James Grippando - A King's ransom

“It’s possible it’s a coincidence. Three million is a nice round figure, and kidnappers always demand millions for Americans, usually somewhere between one and five.”

“But you don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“I’m reading between the lines, but I think he was telling us that much.”

“My God. What could be worse than a kidnapper who knows we have a three-million-dollar policy and an insurance company that refuses to pay?”

She looked away. She clearly didn’t have an answer for that one. And neither did I.

The morning sun was burning brightly now, but I still felt cold. We packed up the radio and started back down the mountain.

Ireturned to Miami with one priority: resolve the insurance coverage issue.

The situation was touchy. My law firm represented Quality Insurance, the Bermuda company that had written my father’s policy. I knew the realities of life in a big firm. Not even the partners who liked me would dare tell a paying client to do right by Nick Rey or take their big book of business elsewhere. I was Lawyer Number 1,826 in seniority at a firm so riddled with turnover that nameplates were fastened to office doors not with glue or nails but magnets, as if second-year associates were as secure in their position as refrigerator art. My only hope was that just one lawyer with clout would have the backbone to arrange a meeting at which I could at least plead my case to the right set of deaf ears. Duncan Fitz was my best shot.

Before my trip to Bogota, Duncan had promised to make some inquiries with Quality. I followed up first thing Monday, my first day back to work since the kidnapping. I felt guilty about resuming normal activities with my father still in captivity, but my mother encouraged it, and our financial situation required it, especially if we ended up without insurance to pay the ransom and Alex’s expenses. Besides, I could think of no better way to get to the bottom of the insurance issue than to plant myself right in the hallowed halls of the law firm that represented the insurer.

The door to Duncan’s office was open, so I poked my nose inside.

“Got a minute?” I asked.

He looked up from his computer screen and waved me in. “How’d the trip go?”

I closed the door and took a seat in the wing chair facing him. Perched on the corner of his desk, he seemed eager for an update. Over the next few minutes I recapped the details, with a nifty tap dance around any mention of Alex. Since the insurance company had officially pulled her off the case, she didn’t want it known that she was helping me nevertheless.

“Wow,” he said. “Three million dollars. That’s a lot of money.”

“I guess if you’re a Colombian guerrilla, you think every American’s a millionaire.”

“I don’t mean to insult, but I assume that if this insurance problem isn’t worked out, your family doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “Did you find out anything?”

He rose and walked around to the credenza. “I like you, Nick. But this firm is even more tightly allied with Quality Insurance Company than you may realize.”

“How do you mean?”

“We don’t normally tell associates which partners serve as officers or directors of our clients, but in this case I’ll make an exception. Maggie Johans is a vice president and general counsel for Quality Insurance Company. As a partner, I owe a duty of loyalty to every client, but you can see how the duty to Quality is, shall we say, heightened.”

“I understand.”

“That said, I’m not going to leave you twisting in the wind.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned forward, hands atop his desk, peering out over the top of his spectacles to look me right in the eye. “To be blunt, the partners in New York are calling for your head. Maggie is practically apoplectic. As a favor to me, she picked up the phone and lit a fire over there to get your father’s case moving quickly. Imagine how she felt when her own investigators called to tell her that the Rey family was pressing a fraudulent claim.”

“Fraud?” I said, nearly choking on the word. “Is that what they think?”

“They apparently uncovered evidence of collusion with the kidnappers.”

“That can’t be. What is it?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. It’s a matter of attorney-client privilege.”

“This is ridiculous. Three of my dad’s crew members were killed in the attack. Another one saw him pulled from Cartagena Bay by Marxist guerrillas. There’s no collusion. He was kidnapped. He was lucky he wasn’t killed.”

“The insurance company isn’t so sure it was luck.” He lowered his eyes as he spoke, as if he were embarrassed to have said it.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“I couldn’t believe it either. But that’s where we are. Your claim is being denied as fraudulent.”

The silence between us was growing uncomfortable. The news was bad, but I didn’t want to lose Duncan’s support. I had to reel him back in somehow. “This may sound paranoid, but I suspect that the FBI might be behind this whole problem.”

“How?”

“If I share this with you, can I have your word that it will be kept in strictest confidence?”

“Of course. I consider this whole conversation to be friend to friend.”

“I had a meeting with a couple of hard-nosed FBI agents last week. They seem to think that my father’s business partner in Nicaragua may be engaged in illegal activities. Essentially, they’re blackmailing me. The FBI refused to help with my father’s kidnapping case unless my whole family promised to cooperate in the Nicaragua investigation.”

“What kind of illegal activity do they suspect?”

Already I was having serious second thoughts about going down this road. “They were narcotics agents.”

He looked at me with disbelief, which slowly gave way to anger. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“I’m sharing this with you because it’s all a railroad. Everything was going smoothly with the insurance company until the FBI started flexing its muscles.”

“You’re not suggesting that the FBI is behind the insurance company’s denial of your claim?”

“Think about it. No one in my family can be forced into playing informant for the FBI if we don’t need their help negotiating with the kidnappers. What better way for the bureau to make sure we need them than to muck up our insurance coverage?”

“You were right,” he said, scoffing. “That does sound paranoid.”

“All I ask is that you check and see if anyone at Quality Insurance has talked to the FBI. Do me that one small favor.”

“I’m not doing you any more favors!”

His forcefulness took me aback. I tried to respond in the most level tone I could muster. “I can’t sort this out without your help.”

“Then you shouldn’t have deceived me.”

“Deceived you? How?”

“The FBI is investigating your father’s fishing company for running drugs, and you didn’t even bother to tell me.”

“It’s my father’s partner, not the business. And if Guillermo had anything to do with drugs, my father wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

“We’re talking about perceptions. I went out on a limb burning favors for you and your family, calling my partners and colleagues, using my contacts, all to get the FBI and State Department to make your father’s kidnapping a priority. I put my own good name and the reputation of this law firm on the line. Now I’m told that I went to bat for someone suspected of drug smuggling.”

“You’re missing my point. The FBI is on a witch hunt. My father is the victim here.”