The Exchange: After The Firm

Darian said, “May I ask who else is contributing to the fund at this time? Anyone? We’re ten million down with ninety to go, right?”

“Right,” Mitch said. He glanced at Jack, who looked away. Neither Darian nor Cory knew that mighty Scully & Pershing had declined further participation in the ransom plot.

Mitch continued, “There are many moving parts, Darian. We continue to push hard in diplomatic circles, in Rome and London.”

“The goal being?”

“The goal being to squeeze money from both governments to prevent the murder of a high-profile hostage. We’ve just learned that last year the Brits paid something like ten million pounds to get a nurse out of Afghanistan. It’s technically against their law but sometimes laws get in the way of saving lives. We’ve asked the Brits and the Italians for twenty-five million each, and we know that both requests are being considered by the prime ministers.”

“What about your insurance policy? Another twenty-five, right?”

“Wrong,” said Jack. “The insurance company has denied coverage. We intend to sue but that’ll take a few years. We have four days.”

Cory gave Mitch a puzzled look and asked, “How did you learn of the nurse in Afghanistan?”

“Sources. It came out of Washington.”

“Can we discuss it later?”

“Maybe. If there’s time. It’s not a priority at the moment.”

Cory withdrew, chastened. The nurse was secret intel he was supposed to know about, not the lawyers at Scully.

Mitch said, “Anything else? The plan is to zip this to Roberto in Rome and Riley in London and crank up the pressure on the Libyan embassies there.”

Jack shook his head and said, “It’s a long shot, Mitch.”

“Of course it’s a long shot, highly unlikely and all that. I get it! Does anyone have a better idea?” Mitch immediately regretted his sharp tone. He was, after all, still addressing the managing partner. For the moment, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said like a true friend. “I’m on board.”

The meeting moved from the conference room at Scully & Pershing to the cabin of a Gulfstream G450 parked at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey. When they were belted in — the same team minus the paralegals — the flight attendant took their drink orders and informed them they would land in Rome in seven hours. Lunch would be served when they reached altitude. Phones and Wi-Fi were all working. There were two sofas in the rear cabin for napping.

Shortly after 7 P.M. in Rome, Roberto Maggi entered the Caffè dei Fiori in the Aventine neighborhood of southwestern Rome. Diego Antonelli lived around the corner and agreed to a quick glass of wine. He and his wife had plans for dinner later in the evening and he did little to hide his annoyance at being bothered on a Saturday. But bothered as he might be, he also appreciated the gravity of the moment. The government he served was being whipsawed by events beyond its control. It was compelled to protect an Italian citizen being held hostage, yet it was not allowed to know the details of the captivity and possible release. It could not negotiate. It could not consider a rescue. Only the Americans were in contact with the kidnappers, and that had become a source of great irritation.

They sat at a small table in the corner and ordered glasses of Chianti. Roberto began with “The Carlotti deal is off the table.”

“That’s good to hear. What happened?”

“Carlotti got cold feet. His lawyers convinced him he was risking too much by trying to circumvent our laws. He wants to help Luca, of course, but he also wants to avoid trouble. Plus, the American wing of my law firm was skittish. There are some nasty federal prosecutors over there and they’d love to catch a big law firm getting its hands dirty.”

Diego nodded along, as if he completely understood the motivations of federal prosecutors in the United States. The wine arrived and they clinked glasses.

“There’s something else,” Roberto said.

“So you said.” Diego glanced at his watch. Ten minutes in and he was ready to go.

“Our client is Lannak, the Turkish contractor.”

“Yes, yes. I know the file. Arbitration. I talk to Luca.”

“We have a plan to settle the claim, in part only, and quickly. Some of the money will go to the ransom. We want your boss to meet with the Libyan ambassador as soon as possible and urge him to urge Tripoli to settle the claim.”

“A waste of time.”

“Maybe, but what if a settlement leads to the release of the hostage?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Money. We take some of it and add it to the pot.” Roberto removed a legal-sized manila envelope from his attaché case and handed it across the table. “Read it and you’ll understand.”

Diego took it without showing any interest. He sipped his wine and said, “I’ll give it to my boss.”

“The sooner the better. It’s rather urgent.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Chapter 37