James Grippando - A King's ransom

I put down my tin cup, leaned into the table, and looked her in the eye. “Lindsey, knock off the games. Maria told me about you and Guillermo. I know all about the story you were writing on the plight of these divers.”

“Did she also tell you that Dad was my source?”

“She said it was Guillermo. An unwitting Guillermo at that.”

“Anybody who asked, I told them it was Guillermo. This is a dangerous story. Dad was really sticking his neck out by feeding me information.”

“So you decided to put Guillermo’s neck on the chopping block?”

“He deserved it. The creep never told me he had a wife in Florida.”

“You didn’t know he was married?”

“How would I? She’s never here. I guess she prefers Palm Beach to Managua.”

“Go figure.”

“Anyway, after Dad dressed me down for dating his partner, we started meeting for coffee twice a week, that sort of thing. It didn’t take long for him to realize that my journalism career was going nowhere. That’s when he asked me to write this story.”

“You expect me to believe that he asked you to expose the abuses of his own company?”

“It’s not about his company. Rey’s Seafood trains its divers and uses the right equipment. Its divers get paid very well, too. That’s why Dad’s practically going out of business. He can’t compete with some of these other companies that send untrained divers down all day long with no gauges.”

“So it’s your job to write the story that will blow the competition out of the water. Literally.”

“Exactly. And they’re not too happy with me right now. Which is why I’m hiding out in this shack.”

“Why didn’t you just come home?”

“Because the story isn’t finished yet,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

That was the most grown-up statement I’d ever heard my sister utter. I smiled with my eyes and said, “I’m proud of you.”

“So was Dad.”

“I’ll bet he was. But what about Guillermo?”

“Honestly, he thinks Rey’s Seafood should shut up and do business the way some of his competitors do.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Sure. Training and equipment cost money. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was practically putting the company out of business. That’s why Dad went to Colombia.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Last time Dad and I talked, he said there were some good boats for cheap in Cartagena. Every extra boat they add to their fleet increases cash flow by about fifty grand a month. So Guillermo gave him two choices. Cut the diving costs or go get the boats.”

“Guillermo sent Dad to Colombia? He never told me that.”

“Take it from me and his wife. He’s not the most honest person I’ve ever met.”

“So I’m learning,” I said, staring blankly at the flickering flame in the lamp.

“What are you thinking?”

After a moment or two I looked back at my sister and said, “I think it’s time I had a serious talk with Guillermo.”

I woke to the sound of screaming monkeys. At least I thought it was monkeys.

Lindsey and I had stayed awake late, just talking. I’m not sure what time we’d finally gone to bed, if you could call straw-covered earth a bed. I woke several times during the night with a horrendous backache. It made me think of my father, sleeping on the cold ground in some mountain jungle night after night.

A beam of sunlight was streaming in through a hole in the east wall. I rolled over to keep it from hitting me in the eyes, but sleep was out of the question anyway. I thought the screaming monkeys were at it again, and then I realized that all along it had been the unfamiliar ring of the satellite phone I’d rented for this trip. If I’d been insistent on going to Nicaragua, Alex had been equally insistent that I be reachable anywhere at any time, just in case of an emergency.

I answered with trepidation, fearful of what an “emergency” might mean in my family these days.

“Nick, I’m so glad I got you.” It was Jenna. She was one of three people who had the satellite number, along with Mom and Alex.

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. It’s only some legal maneuvering. I just got out of a hearing.”

It seemed early for court, but then I realized that she was two time zones ahead of me. “What happened?”

“I’ve been trying to keep the pressure on the insurance company while you’re away. I got in front of the judge this morning and forced them to produce a company rep who will tell us exactly why your father’s coverage was denied.”

“That’s great.”

“The bad news is that Quality Insurance is a Bermuda-based company. Duncan Fitz convinced the judge that we have to go there if we want to take the deposition.”

“When is it?”

“That’s why I’m calling. It’s tomorrow.”

“Yikes.”

“It’s the old adage: Be careful what you wish for. I told the judge we wanted to move as quickly as possible for your father’s sake.”

“You did exactly the right thing. Unfortunately, I’m literally in the middle of nowhere right now.”

“You want me to try to postpone it?”

“No. I’ll do what I have to do to get home tonight.”

“Anything I can do here to help?”

“Buy me a pair of knee socks and Bermuda shorts?”

“With those knees? Forget it.”

I laughed, then said, “You’re coming to Bermuda with me, right?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Well, I’m up against my old firm. It’s such short notice. We’ll practically have to prepare on the plane as it is. I mean-”

“Nick, I just asked a question: Do you want me to go?”

She wasn’t being testy. She was just bringing me back to the only thing that mattered. “Yes. I want you to go.”

“Then I’ll go.”

I smiled. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Sure. Have a safe flight.”

As I switched off the phone, I felt upbeat that the deposition was set and that Jenna was coming with me. But the part we’d left unspoken was more than a little awkward, even ironic.

Bermuda was the place we’d planned to go for our honeymoon.

At 11:00 A.M. Jenna and I were seated side by side in the St. George’s office of Cool Cash. Frankly, I’d been unaware that the firm even had a Bermuda office. Nice place to hold firm retreats for partners, I presumed. The office had just one resident barrister, who was currently seated at the end of the table reading the Wall Street Journal. The real warriors were seated across the table, Duncan from Miami and Maggie Johans from New York. As general counsel, Maggie was evidently staying right on top of every phase of the case.

It had taken some doing for me to get out of Nicaragua in time for the deposition, and I never did get to talk with Guillermo. That would have to wait.

“Swear the witness, please,” I told the stenographer.

Jason Lee was a vice president of Quality Insurance Company based in St. George’s. He was a large man, husky but not fat, with salt-and-pepper hair that was thinning on top. His attire was the Bermuda businessman’s uniform, khaki shorts and knee socks, oxford-cloth shirt and blue blazer.

I covered the requisite preliminaries, and just as soon as I started asking questions of substance, Duncan jumped on me with objections. It was getting annoying, and I prepared for the worst as I moved to the heart of the matter.

“Mr. Lee, why did Quality Insurance deny coverage?”

He sipped his water. “Legal reasons.”

“Not to be flip, but the whole point here is to determine whether the reasons were legal. So let me try again: Why did Quality Insurance Company deny coverage?”