They don’t negotiate with terrorists and they don’t pay them ransom. Officially, at least.”

“No one is negotiating, Darian. That’s part of the problem. They’re using Noura to deliver messages to Abby. Let’s make it clear to both governments that in ten days there is a good chance that one of their citizens, one with a high profile, could be murdered, probably in front of a camera.”

Jack asked Darian, “What do you mean ‘officially’?”

He nodded and said, “The Italians made a large payment a few years ago to rescue a tourist in Yemen. They kept it quiet and still deny it.”

“And you were involved?” Mitch asked.

He nodded but said nothing.

“So there is wiggle room with the governments,” Mitch said and waited for a response. Darian shrugged but said nothing. He looked at Jack and asked, “When does the management committee meet?”

“Early in the morning. Emergency session.”

“Great. I’m off to Rome. I have to tell Luca that they’ve made contact and are demanding ransom. I’ll show him the video and try to allay his fears. Knowing Luca, he’ll have ideas about where to find some cash.”