The Exchange: After The Firm

The Georgetown traffic was unrelenting and he weaved through it trying to get out of town. He did not remember so much congestion. There were more hotels and condos, and strip malls offering fast food, T-shirts, cheap beer, and duty-free booze. Georgetown had been thoroughly Americanized. On the other side of Hog Sty Bay the traffic thinned and the scooter hummed along. He passed through Red Bay, left the city, and saw the signs for Bodden Town. The road followed the shore but the beaches were gone. The sea rolled gently in and splashed against rocks and small cliffs. With little sand to offer, the hotels and condos thinned too, and the views were impressive.

Grand Cayman was twenty-two miles long and the main road looped around all of it. Mitch had never had the time in his earlier visits to see much of the island, but at the moment he had nothing better to do. The salty air in his face was refreshing. Thoughts of Giovanna could be set aside for at least a few hours because the banks and offices were closed. He stopped at Abanks Dive Lodge outside of Bodden Town and had a beer at the bar at the water’s edge. Barry Abanks had rescued Mitch, Abby, and Ray from a pier in Florida as they made their escape. He had sold his operation years earlier and settled in Miami.

Moving on, Mitch scootered east to the far coast and crept through the settlements of East End and Gun Bay. The road continued to narrow and at times two cars could barely pass. Georgetown was on the other end of the island, far away. On the leeward side he parked and walked to the edge of a cliff where other tourists had left their trash. He sat on a rock and watched the water churn below. At Rum Point, he had another beer, a Red Stripe from Jamaica, as he watched a large group of middle-age couples eat and drink at an outdoor barbecue.

When it was almost dark, he headed back to Seven Mile Beach. Stephen was waiting and it was time for dinner.

Chapter 44

Wednesday, May 25.

At 9 A.M. Abby entered the hotel’s restaurant and asked for the same table. She followed the waiter to it and was mildly surprised because Mr. Hassan Mansour was not there. She took a seat and ordered coffee, juice, toast and jam. She texted Mitch just to say good morning and he responded quickly. She was not surprised that he was awake because he had not slept ten hours in the last month.

A well-dressed Moroccan couple sat at the nearest table. The gentleman was working for Cory and on her team. He glanced at her but did not acknowledge her presence.

Hassan finally came in and was all smiles and apologies. He had been delayed in traffic and so on, and wasn’t the weather nice? He asked for tea and went on for a few minutes as if they were tourists. She ate dry toast and tried to calm her nerves.

“So, Mrs. McDeere, what is the status?” She had asked him at least three times to call her Abby.

“We’re expecting two wires this morning, and they will tally things up to seventy-five million, as I promised.”

A lame effort at a frown, but it was obvious Hassan and his clients wanted the money. “But the deal was for a hundred million, Mrs. McDeere.”

“Yes, we are aware of that. You demanded one hundred and we tried our best to get it. But we’re a bit short. Seventy-five is all we have. And, it is imperative that I see Giovanna before the money is wired.”

“And you have an account at Trinidad Trust, as directed?”

“Yes,” she said, playing along. She knew that he knew the answer. His banker, Solomon Frick, had informed him that the account had been opened, or that’s what Jennings had told Mitch. Frick and his bank were waiting. Everything was set. The fortune was practically in hand, and Hassan was having a difficult time hiding his excitement.

“Would you like some toast?” she asked. There were four buttered slices on the small plate.

He took one, said “Thank you,” and pulled it in half.

She said, “We have plenty of time. The deadline is hours away.”

“Yes, it’s just that my client still demands one hundred.”

“And we cannot meet that demand, Mr. Mansour. It’s quite simple. Seventy-five, take it or leave it.”

Hassan actually grimaced at something, probably the idea of walking away. He sipped his tea and tried to appear concerned that things were falling apart. They ate for a few moments, and he said, “Here is our plan. I’ll meet you in the lobby at four P.M. You will inform me that all of the wires are complete and your money is ready. We will then leave together, go to a safe place, and you will see Giovanna.”

“I’m not leaving the hotel.”

“As you wish.”