Eye for Eye

by J K Franko

  Water booties, men’s size 10

  10-gallon gas can (full)

  Handheld waterproof VHS radios (2)

  Emergency locator

  Hefty 13-gallon trash bags (1 box)

  6-pack Michelob Ultra

  6-pack Cristal beer

  Ice pick —Heavy Duty Titanium Ice Pick from ASR Outdoor, Silver — C

  Piece 12” x 12” plywood

  Four-foot long 2” x 6” planks of wood (2)

  Medium-sized black hand towel — C

  While Susie was shopping, Roy slept on an American Airlines flight to Seattle, connecting through Dallas-Fort Worth. The flight arrived around noon with the time difference, which gave him most of the day for meetings and left enough time for him to catch the red-eye at 10:30 p.m., arriving home at 7:10 a.m. the next morning.

  Roy had scheduled four meetings back-to-back, though only one was of any real importance to him. Due to the nature of that last meeting, he needed to make the trip alone.

  David hadn’t been very happy about it. Roy’s junior partner was paranoid.

  When Roy first met David in the offices of his own startup, he noticed a poster hanging on the wall behind David’s desk. At first glance, it looked like one of those eagle-soaring motivational posters that usually have a caption like: Teamwork. Working together means winning together.

  But, on closer inspection, the caption read: Only the paranoid survive. The image was of a large herd of gazelles running in all directions. Just barely visible at the top left was a cheetah who was feasting on one of them.

  David suspected everyone and trusted no one. Additionally, he was coming up on a major milestone that exacerbated his paranoia: Cruise Capital’s four-year-up-or-out policy.

  Roy believed in only keeping talent that could step up to full partner level. In his opinion, four years was long enough to determine whether someone was fit to be partner. He also had a track record of axing more people than he kept. And, while David was confident in his abilities, anything out of the ordinary right now was bound to make him skittish. Roy’s solo trip to Seattle could be interpreted in two ways: either he was giving David additional responsibility—meaning that he would be “stepping up”—or he was edging him out.

  “David, it’s not a question of trust, man,” he’d told him. “It’s a matter of efficiency. You do the Austin trip this month and I’ll go to Seattle. We’ll get twice as much done.”

  “But Roy, this is supposed to be a partnership. You’re the one who told me that ‘two heads are better than one.’ Now, when you’ve finally got me agreeing with you, you head off alone. Don’t get me wrong, I can handle the meetings by myself, but I thought that was the whole point of this partnership—the whole synergy thing.”

  “It is. Of course it is, David. It’s just a question of resources. I don’t need to be in the room with a company to call ‘bullshit.’ Neither do you. You go to Austin and let them pitch you. I’ll do the same in Seattle. We weed out the ones that are non-starters. Then, we jointly follow-up on the ones that look promising. Get more info. Work them together.”

  Roy could have kicked himself. David’s reaction wasn’t something that he had anticipated, and he should have. Nonetheless, he’d managed to persuade him that the divide and conquer strategy made sense.

  Which meant that, at least for now, he’d managed to allay David’s suspicions.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  I believe that Roy’s decision to meet with McCall was probably what put their plan at greatest risk.

  For Roy, it was about confirming what he believed about Harlan and the rape. So, from that perspective, it could be argued that it was somewhat honorable that he should even take the risk to ensure that they weren’t planning on ending the life of an innocent young man. But then, this is Roy I’m talking about. This is what he does. In business, performing due diligence is just another part of the investment process.

  Nonetheless, from a purely strategic perspective, it was a dangerous move.

  The meeting was set at the Trace Bar in the W Hotel Seattle. It had been a long day—three meetings down, one to go.

  He ordered a club soda with lemon and was eating bar nuts when he heard someone ask, “Roy Cruise?”

  He looked over his shoulder and stood. “Hey, Marty McCall?”

  They shook hands.

  McCall looked slightly younger than he did in his online photos. He was taller than expected, too, wearing jeans with cowboy boots and a white t-shirt under a light, black leather jacket.

  “What you having?” Roy asked.

  “Beer please,” he said to the bartender who was hovering nearby. “You got a pilsner?”

  “Rogers okay?” replied the bartender.

  McCall gave him a thumbs-up, and turned toward Roy, who jumped right in. “So, TrueData Series A. You guys are looking to raise quite a lot of cash. Where does it get you?”

  McCall went into a detailed discussion of his proposed use-of-funds plan, then preached some about the inefficiencies of “government everything” and how “just fixing procurement” could save taxpayers a ton of money and make TrueData shareholders wealthy.

  Roy listened to the pitch with interest, taking some notes on a small pad and asking questions.

  Then, as the conversation started losing momentum, Roy signaled the bartender for another round. McCall began to try to “close” Roy, offering to send him a term sheet, have him over to the office for a tour, et cetera, but Roy dodged the offer by asking questions about the legal structure of the business and its capitalization table.

  “Okay,” he added, with an air of gravity, “so, obvious question: what about this Procurex litigation?”

  If McCall was taken aback by the direct question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled. “Bunch of bullshit, man. This guy, Frank—you know we were roommates, right?”

  “Yep, I read the lawsuit.”

  “Then you also read our Counterclaim?”

  Roy nodded.

  In the Counterclaim, McCall and TrueData mirrored the same claims that were being levied against them. McCall added that it was he who’d come up with the idea for the company, he who’d written all the code, and that Frank Stern was the one who was trying to steal it from him.

  “The whole thing’s just a ridiculous pissing match,” McCall said dismissively before taking another swig from his glass, swallowing and adding, “I came up with the idea, and I’ve got the code to prove it. Date-stamped. I was building this thing back at the apartment while Frank and Joe were out chasing pussy. And we all know how it ended for Joe... I finally got sick of carrying the whole project and cutting them in when they weren’t doin’ jack. Frank was supposed to be the marketing and fundraising guy, and Joe was supposed to be our ‘in’ with the government, greasing the skids to get us our first contracts.

  “I don’t know how much you know about government contracts, but Texas is almost like its own little country. If you can land the state or some of the bigger municipalities, it opens doors all across the country. So, the plan was for me to build it, Frank to raise the money to grow it, and Joe to get us the contracts.

  “Well, Joe went and fucked it all up. Kind of hard to focus on building your startup when you’re on trial for rape, you know?” There was bitterness in McCall’s tone. “Six months into that mess, I told them both I was done. There’s no way Frank could raise any cash with all that hanging over us—understandably—and Joe was... well, he was busy. So, we cut ties. All nice and legal. All above board. I bought out their shares—a bit cheap, I’ll admit, but fair and square.

  “That’s when I came out here. You know, implement the same plan, but this time with a focus on the West Coast. And it worked. We landed a few contracts, things were starting to turn around and then, the next thing I know, Joe gets off the hook and they’re both suing me for stealing the
ir idea.” He shook his head and took another sip from his glass. Cheeks glowing red. “Like I said, total bullshit. They’re looking for a payoff. They can’t build the company because they don’t have the skills, so they’re trying to rip me off. Total and utter dick move.”

  “But won’t the litigation cost you a lot of time and money?” Roy asked casually, as he signaled the bartender for another round.

  “If they could afford to pursue it, yeah. But their lawyer doesn’t even do this type of litigation. He defends insurance companies. He’s a friend of Dad’s—Joe’s dad, I mean. They work together. The old fart is way out of his depth, and he’s used to working for money—hourly fees and all that. He’s doing this case on a contingency.

  “How long do you think they’ll fight before the time and expense starts to cramp their friendship? We’re just going to delay and delay and delay, run up their costs, and give them nothing. You know the game. And we actually have legit claims against them.”

  Roy had seen this before. It was an ill-conceived game of chicken. The only winners would be the lawyers. He’d actually been one of those lawyers early on in his career, so he knew how it worked and how it would likely play out.

  “You mentioned the rape thing,” he said, steering the conversation to his main area of interest. “What about all that? I mean, you were his roommate when it happened, right?”

  McCall shifted in his chair and then drank slowly from his glass. Roy noticed a change in his demeanor and moved to salvage the conversation. The last thing he needed was for the guy to clam up. “I’m just curious,” he said, projecting his best business face. “It was all over the news,” he added with a shrug. “Man, I went to UT.”

  “Bad shit. I mean, the lawsuit’s bullshit. But I don’t want to go and say anything that could get me sued for slander or something like that, you know? Let’s just say that I’m living in Seattle now, and I’m happy to be here. The whole legal process down in Texas—the rape trial—I’m no lawyer, so I really can’t comment on it. Fuck. It is what it is, I guess.”

  “But you were roommates, right?” Roy prompted, aware that he was walking a very thin line. The alcohol he’d been encouraging the guy to swallow could go two ways: loosening his tongue or making him paranoid. He was reminded of his conversation with David. “I mean, I assume at some point you were friends, right?”

  “Yeah. All three of us were roommates, you know. And friends for a while. Then, you get to know people, and maybe you move on. I mean, I’m trying to build something new here. That’s why I moved.”

  Fuck.

  They were engaged in a conversational ballet—Roy recognized it, though he wasn’t sure if his dance partner did. McCall was trying to bring the conversation back to TrueData, while Roy gently pushed him to open up about Harlan. Maybe that was too obvious? Roy tried another line of attack.

  “Did you know the girl? What was her name… um, Kristy, right?”

  “Yeah, Kristy.” McCall paused. “I knew her. She’s a real sweet kid. Witty. Good sense of humor. We hung out a few times. A bunch of us I mean. Group of guys and girls. That was some fucked up situation if you ask me.”

  “What do you think actually happened?” Roy asked, trying not to seem too interested as he asked the question.

  McCall paused, scowled and then forced a smile. “Um, this is all kind of getting off topic. Really doesn’t have anything to do with—”

  Roy cut him off, sensing that he’d pushed too hard. He tried to backpedal—make it seem like idle conversation. Perhaps if he made as though he was ready to go, McCall would open up to keep him talking? “Sorry,” he said, rubbing a fictitious ache at the back of his neck. “It’s just been a long day talking business. Morbid curiosity, I guess. Read about it all online.” Roy chuckled, “And I’ve still gotta catch the red-eye back.” He straightened, stretching his back.

  McCall’s keen eyes observed him for an uncomfortably long time before he turned from him and stared at something back behind the bar. Roy thought he’d lost the guy and was contemplating getting the check, then heard him say, “You don’t really think you’re ever gonna be so close to something like that, you know? I mean, you hear about these things, date rape and roofies and all that, but it’s always strangers, people you don’t know. But this,” McCall paused, “... this really hit close to home, you know? For me. I mean, you think you know a guy pretty well and then…” he trailed off there and it was all Roy could do not to lean over the counter so that he could look into the young man’s eyes, but then McCall turned to him, eyes full of sadness, glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, and asked, “This is just between us, right?”

  Roy gave him his best casual nod.

  “You know, I’ve seen Joe get pretty wasted. Him and Frank both. A lot. Like, blackout, where-are-my-pants, I’ll-never-do-tequila-shots-again wasted. And, you know, when Joe drinks, he gets that kind of good ole boy ‘let’s get some pussy’ kind of thing going. Says a lot of stupid shit. Does a lot of stupid shit.

  “Frank really brings out the worst in him. I mean, Joe’s situation with his dad is kinda sad, but Frank comes from a real fucked up family. When the whole thing was going down against Joe, I expected any day for them to rope Frank in. Never happened. I was surprised.”

  “Rope him in, how?”

  “Man,” said McCall, pausing as if considering whether to share more. “Let’s just say that Frank was really into the whole pharma scene. I mean, Joe on his own is just a horny little fucker. But Frank was the one bringing drugs into the mix. Now, I don’t know anything about the whole Kristy thing firsthand, but I heard more than a couple of people say Frank snuck her the drugs. Whether Joe knew about it or not, I can’t say for a fact.

  “Could he have known? Yeah, he could have. Do I think he did? Between you, me, and the lamppost—yeah, I do. Hell, Joe would fuck the lamppost if he could make a hole in it. But, did he rape her, knowing she’d been drugged? No fucking idea, man.”

  McCall drank from his glass. Roy was grateful for the interlude while he processed what he had just heard. Comfortable that he had gotten all he was going to get from McCall, he brought the conversation back to the investment. He told McCall that Cruise Capital was interested, and that he would circle up with his partners when he returned to Miami. Then, he paid the tab, shook the man’s hand, and promised to be in touch.

  Roy left the hotel and headed to a Target Mobile Store on 2nd Avenue that he’d identified in advance, just five blocks away. He paid cash for a prepaid mobile phone with 200 minutes on it. Then, he walked back to the hotel and called for an Uber to take him to the airport.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Roy’s flight from Seattle landed in Miami at just past 7:30 a.m. and he was home by 8:30. Susie had a cup of coffee and some toast waiting for him.

  “So, how did it go?” she asked.

  “Two take-aways, I think,” he said, sitting at the kitchen island with his coffee. “First, I think I’m about as sure as I can be, absent a confession, that Harlan did it, and he maybe even had an accomplice on the roofies. His roommate, Frank Stern.”

  “No way.”

  He shared with Susie what he’d learned from McCall.

  “So, it sounds like there’s very little doubt that Harlan did it,” Susie said.

  “I agree.”

  “What was the second take-away?” Susie asked.

  “Well, Harlan and Stern are suing McCall—their companies are suing each other, right? I think that gives us a good angle to get Harlan to Miami.”

  “Explain.”

  “I can make the case that it makes sense for Cruise Capital to invest in McCall’s company, but for the lawsuit. The lawsuit is in the way. The trick to solving that would be getting Harlan to abandon his buddy, Stern. Not that I would do it—the investment, I mean—but I think it gives us a good excuse to have Joe Harlan Jr. come to Miami a
nd visit with Cruise Capital.”

  “That sounds like a plan, but I think the less you’re connected with it, the better.”

  “Yep. I agree. I think I can sell it to David, though. Let him initiate it. It’s got to be believable in case anyone asks later. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  “Won’t that make him a suspect?”

  Roy thought about the question. “Possibly—I just need to make sure he has a solid alibi. That shouldn’t be an issue.” He raised his eyebrows. “Man, was he pissed about not making the trip with me,” he added, taking a sip from his cup.

  Susie stepped over to peck him on the lips. “I have every confidence that you can sell it, Mr. Cruise. And, if not, fuck him. It’s your company.”

  “That’s not the point, Suze. It’s about making it seem like it’s not all my idea, in case anyone ever looks into it.”

  “Agreed,” she replied. “Now, I’ve got to get to yoga. You working from home today?”

  “Yeah. With a shower and traffic, it’d be late by the time I got to the office. Might as well.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  In his study, he pulled the phone he’d purchased in Seattle out of his computer case and placed it in the safe.

  In my opinion, that phone and the meeting with McCall were the weak links in Roy’s plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  “So, how’d it go?” David asked as he situated himself at the conference table.

  Roy was entering the room juggling coffee, a bagel (in his mouth), a napkin, his laptop, a folder with notes from his Seattle trip, and a notepad and pen.

  “Interesting,” Roy replied after removing the bagel from his mouth and taking a bite. “The healthcare pitch was pretty lame. The chicks with the farm-to-market delivery business surprised me, though; very sharp, and cute... you’d have liked the brunette... but too early-stage, I think.

  “Then, there was the car seat company. Great product, but a very crowded space. I went to a local baby store, just to see—way too many competitors. Very hard to stand out. I think they’re all passes.