by David Lender
Rudiger thought for a moment, watched Horatio come back and take Katie’s order for a salad Niçoise, then move to the register. He said, “I was supposed to call Ducasse last night to confirm our negotiations in Morocco for this afternoon.”
“He’ll survive,” Katie said.
“I don’t know. He’s an antsy little flake.” He looked up at the clock over the bar. “It’s about 11:15 a.m. on the Continent right now. I’ll wait until about 12:30 Geneva time to call him. Try his office line and figure I won’t get him because he’ll be at lunch. Leave a voicemail, think of something to stall for time. We can reengage with him once we regroup and figure things out.”
“We need to get the hell out of here.”
“That’s what I said earlier.”
“I got chased by a cop back in the airport, who knew me by name, said I was under arrest.”
Rudiger glanced over at her, said, “You were right about Holden, then. What did you do?”
“I turned around and kneed him in the balls.”
Rudiger grimaced. “Where’d you learn that trick?”
“I grew up in Brooklyn, remember?”
“I’ll bet that made you a popular girl.” Rudiger thought a moment. “It’s not gonna make you popular with the Brit police. We should change our appearance, maybe dye our hair, wear glasses. My documents guy in New York has our photographs. I can ask him to change our hair color for the new passports.”
Katie said, “We’ll also need to find a place to stay. We can’t check into a hotel without a passport or some ID. Maybe find a newspaper, rent a room in someone’s house on a day-to-day or week-to-week basis.”
Just then Rudiger looked up at the television at the far end of the bar. A newscaster was talking into the camera. A grainy photograph of Rudiger and a recent one of Katie were on the screen beside him. He felt a rumble of dread.
“Oh, man.”
Katie snapped her head around to look at him. “What?”
“Don’t look. Our pictures are on the TV screen. Just walk away. I’ll meet you out front.”
When Ducasse returned from lunch, he checked his voicemail and found one from Rudiger.
Rudiger said, “I’m terribly sorry, Philippe, but Angela and I, believe it or not, were mugged in Oujda. Our cell phones, IDs, money and credit cards were stolen. If you’ve been calling our cell phones, that’s why you’ve been unable to get through. We were both roughed up and spent the night in the hospital for observation. We were just released. We’ll be up to speed again in a day or so, and I’ll be in touch about the timetable to resume negotiations on our deal. I hope you’ll understand.”
Ducasse sat back and said, “Oh my.” He listened to the next voicemail, surprisingly also from Rudiger, who said, “Philippe, it isn’t lost on me that with all our discussions of other parties we’d been soliciting for this deal, and our insistence upon having the flexibility to maintain contact with them throughout our negotiations with you, that you may be suspicious that we’re doing the deal away from you with someone else. Please understand that neither Angela nor I are in the habit of getting mugged, or spending time in the hospital. It’s not something we would make up. So please put your mind at ease. We have a handshake on a deal with you and we’re committed to moving forward. I hope to speak with you in the next day or two.”
Ducasse reached forward and pushed the button on his intercom to his assistant.
“Yes?”
“Frederick, I need you to contact Stefan Blastin for me. He should be on the way to the airport by now.”
“Right away, Philippe. I’ll reach him on his cell.”
“Thank you. Put him through when you get him.”
No sense in sending the young man to Morocco, at least for now. Blastin had protested that it was his wife’s birthday, after all. Plus, this way I’ll save us the airfare and look like the benevolent boss.
“The words ‘ham-handed’ come to mind,” Attorney General Martin said. “They ran right past 15 or 20 cops? How did the Brits let that happen?”
Holden said, “I wouldn’t say it was just them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I worked out the plan in advance with them.” Holden shifted in his seat, looked across his desk at Johnston, then Shepherds seated in front of his desk. He was glad he hadn’t put the AG on speakerphone.
“Plan?” Martin said, sounding annoyed.
“Instead of just bringing them home, we decided to drop them off at Heathrow, out cold in wheelchairs, wait for them to wake up and arrest them in public.”
“Why the hell’d you do that?” Now sounding angry.
“First, because we were concerned that we might not get the snatch-and-grab past a judge back here in the States. So we wanted the Brits to arrest them and extradite them the usual way. Second, the Brits leaked the whole thing to the press and they had camera crews on-site to film it, give us a splashy bust on the news.”
“Charlie, we’ve known each other, what, 20 years? This is the biggest boneheaded move I’ve ever seen you pull.”
“I take full responsibility for it,” Holden said.
“You’re taking full responsibility?” Martin said, outraged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m the one who looks like an idiot down here in Washington. I had to move mountains to get resources for that kind of an operation, and now I have to go back and explain that one of my most experienced guys screwed it up.”
Holden closed his eyes and hung his head.
Martin said, “That was an amateur screw up, trying to stage your bust for the cameras. It’s like doing a touchdown dance before you get to the end zone, then having the other team strip the ball from you and recover the fumble—”
“Yeah, got it.”
“—and then having to watch the replay on the big screen in the stadium ten times.”
“I’m sorry, Dan.”
“Nobody cares if you’re sorry!” Martin yelled. “Do you have any idea where they are?”
“No. But we lifted all their IDs, credit cards, cash and passports, so they’re running around with only the shirts on their backs. We assume they’re still someplace in the UK.”
“Well, that really narrows it down. And based on history, this guy Conklin figured out how to deal with that a long time ago. You’ve been trying to nail him for, what, 11 years?”
Holden didn’t need to be reminded.
Martin left a long pause before saying, “You damn well better find them, or I’m not going to be able to give you air cover on this one, Charlie.” He hung up.
CHAPTER 8
Rudiger put a rush on their passports, so his documents man in New York only took two days to express them to the flat they’d rented from a university professor on sabbatical. By then they had new credit cards and cash. They’d changed their appearance as well. Katie had cut her hair short and dyed it dark brown. Rudiger had dyed his hair and the beard he’d begun to grow blond. They’d bought nonprescription cosmetic contact lenses, Katie’s colored brown and Rudiger’s blue.
Katie called Daddy their second night in London to tell him they would leave the next day. They left the flat the next morning, had a car service drive them to the Folkestone Terminal in Cheriton to take the Eurostar train through the Eurotunnel to Paris.
“Our train leaves in about 20 minutes,” Katie said to Daddy over the phone.
“In that case I’ll see you in about three hours.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I booked a Gulfstream G650 through the charter company we used to go to Morocco. Styles and I landed in Le Bourget Airport in Paris about an hour ago.”
“Daddy, that’s crazy,” she said, even though she was thrilled.
“No it isn’t. How else would you get home?”
She laughed. “We’d fly commercial.”
“I wouldn’t h
ear of it.”
“Daddy, what’s gotten into you?”
“Whattaya mean? A business mogul who just sold his defunct refinery site for millions can’t fly to Paris to pick up his daughter and her boyfriend?”
“You’re too much.”
“Call me when you get to Paris. I’ll be waiting at the Le Bourget Airport.” He hung up.
She laughed and turned to Rudiger. “Daddy’s still in character as Carter Bowles. He chartered a private jet and flew up with Styles to pick us up in Paris. This whole propylene deal has been really good for him.”
Rudiger smiled. “It’s probably easier to get through passport control and out of France that way than it is flying commercial,” he said, his smile fading. “But the passport control here in Cheriton is the one I’m concerned about.”
Katie said, “I hear passport control at the Cheriton terminal is more relaxed than at the airports.”
Rudiger shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they’re gonna get us, this is where it’ll happen.”
When they got out of the car they split up. Katie could see Rudiger about ten people in front of her in the line for passport control. She felt a rush of energy as she saw him sail through. When it was her turn, the agent looked at her as if studying her face for too long, gave her a flutter of apprehension, then stamped her passport, handed it back and waved her through. Rudiger was nowhere in sight on the platform. They’d agreed to sit in the third car, but not together. She entered the car, walked up the aisle until she saw Rudiger, passed him and sat down about ten rows in front of him.
She let out a sigh. Okay so far.
The trip was uneventful. When they arrived in Paris they took a taxi to Le Bourget Airport. Katie’s eyes teared up and her throat went lumpy when she walked into the terminal and saw Daddy and Styles sitting side by side. She waved. Daddy showed no recognition, but Styles started prancing in place, whimpering and wagging his tail. “Daddy!” she called out. He did a double take and then his face lit up. He let go of Styles’ leash, and Styles ran to her, the entire rear half of his body wagging. He greeted her, then Rudiger. They walked to Daddy.
“I didn’t recognize you,” he said.
She hugged him. “Thank God you’re safe.”
She turned to Rudiger, beaming, and said, “We made it.”
“Yeah, looks like it. And tomorrow, we’ll get our deal with Ducasse back on track as well,” Rudiger said. He kissed her.
Katie reminded Rudiger that Charlie Holden had no jurisdiction in Cape Verde, no way to get local police to watch for them at the house, and after they’d escaped in the UK it was unlikely Holden could mount a similar snatch-and-grab. Nonetheless, when they arrived they went directly to the ClubHotel Riu Karamboa, where Frank had booked them adjoining rooms. Frank said, “I brought your luggage back from the hotel in Morocco.”
“Wow, that’s a relief,” Rudiger said.
Katie looked at him. “Rescued from 20 years in prison and you’re concerned about some clothes and luggage?”
“My Rudiger passport, other IDs and credit cards, along with a couple of other identities are in the false bottom of my bag.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m a little sentimental about Rudiger.”
“Whatever,” Katie said and walked to the minibar. “Anyone else joining me for a drink?”
Frank said, “I’ve got a bottle of Jameson’s in my room.” He rolled himself through the doorway adjoining their rooms and came back with a bottle. Rudiger walked over and helped Katie fix drinks, then they all sat down around the table on the balcony. The air was warm and dry, the smell of barbecue cooking and the sounds of people getting lively in the bar adjacent to the pool downstairs.
“It’s a hell of a lot better than being in that clammy air of the UK,” Rudiger said.
Katie said, “It’s just good to be back home—well, sort of home. And knowing that we’re all safe.” She turned to Frank, put her hand on his forearm. “I was so worried about you when I woke up in Heathrow, Daddy.” She looked down at Styles, who was curled up on the floor between them. “You, too, little man.” She looked back up at Frank. “My heart just about exploded when I saw them shoot him. I didn’t realize it was a dart.”
Frank said, “It’s all over now. And I think when the soreness in my chest from that dart wears off I’ll be able to laugh about the whole thing. Even now, I have to admit I haven’t had this much excitement in as long as I can remember.” He laughed. “Well, I guess I can laugh about it already.” Rudiger smiled. Katie laughed. “And look, I got a souvenir from the escapade.” He reached beside him in the wheelchair and came up with a gun in his hand. “One of their dart guns, with a full magazine of sedative darts.”
Rudiger saw Katie’s mouth drop open. “How’d you get that?” she said.
“It was laying on the floor when I woke up.”
Rudiger said, “It must’ve been from the guy that Styles took down and snapped his wrist. Fell out of his hand and slid away and nobody noticed in the confusion.”
Frank handed Rudiger the gun.
“It’s light,” Rudiger said, hefting it.
“All plastic, even the CO2 cartridge is plastic. It doesn’t register in metal detectors or on X-rays. I know because I had it in my luggage when I flew back here from Morocco.”
Rudiger handed it back.
Katie looked over at Rudiger and said, “So tomorrow it’s back to business.”
Rudiger said, “Yeah. I’ll call Michel, our movie producer, first thing in the morning, see if I can line up his actors who played our lawyers for the day after tomorrow, then I’ll call Ducasse and set it up at one of the hotels in Oujda.”
After their second round of drinks, Rudiger walked into the living room and returned with a glass ashtray. He said to Katie, “We’ll need to show some bruises from our mugging. Give me a shot in the forehead with this so I can walk into the negotiations with an egg and bruise on my head.”
“I’m not going to hit you in the head with that.”
“Come on, it won’t hurt that much.”
“Would you hit me with that if I asked you to?”
“Of course not.” They all laughed.
Later, Rudiger noticed that Katie didn’t even cast a disapproving eye at Frank when he suggested a third round.
Rudiger kept watching Katie as she alternately watched her father and smiled back at him as they talked. It dawned on him that during the whole episode in the UK he hadn’t really worried about her. He guessed it was because he knew she could take care of herself. But now he felt a rush of emotion, relief that she was safe.
The next morning Rudiger called Michel, arranged for the actors who played the lawyers on their last trip to Morocco. The actor playing one of the junior lawyers was busy filming a movie, but the rest were available. He tentatively planned for them to fly in the next afternoon, with negotiations to start the following morning. He called the Atlas Orient hotel, made reservations and lined up two conference rooms.
Then he took a deep breath and called Ducasse.
“Philippe, it’s John Rudiger.” Listening for Ducasse’s tone, trying to take his temperature.
“John, I received your voicemails. Are you and Angela alright?” Concern in his voice.
Rudiger chuckled. “Yeah. We had a bit of a scare. Jumped by four guys when we were walking someplace at night we never should’ve been. If you don’t know a city very well, you can get yourself in trouble.”
“It’s shocking. Were you severely injured?”
“Some bruises and scrapes, but we’re fine. So, on to our deal. I apologize again for the delay, but we’re ready to proceed as you originally suggested: we work pretty much nonstop until we’re finished. Can you and your team make it into Oujda tomorrow evening and be ready to start first thing in the morning the following day?”
“Absolutely. We’ve reviewe
d all the documents, compiled our comments and we’re ready to go whenever you are. I’ll call my attorneys and make the arrangements.” Rudiger could hear the enthusiasm in his voice.
“Great. It’s the Atlas Orient hotel. I took the liberty of reserving a block of rooms for you and your team. They’re under my name. I’ve reserved two conference rooms for two weeks. Safe travels.”
He hung up.
Rudiger sat back and smiled.
Katie, sitting adjacent to him on the sofa, said, “I only heard your side of it, but it sounded like everything is all set.”
Rudiger nodded. “We managed to hold it together after all.”
“Let’s fly in early enough tomorrow so I can have multiple copies of all the documents produced and I can rehearse with the actors playing the other lawyers.”
Rudiger said, “Good idea. And Michel’s having a makeup guy flown down to touch us up with some bruises and bandages.”
“Maybe I should’ve just brained you with that ashtray after all,” Katie said.
They both laughed.
That afternoon they changed back into themselves: Katie bought a strawberry-blonde wig that matched her own hair color and Rudiger dyed his hair back to his natural color. They saved their colored contact lenses for later, and Rudiger bought a blond wig, just in case.
They left Frank and Styles at the hotel and flew into Oujda the next morning, again on a chartered jet. Rudiger had seen how disappointed Frank was not to be part of the show, so he promised they’d call frequently to update him on how it was going.
Katie put everything in place in the conference rooms herself. When the actors arrived she handed each of them some lines she’d scripted out for them.
“François, you’re our environmental expert.”
The man nodded, reading.
Katie said, “You don’t have to hit the lines exactly, just pick up enough of the buzzwords to make yourself sound credible.”
She turned to one of the others. “Alain, you’re our permits and approvals man.”
The man nodded.
