Joseph Finder - Power Play

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck go prickly, and then I realized he'd put the gun against the back of Hugo Lummis's head. Lummis started breathing hard through his mouth. He sounded as if he were about to have a heart attack.

"Put that gun down," Cheryl said. "Aren't you the one who was talking about 'no unnecessary violence'?"

Russell went on, ignoring her: "You think you can dig up a million bucks, Upton, if it means saving Fatso's life?"

Droplets of sweat broke out on Lummis's brow and his big round cheeks and began dripping down his neck, darkening his shirt collar.

"Yes," Barlow shouted. "For God's sake, yes! Yes, I'm sure it can be arranged if need be."

But from my other side came Ronald Slattery's voice. "No, it can't. You don't have signing authority for that kind of money, Upton."

"Signing authority?" said Russell, keeping the barrel of the Glock against Lummis's head. "Now, that's interesting. What's that mean? Who has signing authority?"

Slattery fell silent. You could tell he regretted saying anything.

"For God's sake, Ron," Barlow said, "the guy's going to kill Hugo! You want that on your conscience?"

"You heard the man, Ron," said Russell. "You want that on your conscience?"

"Give him the goddamned money," Lummis pleaded. "We've got K &R insurance-we're covered, situation like this. Good God!"

"All right," Barlow said. "Yes, I'm sure we can arrange that. We'll make it happen somehow. Just-please, just put down the gun and let's keep talking."

"Now we're cooking with fire," Russell said. He never raised his voice, I noticed. He seemed supremely confident, unflappable.

He lowered the gun. Walked up to Upton Barlow and stood behind him. "This is starting to sound like a productive conversation. Because if you can get me a million dollars, company like yours, you can do better."

After a few seconds, Barlow said, "What do you have in mind?"

"Upton!" Cheryl said warningly.

"I'm thinking a nice round number."

"Let's hear it."

"I'm thinking a hundred million dollars, Upton. Twelve of you here, that's"-he paused for maybe two seconds-"eight million, three hundred thousand bucks and change per head, I figure. Okay? Let's get to 'yes.'"

Ali looked at me, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was: This nightmare was only beginning.

The stunned silence was broken by Ron Slattery.

"But that's-that's impossible! Our K &R insurance coverage is only twenty-five million."

"Come on, now, Ronny," Russell said. "Aren't you the CFO? The numbers guy? Read the fine print, bro. Gotta be twenty-five million per insuring clause. Twenty-five million for ransom, twenty-five million for accident and loss coverage, twenty-five million for crisis-management expenses, another twenty-five million for medical expenses and psychiatric care. That's a hundred million easy. Did I add right?"

"This is ridiculous," Cheryl said. "You're dreaming if you think our insurance company's going to write you a check for a hundred million dollars."

Russell shook his head slowly. "Oh, no, that's not how it works, Cheryl. The insurance companies never pay. They always insist that you folks pay, then they pay you back. Legal reasons."

"Well, we don't have access to that kind of money," she said. "No one does."

Russell sidled up to her, his head down. "Cheryl," he said softly, "Hammond Aerospace has cash reserves of almost four billion dollars. I just read it in your notebook over there."

"But those funds are tied up, impossible to access-"

"You know what it said, Cheryl? Said 'cash and marketable securities.' I'm no money guy, Cheryl, but doesn't that mean it's liquid?"

"Look," said Ron Slattery, turning around to look at Russell, "even if we could somehow access that kind of money, how the hell do you think you're going to get it? Cash, unmarked bills, all that?" His slash of a mouth twisted into a sneer. "I don't even know where the nearest bank is."

"Turn around, Ron," Russell said.

Slattery wheeled around quickly.

"Now, you see, Ron, you're talking down to me, and I don't like that. Obviously I'm not talking about stacks of bills. I'm talking about a couple of keystrokes on the computer. Click click click. Electronic funds transfers and all that. Takes a few seconds. I do know a thing or two."

"Not as much as you seem to think you do," Slattery said.

Russell gave a sly smile.

"We have controls in place," Slattery said. "Security codes and PIN numbers and callback arrangements. Things you can't even begin to imagine."

"Thing is, I don't need to imagine it, Ron. I've got you right here to explain it all to me."

"And which account do you imagine this hundred million dollars would go into? Your checking account? Or your savings account? Do you have any idea how fast you'll have the FBI up your ass?"

"What I hear, the government doesn't do so good with offshore banks, Ron."

Slattery was quiet for a few seconds. "You have an offshore account," he said. A statement, not a question.

"Anything can be arranged," Russell said. "If you know the right people."

"Please." Slattery smiled. "Setting up an offshore account is a complicated legal process that can take days, if not weeks. And it's certainly not something you can do from here."

"Ronny, you ever heard of something called the Internet?"

Slattery's smile began to fade.

"These days, Ronny, all you need's a laptop. There's websites out there that wanna sell you ready-made shell companies, incorporated in the Seychelles and Mauritius, places like that. Couple hundred bucks. You pay an extra fee, you can get the whole thing done in a day." He shook his head. "You mean I know more about this stuff than a professional money guy like you?"

"Well, be that as it may," Slattery said, "it's all theoretical anyway. We don't have the authority to move money like that."

"You don't?" Russell took a folded piece of paper from a pocket in his vest and held it up. "Says here you folks are the 'Executive Management Team' of Hammond Aerospace. CEO, CFO, Treasurer, Controller, blah-blah-blah. All the top guys in the company. You're all here. You telling me you guys-and gal, excuse me-don't have the 'authority' to transfer corporate funds? I don't buy it."

Slattery shook his head. His bald pate had begun to flush.

"Russell." It was Upton Barlow.

Russell turned. "Yes, Upton?"

"What you're really asking for is ransom, isn't that right?"

"Ransom? I don't know whether I'd call it that, Upton. I'm just looking to make a business deal here. Call it a transaction."

"Well, call it ransom," said Barlow, "and all you've got to do is call our headquarters in Los Angeles and make a demand. We have kidnap-and-ransom insurance. The company will have no choice but to pay you the money, then you can be on your way, simple as that. Everybody wins. Except maybe Lloyds of London."

Ali and I exchanged glances again. She seemed to be as astonished as me that one of our own would actually suggest a ransom. But then, as I knew well, fear could do strange things to people.

"Well, Upton, I do appreciate the suggestion," Russell said pensively, as if he were a fellow executive helping to hash out the details of some complicated marketing strategy. "But kidnap-for-ransom, as I see it, is for amateurs. Or banditos in Mexico or Colombia. That might work in some foreign country where you've got the cops in on it with you, taking a piece of the action. But it never works here."

"But the difference is, we want to cooperate with you," Barlow said.

What an idiot, I thought.

Ali rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, Upton, but I won't play that game," he said. "I don't really feel like having this beautiful old fishing lodge turned into-what was it?-Waco or Ruby Ridge. You think I want me and my buddies trapped in here with SWAT teams all around, shouting at us through megaphones, using us for sniper practice, helicopters circling and all that? Uh-uh. No way, Josй. That's for idiots, Upton, and I'm not an idiot."