The Exchange: After The Firm

“Of course. She is alive and doing well and on the verge of going home. Don’t allow a bad decision to lead to her demise.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “Here are the instructions in more detail. Your husband is to follow them closely.”

“He’ll be traveling tomorrow, from New York to Grand Cayman.”

Hassan offered the widest smile yet as he gave her the sheet of paper and said, “Mitch is not in New York, Mrs. McDeere. He is in Rome. And he has access to a private jet.”

Chapter 41

Grand Cayman?

The Caymans are three tiny islands in the Caribbean, south of Cuba and west of Jamaica. Still a British territory, they cling to old traditions and still drive on the left. Large numbers of tourists are attracted to their beaches, scuba diving, and fine hotels. No taxes are levied on money earned there. Or stored there. At least 100,000 corporations, more than one per citizen, register in Georgetown, the capital. Billions of dollars are parked in huge banks where they accumulate even more billions in interest, tax-free of course. Highly paid tax lawyers work in nice firms and enjoy a splendid quality of life. In the world of international finance, the word “Caymans” means, among other things, a safe place to hide money, clean or dirty.

Grand Cayman, Little Cayman, Cayman Brac.

Mitch had tried to forget about all three.

It was the shadier side of the Caymans that attracted the Bendini firm years earlier, in the 1970s, when drug money was pouring into the islands. Bendini was laundering money for its own criminal clients and found some friendly banks on Grand Cayman. The firm even bought a couple of swanky condos on the beach for its partners to enjoy when they were down on “business.”

“Tell me again, Abby, what he said. Word for word.”

“He said, ‘Tomorrow morning your husband goes to Grand Cayman. I believe he knows the place.’ ”

He knows the place.

Mitch paced around his room in his boxers, thoroughly baffled and ready to pull out his hair. How could anyone, especially a man like Hassan or whatever his name was, really know that Mitch had ever had any contact with the Cayman Islands? It had been fifteen years ago. He sat on the edge of his bed, closed his eyes, and began breathing deeply.

Some details were returning. When Bendini imploded, there were dozens of arrests and news reports. Mitch and Abby were hiding on a sailboat with his brother Ray near Barbados. Mitch was not being sought by the FBI, but the Chicago Mob damned well wanted to find him. Months later, when the McDeeres finally came ashore, Mitch went to a library in Kingston, Jamaica, and found the newspaper stories. In several, the Caymans were mentioned in connection with criminal activity by the Bendini firm. But Mitch’s name was never in print, at least not in the reports he could find.

That was the one possible link: the Bendini firm, of which he was briefly a member, and some of its alleged wrongdoings in the Caymans. As old and as obscure as it was, how could Hassan have possibly found it?

Equally baffling was how he knew Mitch was in Rome, and that he got there on a private jet. Mitch called a partner in New York, a friend who was a pilot and aviation junkie. Without being specific, he asked how difficult it would be to track the movements of a private jet. No problem at all if you have the plane’s tail number. Mitch thanked him and rang off.

But how could they know Mitch was on the plane?

Because they were watching Mitch.

He didn’t tell Abby this because she would immediately think of the boys and freak out. If “they” were watching the McDeeres this closely, then how safe were they?

For additional privacy, Jack moved their operations to a large suite on the third floor of the Hassler. He ordered some snacks, no alcohol, and the team nibbled on finger food as they waited anxiously to hear from Mitch. When he arrived they listened raptly as he replayed his conversation with Abby and described the events in Marrakech. Abby was staying in a lovely hotel, felt safe, and was eager to get on with it. The Hassan character was a smooth professional who seemed firmly in control. The fact that he knew of Mitch’s history with the Caymans, and that he knew Mitch was in Rome and not New York, was nothing less than astonishing. The team was once again reminded that they were only reacting. The rules were being made by some nasty people far more informed and better organized than them.

Mitch and Jack decided they would leave Rome early the following morning and fly to New York. From there, Mitch would fly to Grand Cayman and arrive midday, Caribbean time. He called a Scully partner in New York and told him to contact their affiliated law firm on Grand Cayman and get a banking expert on standby. He called another partner and asked him to research the bank called the Trinidad Trust.