Spin Move

by David Lender

  They pushed the man down onto the floor next to the woman.

  Damn. He wasn’t target two. Stevens pulled the woman up to face him.

  “Where are they?” he said.

  “They fly out two days ago.”

  “Where?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t know.” Her eyes showed enough fear that he figured she wasn’t lying.

  “Who?”

  “Ms. Katie, Mr. Dolan and Mr. Rudiger. And . . .”

  “And who?”

  “Styles.”

  “Who?”

  “Pitbull. I wish he remain here. Then you no be so rude.”

  Stevens glared into her eyes. “Don’t call anyone.”

  The woman didn’t respond.

  “I said don’t call anyone, you hear? You do, we’ll come back for you.”

  The woman still didn’t respond.

  “Tell me you understand.”

  The woman moved her head up and down.

  Katie and Rudiger rode the elevator down to the second floor of the Royal Hotel. He had arranged for the meeting with Ducasse in a conference room he’d booked in the business center. They were dressed down from the day before, Rudiger in jeans with a sports jacket over an open-necked shirt, Katie wearing pants and a blazer over a shirt with an Hermès scarf tied around her neck.

  Rudiger said to Katie, “You still seem concerned.”

  “No more than usual. I’m convinced the only way to hold this together is to fast-track it. Otherwise there’s too much room for slipups.” The elevator door opened and Katie walked out first. She said, “Remember our agreement. I’m the bad guy, you’re the good guy.” They started down the hall toward the conference room.

  Rudiger said, “Okay, Counselor.”

  Katie smirked and stopped to let Rudiger enter first.

  Here we go, Rudiger thought. He pushed the conference room door open and walked in. Ducasse and his senior lawyer, Rupert Stillman, stood up, both smiling. Ducasse’s clothing was his usual over-the-top, a hammer-and-nails suit with peaked lapels, purple shirt and lavender tie with a lavender pocket square. Stillman wore lawyer’s gray, a muted tie.

  Ducasse’s brow rose with surprise when he saw Katie walk in. He recovered and smiled.

  Rudiger and Katie walked to the end of the conference table where the two men stood. Katie didn’t offer her cheek to Ducasse, but instead extended her hand and shook his.

  Ducasse said to Rudiger, “I thought we’d agreed it was to be business principals and one senior legal advisor only.”

  Rudiger said, “Yes. You didn’t know? Angela is my lead lawyer.”

  Ducasse said, “I had no idea.”

  Katie said, “My private practice is limited to my long-standing relationships, and John is my most important client.”

  They all sat.

  Rudiger said, “As I said on the phone, Philippe, I’m really pleased you’ve elected to step up. We only want one equity partner, so this fits the bill.”

  Rudiger could see Ducasse’s gaze moving from him to Katie, a look of disbelief when he took her in. He was obviously mystified that she wasn’t just some wealthy divorcée without a clue. Rudiger had to keep himself from grinning.

  Ducasse looked back to Rudiger and said, “We’re pleased as well.” He turned to his lawyer. “Rupert?”

  Stillman said, “We picked up your draft documents yesterday, and much appreciated the completeness of the package and the obvious care that was put into them.” He inclined his head at Katie. “The financing documents are in good order as well.”

  Katie said, “We’ve been negotiating them for a few weeks and they’re almost done. A $900 million construction loan with $900 million of takeout debt and a $200 million revolver once the construction is complete.”

  “There was one minor omission,” Stillman said, and he picked up two copies from a stack of documents piled in front of him and handed one each to Rudiger and Katie, “a letter of intent to memorialize our understanding that you’ll shut down all other discussions and negotiate with us exclusively until we sign the final contractual agreements.”

  Katie took Rudiger’s copy and placed it on top of hers in front of her, pushed them back toward Stillman. “No, that wasn’t an omission,” she said, then to Ducasse, “As John told you, we’ve been dealing with a number of potential equity participants on a first-come-first-served basis.”

  Ducasse furrowed his brow and said to Rudiger, “I don’t understand. Yesterday you said we had a deal.”

  “We do,” Rudiger said. “A handshake. We’re prepared to go full out with you to get this signed up and closed as soon as possible.”

  Ducasse said, looking back and forth from Rudiger to Katie, “But this is very unusual. We reached an agreement, so there should be no hesitation about memorializing the agreement in a letter of intent. It will establish our exclusivity and give us an adequate window of time to sign the final contracts and close the transaction.”

  “We aren’t prepared to do that,” Katie said. “If we sign such a letter of intent with you, we’ll have to shut down discussions with any other potential equity participants. Anyone waiting in the wings will go away. If for some reason we can’t come to terms with you, then we’re left high and dry.”

  Ducasse sat back in his chair as if he needed a moment to think. He looked at Stillman, then back at Rudiger. “We’ve never done a transaction this way before.”

  Katie said, “I’m aware you’d much prefer to lock us up with a letter of intent, then take your time and do it the old-school way. But this is standard procedure in the modern world, and John won’t do it any other way.”

  Stillman said, “And what is your proposed timetable?”

  “I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t have all the agreements fully negotiated, sign them and close in a week to ten days.”

  Ducasse’s eyes widened.

  “You said yourself, Rupert, that the package of documents is complete. We have all of our due diligence disclosures prepared, even filed for all the necessary approvals and permits, as evidenced by the fact that we’ve commenced demolition.”

  Stillman didn’t respond. Ducasse looked at him as if for an answer.

  Katie said to Rudiger, “Why don’t we give Philippe and Rupert a few minutes to think it over privately.” She stood up.

  Rudiger followed her lead. He said to Ducasse, “We’ll go get a cup of tea.”

  Ducasse smiled and stood, his composure returned. “Thank you. Please give us ten minutes or so, and then we can talk things through.”

  Katie and Rudiger left. He grinned at her as they walked down the hall.

  “What?” she said.

  “I have this image of you in your blue bathing suit the day we met in Antigua, and I keep forgetting you were an Assistant DA in Manhattan, then a prosecutor with the U.S. Attorney’s Office. I’ve never seen you in action.”

  “I don’t mind saying I was one of the best young prosecutors in our office. You should have seen me in front of a jury, cross-examining a hostile witness.”

  “I prefer the image of you in the blue bathing suit.”

  They had a cup of tea in the downstairs lobby.

  Katie said, “I’d love to hear what’s going on up there.”

  “I’ll bet Ducasse still hasn’t recovered. Did you see his face when he saw you walk in? And then when I told him you’re my lead lawyer?” He laughed.

  “I have to admit I enjoyed pushing him around a little.”

  “You really spun him. Angela Conklin, former $30 million patsy, now in-your-face lawyer.”

  Ten minutes later Rudiger checked his watch and said, “Okay, showtime again.” When they walked back into the conference room, Ducasse and Stillman were still seated at the far end of the table. They both stood again, Ducasse with his genteel s
mile. When Katie and Rudiger sat back down, Ducasse said, “Thank you for the time. We talked it over, and we think we have a way to proceed that should make both parties comfortable.” He turned to Stillman.

  Stillman said, “We propose a simple letter agreement in which we confirm our willingness to proceed together on an exclusive basis, but which won’t preclude you from maintaining contact with other parties. In the event we two can’t come to terms, and you fund the transaction with another party within 30 days, you agree to reimburse our expenses.”

  Ducasse added, “We’ll be spending a great deal of money in legal and other professional fees.”

  Rudiger said, “We already have, and we’ll be spending just as much, maybe more than you going forward.”

  Katie said, “And there’s no way to police the letter agreement you propose. If we can’t come to terms with you, it could be because you dig in your heels and are unreasonable about certain conditions.”

  They paused.

  Ducasse looked at Stillman for a long moment, then at Rudiger. “Very well,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. But only with a timetable that assures us that we have your full attention. We’ll go back to Geneva, fully digest and mark up all the documents, and expect to be back on-site here at your local law firm’s offices in three days. Then we’ll negotiate nonstop until we either have a deal or not. Agreed?”

  Rudiger’s mind whirled. Our local law firm’s offices? That’s one he hadn’t planned on, figured the negotiations would be conducted with long-distance conference calls. He said, “Our law firm just set up their new local office and they’re living out of boxes. I suggest we work here. We can book a couple of conference rooms at the hotel for the duration.”

  They shook hands on it and Ducasse and Stillman left.

  After they closed the door Rudiger took Katie in his arms and kissed her.

  When they got back to their room after leaving Ducasse and Stillman, Rudiger saw Katie plunge her hand into her bag and pull out her cell phone. She put it to her ear, checking her voicemail. She started pacing and her face darkened.

  Rudiger felt a flash of alarm.

  Katie dialed a number and he heard her say into the phone, “Flora, it’s Katie.” A long pause. “Flora, slow down.” Another pause, this one much longer. Katie told her, “Don’t worry about the house, just lock it up and leave. Right now. Go to the hotel and call me if anything else happens. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up and turned to Rudiger, her face drained of color.

  “What’s wrong?” Rudiger said.

  “I had my phone turned off during the meeting. I got a voicemail from Flora, called her back. She’s frantic, said four men stormed the house with guns, put Flora and her husband on the floor, searched the house. When the men figured out no one else was home, they demanded to know where we went. She told them we flew out two days ago, she didn’t know where.”

  Rudiger’s spine went stiff. He started trying to figure it out. Maybe a case of mistaken identity? But they stormed the house with guns.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Rudiger said.

  “Flora said there were at least four inside the house, and she thinks she saw another one or two outside. It was a trained team from the sound of it, maybe some kind of black ops.” Katie was looking off at the wall, thinking.

  Rudiger said, “After us?”

  “I can’t think of any other explanation. This could be something I’ve heard of but never seen done before. It’s called a snatch-and-grab.”

  “A what?”

  “I forget the legal term for it—oh yes, ‘irregular rendition’—where we go into another country, grab a fugitive and bring him back home for prosecution.”

  “Is that legal?”

  Katie said, “I’ve only heard of it for terrorists. People we would make disappear to Guantánamo. But I thought we’d stopped all that. And I’ve never in my entire time working for Holden ever heard of him considering something like this.”

  “I thought if they didn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S., that something like this was illegal.”

  She looked Rudiger in the eye. “Legal isn’t the primary consideration in our case. They grab us, ship us back to the U.S., and we have to fight our way out of it on the grounds we were illegally extradited. Otherwise we stand trial. They throw us in jail while we wait to see who wins that argument.”

  “Not one I want to fight out if I can avoid it.”

  “Me neither.” Katie shook her head. “That was a real screw up, my using that fake Angela Conklin passport to go to Cape Verde in the first place. That let Holden track me there.”

  “It was a nice place while it lasted. But I can’t see going back there now,” Rudiger said. “But there is one good thing about this.”

  “Which is?”

  “They don’t know where we are now.”

  Katie nodded.

  Rudiger said, “Still, maybe we should change hotels. And register using different names and passports than we did here.”

  They were seated in Holden’s office in front of his desk, Shepherds and the new guy, Johnston.

  “So what went wrong?” Holden said.

  “They weren’t there, that’s all,” Shepherds said.

  “I know that, but did we figure out where they are?”

  Johnston said, “Nothing on the commercial airlines, so we checked the charters.”

  Shepherds said, “The day before our team went into Dolan’s house, a chartered Gulfstream flew into Oujda, Morocco, with three passengers, four if you count the dog.”

  Johnston said, “The manifest said the passengers were James Scott Rockford, Elizabeth Davenport and Fred Beamer. And a dog named Styles.”

  Shepherds laughed.

  Holden said, “What’s funny?”

  Johnston said, “Rockford, Davenport and Beamer.”

  Shepherds laughed again.

  Holden felt a ripple of annoyance. “I said, what’s funny?” He stared directly into Shepherds’ eyes, then Johnston’s.

  Shepherds said, “They’re all characters on The Rockford Files, the old TV show.”

  “Jim Rockford, the star of the show, and Beth Davenport, his lawyer and sometime girlfriend.”

  Shepherds said, “And Fred Beamer, an auto mechanic and wannabe private eye, who always got Rockford into all kinds of trouble.”

  Johnston said, “Played by James Whitmore—”

  “Alright, knock it off,” Holden said. “So what does that mean?”

  “I think, sir,” Johnston said, “that means they’re all traveling under a group identity, obviously fictitious, and that they’ve got a sense of humor about it.”

  “So it sounds like it’s them,” Holden said.

  “It has to be,” Shepherds said.

  Holden thought for a moment, then said, “Alright, so find them, wherever they are in this Oujda, Morocco. Under those names, or as John Rudiger and Katie Dolan, or Walter and Angela Conklin, whoever.”

  Shepherds said, “It won’t be easy. There must be 30 or 40 hotels in that city, and we don’t have any jurisdiction to allow us access to hotel records. We’ll have to phone the hotels and ask to speak to one of them by name to know if they’re registered there.”

  “What, you can’t make 30 or 40 phone calls?”

  Johnston said, “They’re traveling with a dog. We’ll just Google hotels that are dog friendly. There can’t be that many in a primarily Muslim country.”

  “There you go,” Holden said. “So find them, and fast, because before long whoever was at Dolan’s house will tip them off we’re looking for them, if they haven’t already, and who knows where they’ll bury themselves next.”

  Ducasse and Father were having lunch in the private dining room of their offices in Geneva. The waiter had just finished clearing the plates for their céleri r�
�moulade appetizer and they were waiting for their entrées. Father reached to the center of the table and picked up the decanter of red burgundy. He raised his eyebrows at Ducasse, who nodded, and Father poured him a glass, then one for himself.

  Father said, “So what’s your conclusion about this LHIW Propylene deal?”

  “I’m going to do it.”

  “How much?”

  “It’s all or nothing. The whole thing.”

  “That’s $100 million.”

  “It’s only 5% of our new fund. Within the limits we’ve disclosed to our investors.”

  Father said, “Still, we’ve never committed that much to any one deal.”

  “You’re forgetting I know the business from the Tetra Propylene venture from Fund III, which failed—”

  “Yes, failed.”

  “—but which allowed me to understand the Houston deal that Rudiger was the primary investor in, and gave me the insight that his LHIW Propylene deal in Morocco is really a cookie-cutter of that deal.”

  Father said, “It damages us too much if it fails.”

  Ducasse was beginning to get impatient. All Father thought about was how much money he could pull out and when. Ducasse said, “This man Rudiger is a sophisticated financial player.”

  Father paused. “Maybe. But if the deal falls flat it will impact us severely. We have to strike a delicate balance here.”

  Ducasse laughed. “Don’t worry, Father, we’ll both still be able to take out however much we want. Remember, this is a $2 billion fund we’re raising. Plenty of room to support our lifestyle. And if the LHIW Propylene deal doesn’t work, we’ll simply fabricate a few more successful deals.” Ducasse sat back in his chair and sipped his glass of burgundy. He said, “But that’s not the delicate balance I’m concerned about.”

  Father said, “What is?”

  “Keeping Angela Conklin from getting suspicious.”

  “Why? You said yourself she fit the profile perfectly: divorced, wealthy, financially unsophisticated and relying on someone like Bemelman to help her make decisions. Even Bemelman thought she was an easy mark.”