The Exchange: After The Firm

To emphasize the urgency of the matter, and to prod the world’s largest law firm into action, the terrorists firebombed another Scully office. The timing was perfect: exactly 11 A.M. Eastern Standard Time, half an hour after Noura met Abby.

It was another basic package bomb: reinforced cardboard holding tubes of highly combustible fluids, probably ammonium nitrate and fuel oil, though the authorities would never be certain because of the extensive damage. It was similar to the one used in Athens and was not designed to knock down walls, blow out windows, or kill people. Its purpose was to set off a roaring fire on a Sunday when no one would be in the shipping room of the Barcelona office. It was on the fifth floor of a new building with plenty of sprinklers. They kicked in immediately and minimized the blaze until the fire crews showed up. The Scully & Pershing suites were either fire-gutted or soaked with water, but there was little damage in the rest of the building.

Mitch was in a cab headed to JFK for the flight to Rome when Cory called with the latest. “Crazy bastards,” he mumbled in disbelief.

Cory said, “No doubt, and we’re easy targets, Mitch. Just look at our beautiful website. Offices in every major city and some minor ones as well. World’s biggest firm, blah, blah, blah. It practically invites trouble.”

“And now we’ll spend a fortune on security.”

“We’re already spending a fortune on security. How am I supposed to protect two thousand lawyers in thirty-one offices?”

“Make that twenty-nine.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

Chapter 27

The firm’s management committee consisted of nine senior partners, ranging in age from fifty-two to almost seventy, Jack Ruch being the oldest at sixty-nine. There was no additional compensation for serving on the MC and most partners tried to avoid it. However, someone had to take the ultimate responsibility for running the place and making the most difficult decisions. But, obviously, never in the firm’s illustrious history had any partner been faced with such a momentous predicament.

Jack rousted them out of bed for a seven o’clock emergency meeting Monday morning. He immediately called for an executive session, meaning the two secretaries and Cory had to leave the boardroom. He asked a partner named Bart Ambrose to take minutes, and, though it was completely unnecessary and borderline irksome, he reminded them of the need for confidentiality. He began with a quick slide show of the photographs Noura had sent to Abby’s new phone the previous Thursday morning: Abby and the boys, their apartment building, her office. He saved the best for last and revealed the long-distance photo of 110 Broad, the handsome tower in which they were now sitting.

“We’re being watched,” he said dramatically. “Watched, followed, photographed, and threatened. And now they’re firebombing our offices on the other side of the world.”

All breathing had ceased as they gawked at the images.

The photos were from Thursday. The McDeeres went into hiding on Friday. Noura, the messenger, made contact on Saturday, met with Abby McDeere on Sunday, and passed along the demand for a hundred million.

Gloom was added to fear as the other eight members of the committee realized just how much money was at stake and that the firm might be on the hook for some of it.

The room was still silent as Jack played the video of Giovanna on a wide screen. Only a few had actually met her, but all of them knew her father. The visual impact of a Scully associate held hostage was breathtaking. They had been apprised of the situation over the past month, but nothing had prepared them for the shock of seeing her gaunt face and hearing her strained voice.

Jack stopped the video but left an indelible image of Giovanna on the screen for them to contemplate. He told them that Mitch had landed in Rome about an hour ago and was on his way to see Luca.

When the questions began, they came in a flood and from every side. Why not involve the FBI and CIA? The firm had strong contacts at the State Department. What were the Brits doing, and the Italians? Was there a plan to try to negotiate? The firm had insurance that paid for highly qualified hostage negotiators, why not use them? How much did they know about the terrorist group? Had they even identified it? Had the bankers been called?

Jack was not expecting the committee to agree on a plan, or on anything else for that matter, so he proposed nothing. He answered the questions he could, deflected those he couldn’t, argued when necessary, and in general let everyone blow off steam and try to impress the others. After a raucous first hour, the committee was split into three or four factions, with loyalties swinging back and forth. The loudest group wanted to go straight to the FBI and CIA, but Jack held firm. A couple didn’t like the idea of Mitch operating like a lone wolf out there, without real supervision.