Jack said, “That’s just it, Sheldon, no one knows. We can’t predict. This is not a typical business transaction with rational people on both sides. They could kill her at any moment.”
Piper Redgrave, the third woman on the committee, said, “Jack, are you saying we should hit the line of credit and borrow the money?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We should borrow twenty-five million because that’s the extent of our policy. We give them ten tomorrow and say a prayer.”
Bart Ambrose said, “I talked to Citibank, as instructed. They’re ready, but they’ll require personal guarantees from each of us.”
There were groans, sighs, silent expletives, head-shaking in frustration. A two-thirds majority vote was required to borrow money.
Jack said, “That’s nothing new. Any objections?”
“Are we voting?” Morlock asked.
“Yes. Anyone opposed to borrowing twenty-five million from Citi on our line of credit?”
All nine shot quick, fierce looks around the table. Morlock raised his hand, then lowered it. Slowly, Ollie LaForge raised his.
“Anybody else?” Jack asked with contempt. “Okay, the vote is seven in favor, two opposed. Right?”
There was no further discussion. They filed out of the conference room in silence and hurried to their own offices.
And that was the easy vote. Every dime would be reimbursed under the firm’s insurance policy.
Or so they thought.
After the meeting, Jack called the insurance company for the update. Instead, he was put on hold and waited far too long. When the CEO said good morning, Jack was surprised. What he heard next was deflating. The claim was being denied on the grounds that Giovanna had been kidnapped and was being held by terrorists, as opposed to a criminal gang. The policy unequivocally excluded coverage for acts of terrorism.
“I can’t believe this,” Jack roared into the phone.
“It’s right there in black and white, Jack,” replied the CEO calmly.
Black and white. Since when were insurance policies clear about anything?
“Kidnapping is kidnapping,” Jack said, trying to control his anger. “The damned policy covers kidnapping.”
“Our sources tell us it’s the work of a terrorist organization, Jack. So we are denying. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Our counsel is emailing a denial memo as we speak.”
“I guess I’ll see you in court.”
“That’s up to you.”
Chapter 33
Luca rallied somewhat after a few hours in the hospital. Some different meds stabilized his blood pressure. A drip rehydrated him. A stronger sedative sent him into a long, much-needed nap. The best medicine was the constant attention of a thirty-year-old nurse with a stunning figure and a short white skirt. Bella watched it all from a corner, shaking her head. Some men were hopeless.
Luca was attempting to put together a deal that involved a reclusive Italian billionaire he had known for a long time. Carlotti was his name and he was an heir to an old family fortune built on olive oil. His politics did not jibe with Luca’s, but when it came to money the two had always managed to see past their differences. Carlotti was close to the prime minister and had bankrolled him for years. At Luca’s urging, he had agreed to pressure the prime minister into an elaborate plan to funnel money from the Italian treasury into a ransom fund owned by a company in Spain, where Carlotti spent most of his time. He was reluctant because paying kidnappers was against the law in Italy but not in Spain. However, he adored Giovanna and would do anything to help her. The prime minister was reluctant because one more scandal would easily topple his fragile government. But, as Luca argued vehemently, a bad outcome for Giovanna could do even more damage. The prime minister was getting shoved into a no-win situation. Luca was confident he could skirt the law and bluff the prosecutors later if necessary. Mitch was uncomfortable with any conversation in which the word “prosecutors” was mentioned.
The next step was a conversation with Diego Antonelli, the deputy minister they had met Monday afternoon at Luca’s. His office was in a nondescript government building in the Lateran section of eastern Rome, near a palace where some popes once lived, according to Roberto, who had the mildly annoying habit of pointing out minor points of historical interest to any non-Roman around him.
Mr. Antonelli had been less than cordial during his house call on Monday. Evidently, a meeting at 6:30 P.M. on a Thursday did not please him either. He made them wait twenty minutes and finally waved them into a small conference room near his suite. There were quick handshakes but no smiles.
“There is no record of this meeting,” he began pleasantly, and actually looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. The door had been shut tight and locked. Mitch suspected there were bugs everywhere.
“If someone asks, the meeting never happened.”
Not for the first time, Mitch questioned what he was doing. If an illegal bribe or payment was in the works, why was he in the room? Luca had hinted at finding enough loopholes in the law to get the ransom paid, but Mitch had thought that was solely the concern of Luca and his Italian buddies. Scully could not be a part of a conspiracy to circumvent the laws of any country. He shuddered at the thought of federal prosecutors in Manhattan having a rowdy time with those charges.
According to Luca, the purpose of the meeting was to confirm “the deal” with Antonelli, who would serve as the intermediary between Carlotti and the prime minister. From one of its discretionary funds, the Foreign Service would loan $50 million to a faceless corporation registered in Luxembourg and controlled by one of Carlotti’s sons. A repayment agreement would be signed but buried. The money would then be wired here and there and parked in an account where it would sit at the ready.
Antonelli seemed less than enthusiastic about the deal and spoke only to Roberto, in Italian. That was fine with Mitch. He followed the conversation well enough, but would have preferred to miss all of it.
Antonelli asked, “And in your opinion, Counselor, this complies with all statutes and will not raise concerns at the Justice Ministry?”
“I see no problem,” Roberto said confidently, though all three knew there was trouble at every turn.
“Well, the prime minister’s attorneys will review it tonight. I suspect they may have a different opinion.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll inform Luca.”
The meeting lasted less than ten minutes and both sides were eager to get out the door. Mitch left Roberto on the street and took the first cab to the airport. His secretary had juggled flights again and he was booked on one to Frankfurt, then JFK. In the back of the cab, he closed his eyes and dreaded the next ten hours.
What about the next five days? Not only was the ransom pot still empty, it had sprung a significant leak. Tomorrow’s “deposit” of $10 million was the easy step, though Mitch was irritated that two members of the management committee had voted no. By yanking the rug out from under them, the insurance company not only acted in bad faith, an issue for another day, but it had upset all possible scenarios for pooling the ransom. The deal with Carlotti was precarious at best and illegal at worst and was probably already unraveling. Mitch would report it to Jack Ruch, who would no doubt call Luca and start yelling. Everyone was sympathetic and desperate to save Giovanna, but Scully was not about to start breaking laws in any jurisdiction. There was no movement from the British government, in spite of numerous Scully operatives pecking away at the Foreign Minister. Riley Casey had met with Jerry Robb of the Reedmore firm that afternoon to gauge any interest in a quick settlement of the Lannak lawsuit. Typical for Robb, the meeting was short, tense, and a total waste of time.