“Eight,” Mitch replied.
“And how many times was the company forced to sue the government?”
“Five.”
“And of that number how many were eventually settled?”
“All five went to trial and Lannak won them all. After the court orders were entered, the cases were settled.”
Darian nodded slightly as if he, too, knew the numbers. “My point exactly. You take them to trial, you win an award, they stall and stall, then you convince the court to impose sanctions. The Libyans don’t like the word ‘sanctions’ and they usually settle, right?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Mitch said. “Some of the settlements were for a lot less than Lannak was entitled to. It’s hardball litigation.”
“Understood, but it’s the way of doing business over there. The Libyans have been through it many times and know the routine. Why would they suddenly decide to start killing people? So, to answer your question, we have ruled out, for the moment, any involvement by the regime. It’s too risky for them. They can’t survive if foreign companies get scared and run away.”
Darian was convincing and Mitch had nothing to argue.
He continued, “We have people on the ground in Tripoli and we’re digging. We have a couple of suspects, but I’m not prepared to discuss them remotely. One problem right now is that half the spies and double agents in the world are snooping around Libya, desperate for intelligence. The Brits, Turks, Italians, even the Libyans. And of course the Americans can’t wait to get in the middle of it. But we should have something to talk about by late afternoon. I can meet in our Manhattan office tomorrow at eight in the morning. Does that work?”
Everybody nodded and Jack said, “Yes, we’ll be there.”
It was raining when Mitch left the office that afternoon. Rain in the city usually made a mess of things, which was taken in stride by New Yorkers accustomed to surviving in all sorts of weather. Rain never bothered Mitch, except on game days. If the Bruisers had a game, then rain was catastrophic.
While he was on the subway, it had gone from a hard drizzle to a downpour, and there would be no chance of a game in Central Park. He entered their apartment at five-thirty and was met with the sad scene of Clark and Carter sitting side-by-side on the sofa, in full Bruiser uniforms, one holding a baseball, the other a glove, staring at the television. They were too deflated to say hello to their father.
“Rough bunch,” Mitch whispered to Abby as he pecked her on the cheek.
“I suppose it’s still raining out there.”
“Pouring. No chance of a game.”
“I really wanted to get them out of the house.”
Carter tossed the baseball into a chair and walked over to hug his father. He appeared to be near tears and said, “I was supposed to pitch, Dad.”
“I know, but that’s baseball. Even the Mets get rained out occasionally. The game will be made up this Saturday.”
“Promise?”
“I promise it will if it doesn’t rain again.”
“I guess you can take those uniforms off,” Abby said.
“I have a better idea,” Mitch said. “Leave the uniforms on. Let’s call the whole team, all the Bruisers, tell them to keep their uniforms on, and meet at Santo’s for pizza.”
Clark bounced off the sofa with a big smile.
“Great idea, Dad,” Carter said.
“Tell them to bring umbrellas,” Abby said.
Chapter 16
Giovanna was fourteen years old when her parents divorced. She loved them both and they adored her, their only daughter and youngest child, but when the marriage began to crack Luca and Anita thought it best to remove their children from the hostilities. They sent Sergio, their son, to a prep school in England and Giovanna to one in Switzerland, and when they were out of the way the parents fought some more, then grew weary of it and signed agreements. Anita moved out of the villa and gave up all claims to it. It had been in Luca’s family for decades and Italian matrimonial law leaned heavily in his favor.
Anita took some money and a vacation home on Sardinia, and left Rome to try to put things back together. By the time she left, Luca had already arranged for his girlfriend, and future wife number two, to move in. The transition was another good reason for Giovanna to stay away.
She watched this from afar, grateful to be in Switzerland. She still loved her father, but at the time she didn’t really like him. They had never been close, primarily because of his ambition to build the greatest law firm in Italy. His drive kept him at the office or on the road far too often. Her brother, Sergio, was so turned off by Luca’s routine that he vowed never to become professional at anything. Currently he was living in Guatemala, drifting and painting street scenes in the city of Antigua.
Nor had she been close to her mother, Anita, who was a beautiful woman and watched with growing envy as Giovanna became just as beautiful. She competed with her daughter in fashion, style, weight, height, almost everything. Anita could not accept the realities of aging and grew more resentful as her daughter blossomed and grew taller and thinner. They had great mother-daughter times together, but there was always the undercurrent of competition.
When Anita realized her husband had a girlfriend, she was crushed and ran to her teenage daughter for support. Giovanna wasn’t prepared to deal with such chaotic emotions and pushed her away. For a long time she avoided her father, but there was always the nagging suspicion that she really couldn’t blame him for looking around. To get away from both of them, she embraced the idea of boarding school.
When Luca’s second marriage blew up, Anita was elated and wished him even worse luck. Giovanna was turned off by her mother’s gloating and tried to ignore both parents. During her last two years of boarding school she did not see either one. When they mentioned attending her graduation, she vowed to disappear and hide.
With time, most of the pain and anger dissipated. Luca, always quite the statesman, managed to patch things up with Giovanna. He was, after all, paying her college bills. When she started talking about law school, he was elated and made sure the right doors were opened. Anita found happiness in a serious boyfriend, a slightly older man with more money than Luca. He was Karlo, a wealthy Greek, and he had been through enough marriages to understand the need for tranquility. He would never marry again, but he, like Luca, would always adore women. He insisted on meeting Luca, and eventually brokered a truce between the exes.
Luca and Anita sat on the veranda, under quilts and sipping tea as the sun set. The night air was chilly but pleasant. The wide doors were open and, just inside them, in the breakfast room, Karlo played backgammon with Bella, Luca’s current companion. All spoke in low voices, and for long stretches of time the only sound was the tumbling of dice across the board. It was all so civilized.
As always, Luca had not been entirely forthcoming with Anita. He admitted he had pulled strings to get their daughter assigned to the Lannak case, but he had said nothing about encouraging Mitch to take her to Tripoli. Nor would he.
For Anita’s benefit, he was projecting the image of the wise old veteran who knew Libya inside and out and was confident Giovanna would survive this ordeal. Whether or not this soothed her mother was not clear. Anita was high-strung, emotional, and overly dramatic. Perhaps age, along with Karlo’s steady influence, had softened some of the edges and settled her down. Perhaps it was the pills she was taking in the bathroom. Whatever the reason, she had surprised Luca hours earlier with the phone call, said she was in Rome with Karlo and thought it was important for the parents to support one another. Could they stop by for a visit and maybe dinner? Luca thought it was a wonderful idea.