The Exchange: After The Firm

Cory nodded and said, “We have no idea what condition Giovanna’s in.”

Darian added, “It’s always best to have a nurse, if possible. I’ll stay here with the team.”

“Of course.”

“Jack, can we use the jet?”

Jack was not anticipating the question and hesitated only slightly, as if he didn’t really want to let go of the airplane. “Sure. There are plenty available.”

Other ideas came and went as they tried to enjoy dinner. The optimism ebbed and flowed. One moment they were excited about Abby’s trip to Morocco, and the next moment they were once again fretting over the ransom.

After dark, and as they were strolling back toward the Hassler and trying to enjoy another beautiful Roman evening, Roberto’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Diego Antonelli. Roberto held back from the others and listened intently as Diego rattled away in Italian. There were rumblings out of Tripoli. Somewhere in the depths of the regime a senior diplomat had been contacted by their embassies in Rome, London, and Istanbul, all urging the same course of action. The senior diplomat had Gaddafi’s ear and an approval of the settlement was expected.

An hour later, Riley Casey called Mitch from London with similar news. Sir Simon Croome had received a call from an old friend in the Foreign Office. The rumor was that the Libyan ambassador to the U.K. had also been informed that his government had decided to settle the Lannak matter, all of it, and to do so promptly.

Mitch, Jack, and Roberto met in a dark corner of the Hassler bar to talk about their client. Assuming a settlement, and they were cautious enough to assume nothing, they needed a strategy to press Lannak into using the money for the ransom. Roberto, who knew them best because of their long history with Luca, thought it likely that the Celiks would go along, but only with some guarantee that they would eventually receive $400 million. All three lawyers knew that in litigation there were no guarantees. A lawyer who promised one was a fool.

Roberto wanted some answers. He asked Jack, “Can Scully be convinced to borrow the funds? I know you’ve tried, but can you try again?”

“Maybe, but I’m not optimistic about the firm right now.”

“This is disturbing. Luca is devastated and he feels betrayed.”

“With good reason,” Mitch said.

“Would the committee vote differently if she were the child of an American partner?”

“Great question,” Mitch mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “But I doubt it. The majority are more concerned with protecting their own assets. Asking them to cosign and guarantee such a loan was just too frightening, I guess. I tried, Roberto.”

“Luca’s putting up ten million of his own money. He’s mortgaged everything. He was expecting more from the firm.”

“So was I. I’m very sorry.”

From the moment Abby entered the British Airways lounge at JFK, she was looking for whoever might be watching her. Not following, but “monitoring,” as Noura said. Seeing no one suspicious, and fully aware that anyone on her tail would appear not the least bit suspicious, she relaxed, ordered an espresso, and found a magazine.

She had always enjoyed British Air and was pleased that it would take her all the way to Marrakech. She remembered, with some amusement, Mitch’s circuitous route from New York to Tripoli only last month. It had taken thirty hours and three airlines. She would need only one and BA was a favorite. Business class was quite comfortable. The champagne was delicious. Dinner was edible, but then she had become such a food snob that nothing served on an airplane could ever be described as delicious.

She thought of her boys and the wonderful time they were having at Miss Emma’s table, eating precisely whatever they wanted and getting little or no pushback from their grandparents. How many kids get lobster every day?

The layover in London’s Gatwick Airport was three hours and twenty minutes. To kill time, she napped in a chair, watched the sunrise, read magazines, and worked on a Laotian cookbook. She noticed a North African gentleman wearing a white linen suit and blue espadrilles trying to hide most of his face under a straw fedora. The third time she caught him glancing at her she decided he was one of her “monitors.” She shrugged it off and figured there would be tenser moments ahead.

Chapter 40

Samir called Mitch Monday morning and said he had good news. Mitch invited him to breakfast with Roberto at the Hassler, and the three of them met in the restaurant at nine-thirty.

Mitch had been so out of step the past ten days that he wasn’t sure who was paying for what. He’d lost track of his expenses, a sin for any big firm lawyer. The Hassler was costing someone seven hundred dollars a night, plus meals and drinks. He assumed Lannak would eventually get the bills, but that didn’t seem entirely fair. The Celiks were not responsible for Giovanna’s kidnapping. Scully might have to eat the expenses, which was fine with Mitch because he was frustrated with the firm.