The Exchange: After The Firm

What about the next five days? Not only was the ransom pot still empty, it had sprung a significant leak. Tomorrow’s “deposit” of $10 million was the easy step, though Mitch was irritated that two members of the management committee had voted no. By yanking the rug out from under them, the insurance company not only acted in bad faith, an issue for another day, but it had upset all possible scenarios for pooling the ransom. The deal with Carlotti was precarious at best and illegal at worst and was probably already unraveling. Mitch would report it to Jack Ruch, who would no doubt call Luca and start yelling. Everyone was sympathetic and desperate to save Giovanna, but Scully was not about to start breaking laws in any jurisdiction. There was no movement from the British government, in spite of numerous Scully operatives pecking away at the Foreign Minister. Riley Casey had met with Jerry Robb of the Reedmore firm that afternoon to gauge any interest in a quick settlement of the Lannak lawsuit. Typical for Robb, the meeting was short, tense, and a total waste of time.

Chapter 34

Mitch had learned years earlier that jet lag was best shaken off with a long run through Central Park. He couldn’t sleep it off, especially not with a clock ticking and his boys in hiding and his wife increasingly anxious. Abby joined him at dawn as they entered the park at Seventy-Second Street and fell in behind a crowd of early runners. They rarely talked as they ran, preferring instead to soak in the first rays of the sun and enjoy the coolness of New York in the spring. As the boys got older and life marched on, the long runs they cherished were becoming less frequent.

Back in their Cortona days, before children and careers and such, they ran every morning, through farms and vineyards and villages. They would often stop and chat with a farmer to see if they could understand his accented Italian, or stop at a sidewalk café in a village for a glass of water or a shot of espresso. Their favorite character was the owner of a small winery who often flagged them down to inquire about the odd American habit of voluntarily running down a road, in a sweat, going nowhere in particular. Several times he invited them into his small courtyard where his wife poured glasses of cold rosé and insisted they try slices of buccellato, a sugary cake with raisins and aniseed. Such mid-workout stops usually drifted into longer wine tastings and the joggers forgot about their mileage. After a few detours, Abby insisted they alter their route.

They circled the reservoir and headed home. The streets were coming to life with morning traffic. Another busy day in the city. They had no plans to be there after dark.

At 11 A.M., they took a cab to the Citibank office on Lexington Avenue near Forty-Fourth, and went up twenty-six floors to the office of Ms. Philippa Melendez, a VP of some variety and an expert on moving money. She led them to a conference room where Cory and Darian were having coffee. Within minutes Jack arrived, and the firm’s ultimate authority was ready to sign. Philippa confirmed that the $10 million was on hand. All they had to do was wait for Noura.

She called at 11:30 and asked if Abby had her laptop. She had been told to bring it. The email arrived quickly with the wiring instructions. Cory’s team of hackers would track the sending address to a cyber café in Newark, but the sender was long gone. Jack Ruch signed an authorization on behalf of the firm. All $10 million would go to a numbered bank account in Panama.

“Ready?” Philippa asked Jack. He nodded gravely, and Scully said goodbye to the money.

“Impossible to track?” Abby asked as they stared at her laptop screen.

Philippa shrugged and said, “Not impossible, but not practical either. It’s going to a shell company in Panama, and there are thousands of them. The money is gone.”

They waited eight minutes before the Jakl rattled again. Noura said, “The money has arrived.”

The larceny had been quick, efficient, almost painless. They all took deep breaths and tried to adjust to the reality that a lot of money had just evaporated, with nothing, at the moment, to show for it. They said quiet goodbyes and left the office.

On the street, Abby and Cory got into a black SUV and headed uptown to the apartment. Mitch and Darian took another one and headed south to the financial district.