Eye for Eye

by J K Franko

  Joe took a swig from his beer and thought, Like a rock star.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  At one point, I asked Roy how he was able to make the shift from normal person to someone who would attempt to kill a complete stranger. After thinking for a bit, he explained that, while there were a lot of factors that led up to it, ultimately it was a decision that came to him.

  It wasn’t so much intellectual as it was visceral.

  He said, “It’s like waking up too early. You know. You wake up one morning before your alarm goes off. Maybe twenty minutes before. You know you’ve got time—you can stay in bed a while longer if you want. So you lie there, breathing, thinking about the day ahead of you. What you’ve got to get done.

  “Then... you just get up. It just happens. You don’t say to yourself, ‘Now I am going to get up,’ and then start moving. You just do it.

  “With Harlan, sure, I sat down and planned the whole thing. But then there was a moment, one instant when I thought, ‘Shit, I am really going to try to pull this off.’ I didn’t ‘think about deciding.’ I just knew.”

  He then went on to tell me exactly when that realization hit him.

  It happened on a beautiful day when he and his wife were out boating. Roy and Susie are familiar with all of the best spots in their area. And there are a lot of them. This is because most of the Florida coast is part of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway.

  Visualize, if you can, a long, thin ribbon of islands off the Atlantic coast of Florida. The water in between the mainland and that ribbon—a series of bays, lagoons, rivers, and canals—is part of the Intracoastal Waterway, a navigable shipping route that runs all the way from Boston, Massachusetts down to Key West.

  Down in Roy and Susie’s stomping grounds in southeast Florida, Miami Beach, Fisher Island, and Key Biscayne are a few of the barrier islands that comprise that long, thin ribbon. Most of the islands are connected to the mainland by bridges, though a few are accessible only by ferry.

  The water in this part of the Intracoastal is shallow—on average, only ten feet deep with a controlling depth of six feet. It’s a safe and popular area for recreational boating, with sandbars and beaches that can be enjoyed virtually year-round. Great for swimming, kite surfing, jet skiing, and so on.

  Ever since their morning outing together on the Yellowfin when Roy had explained his plan, they’d been taking the fishing boat out at least once a week. So much so that, by this point, Susie and Roy had turned Miami Gold—the boater’s tan.

  No matter how much sunscreen you wear, being on a boat is like spending time on a mirror under the sun. The UV rays get through everything—even SPF 100—little by little. If you sunscreen religiously, that slow tanning results in a deep, all-over body tan that you really can’t get any other way.

  Miami Gold.

  They had just spent a lazy day anchored off Nixon Beach, one of their favorite spots on the Intracoastal, and were returning home. As Roy slowly brought the Yellowfin up against their home dock, Susie stood at the bow, waiting to hop to the platform and tie up.

  She was wearing a white bikini and had that Miami Gold tan. Her hair was in a ponytail and was sun-streaked from the time they’d been spending on the water. She looked back at him for a moment as they were about to bump the dock and smiled.

  Roy said it was that moment. That was when he knew.

  In a flash, he saw the Susie he had first seen back at UT. The golden tan, the ponytail, sun-streaked hair, and those jet-black eyes. Her little gemstone earrings were now two-carat diamond studs. But she still had the fine bones and hands; the thin, elegant fingers with short, polished nails.

  It was that same Susie. And the energy was there again. It was back.That positive energy that she used to radiate for him, for his benefit. He had missed it. Longed for it. After they had lost Camilla it was as if that warmth had been extinguished, and the world—his world—had turned dark and cold.

  Roy felt an overwhelming attraction to his wife in that moment, and he was filled with joy that Susie, albeit scarred from what they’d been through, was his again. As he looked at her, he could see bits of Camilla in her, too—the fine bones, the dark eyes.

  Roy isn’t the religious type. He’s been through too much pain to place any faith in a personal god—a god who actually knows your name and cares what you do every day. He does believe that there is an organizing force in the universe. He believes in energy—maybe even a common energy that all things share that can be tapped into and that can shape our lives.

  What first attracted him to Susie was that he could feel that energy flowing from her. And at that moment, on the boat, he said that he once again felt that energy flowing between him and her, and he felt Camilla in it, as well. But all of that, he told me, flowed from Susie.

  Susie was the source.

  Roy believes in optionality. That there is value in having choices. So, until a decision absolutely has to be made, there is no point in making one. You can choose a path and head in that direction, but until you reach the point of no return, there is always choice.

  This is how Roy approached planning the death of Joe Harlan Jr.

  Feasible? Yes.

  Plan it? Yes.

  Do it? We’ll see. He’d always thought that the final decision would be made when they had Harlan right there in front of them.

  That’s what he had thought until that moment on the boat.

  It was for Susie that he had planned it. She was all that he had left, and he could never lose her. Never.

  He knew then that he was going to go through with the plan.

  When I asked what his grandma would think of all this, of his master plan, of what he was “doing for his wife,” he paused. Then, in a serious tone, he recited a bible quote that she had taught him.

  Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.

  Roy then pursed his lips, looked at me and said, half-smiling, “Yeah, well... Fuck that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  “This whole thing seems a bit odd to me,” said Harlan Sr., sipping from his scotch.

  “Dad. You just don’t know anything about startups. Cruise Capital has done a lot of investing, and they’ve had some big wins. Why can’t you believe that they’re interested in me?”

  “It’s not that they’re not interested, Joe.They wouldn’t have called if they weren’t interested. But what they want—that I’m not so sure about.”

  “That’s why we’re having the meeting,” Joe said, rising from his seat to fetch a drink.

  The Harlans lived in West Lake Hills, overlooking the Colorado River. When Joe had transferred to UT, he’d practically begged his father to let him move out and live on his own. Not a day went by that Harlan Sr. didn’t regret the decision to let his son leave the nest, only to move in with a bunch of beer-swilling idiots.

  This meeting with Cruise Capital could lead to something positive. Harlan Sr. knew enough about how government worked to know that there was a genuine business opportunity here. And, he believed that he could help the boys land some solid government contracts, once they got the platform up and running.

  While Joe Junior came with baggage, he also came with the senator’s contacts and influence. It was conceivable that Cruise Capital might be willing to overlook one in exchange for the other.

  Joe returned with his beer and sat down across from his father out on the deck.

  “This first meeting is just to talk about the idea.”

  “Okay, Joe. Run me through what this guy David said one more time. Think hard and try not to leave out any details.”

  Joe sighed. “The guy called me up and said that he met last week with Frank. That he was impressed with the company and what we’ve done. That he’s familiar with the government sector. He said he’s really impre
ssed with our vision for the company. That they think there will be some big opportunities in the near future, and that they’re looking for someone who knows the space, understands the politics of it all—especially in Texas—and that they’d like to explore the possibility of me working with them.

  “I told him I already have a job. He said he understands, but that there’s jobs and then there’s building a future. He said if I am happy with what I’m doing, fine, but what can it hurt to talk? So, I told him I would talk to Frank about it, and he said that he’d prefer if I didn’t, ‘cause Frank might not like the idea. That this would be something I would do instead of working with Procurex.

  “Then he said they’d fly me down, put me up at a hotel. If I’m interested after the meeting, great. If not, no hard feelings. I told him to go ahead and set it up.”

  “You think,” asked Harlan Sr., “it might be a good idea for me to talk to him?”

  “Come on, Dad!” Joe fumed. “I’m twenty-four years old. I’m not a kid anymore! Besides, I’m telling you everything he’s telling me. What’s the harm? I’m not going to say ‘yes’ without talking to you first. Frank is cool with it. And don’t get me wrong, Procurex has potential, but the lawsuit’s only gonna get us so far. We still need a company. We’re way behind Marty.

  “These guys have a ton of cash. They could either buy us the people to catch up, or maybe they want to build their own and compete with Marty. Or maybe they want to buy one of the companies—Procurex or TrueData? I don’t know. What I do know is that I have nothing to lose from taking a trip to Miami and hearing them out. You always say it costs nothing to listen.”

  Harlan Sr. regarded his son for several seconds before acquiescing. Besides, what could he do, really? Joe was free, white, and (over) twenty-one.

  “When do you leave?” he asked.

  “I fly out Wednesday, meet with David Thursday, and come back early Friday morning.”

  “Alright, then. Sounds good.” Harlan hesitated, unsure how to express himself with his willful son. He eventually managed, “You know, I am proud of you. Of what you’re trying to build. With your career and everything. Just be smart out there, and keep your nose clean, okay?”

  Joe nodded. “Will do, Dad.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Roy normally arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. every day. This Monday morning, he was in over half an hour earlier so that he could prepare for his first meeting of the day.

  “Morning, boss,” his assistant Eve said as they met in the hallway.

  “Good morning, Eve. How is everything?”

  “Just about set. J.C. is waiting in the conference room. I’m just checking on coffee.”

  “Great. Be sure to buzz me when David gets in.”

  J.C. Cohen was the attorney for Cruise Capital. Roy had begun working with him on a referral when he’d decided to move the company from Texas to Florida. Over time, J.C. had come to handle all legal matters at the company, from corporate to transactions and human resources, which was the subject of that morning’s meeting.

  Roy entered the conference room.

  “Good day, Roy.”

  They shook hands.

  “Good morning. All set?”

  “Yes, sir. All the paperwork is in order. Just need you to do a final review on a couple of terms.”

  They went through the documents, which were edged with yellow sticky tabs marking pages that needed final approval. They reviewed each tabbed page in meticulous detail to ensure that the final points that they had discussed had all been incorporated.

  As they got to the last one, the speakerphone on the table came to life. It was Eve.

  “Mr. Cruise. Mr. Kim has just arrived.”

  “Thanks, Eve. We’re almost there. Go ahead and send him in.”

  David opened the door. “Eve said I should come in?”

  “Yes. Grab a seat.” Roy gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the board room table.

  “Morning, J.C.,” David said, reaching across the table to shake the lawyer’s hand. He noticed that he was in full battle regalia: pinstriped blue suit, starched white shirt with French cuffs, red tie. Then he looked at Roy. “Okay. So, what’s this about?”

  “I’ll let J.C. explain,” Roy said, glancing at the lawyer seated next to him.

  J.C. fidgeted with his tie knot, put on his reading glasses, and carefully adjusted the papers in front of him so that all of their edges were perfectly aligned. Then, he picked up his pen and looked at the man across from him.

  “Mr. Kim. You were hired by Cruise Capital on May 23, 2014.”

  David frowned. He knew perfectly well when he’d started at Cruise Capital. He didn’t need it read out to him, but he nodded.

  “Since that time,” the lawyer continued, “you have held the position of junior partner. Your duties have included screening potential investment opportunities; preparation, collection, and review of due diligence documentation; production of due diligence reports; recommendations for investment decisions; and analysis of potential exit opportunities.”

  J.C. paused, peering over his glasses. If he was expecting a reaction from David, he didn’t get one. The man’s face was expressionless.

  When the lawyer maintained his gaze, David spoke. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement,” he said before breaking the stare-off and glancing at Roy, who at that moment appeared to be finding a peculiar interest in his thumbnail. “What the fuck, Roy?” he asked.

  J.C. cleared his throat and continued, “As you know, Cruise Capital has a very strict policy regarding hiring and retention. Hires are vetted very carefully. Performance expectations are high. And partnership decisions are generally made four years from initial hire date. It is an up-or-out policy.

  “If you recall…” the lawyer took the first document off the stack in front of him and slid it across the table, “your Employment Agreement, Article Seven, specifically spells out this policy. This same Article Seven also provides that either party may terminate the Employment Agreement with or without cause. Legally, this means that the Company—and by ‘Company’ I mean Cruise Capital—or you, as the Employee, may terminate your agreement at any time and for any reason. You understood this when you signed the agreement, correct?”

  David fought back the impulse to rage at the automaton. “Sure, J.C.,” he responded evenly, “I read the agreement. If you recall, you made a point of bringing this to my attention at the time. Jesus, can you please just get to the point?”

  The lawyer straightened his shoulders. “I really don’t see the need to take the Lord’s name—”

  “Really? You try sitting on the opposite side of this desk listening to you pontificate like a fucking legal messiah,” David seethed, eyes flashing with disdain.

  “Gentlemen, please,” Roy jumped in. “Mr. Kim’s right. Let’s put the legalese aside for a moment. And, as you both know, I prefer straight talking anyway. So, let me be blunt…”

  Roy reached over and pulled the remaining papers from in front of the lawyer, positioning them on the table in front him. He picked up the first one, glanced at it, and turned it toward his business colleague.

  “This is a Termination Agreement. It provides for the end of your employment with Cruise Capital, along the terms of what is outlined in your Employment Agreement. It has the usual non-compete language, confidentiality provisions, and so forth.”

  Roy placed the document in front of Kim who didn’t even glance at it. He’d locked eyes with Roy and wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking the stare.

  “Any questions?” Roy asked.

  David pushed the Termination Agreement to his right.

  “What’s behind door number two?” he asked, indicating the remaining sheet of paper with a quick upward jerk of his chin.

  Roy paused, then finally broke
eye contact to look down at the remaining sheet. He spread his fingers like spider’s legs over it, then placed his fingertips on it, turned it, and slid it toward David.

  David stopped it from sliding into his chest with the heel of his palm.

  “That,” Roy said, “is a Partnership Agreement with your name on it.”

  “You motherfucker!” David said.

  Roy laughed out loud. J.C. dropped his lawyerly pose. Then, as if on cue, the conference door behind David Kim burst open and the other five partners of Cruise Capital streamed in. Eve followed with a tray of champagne flutes while Greg—one of the partners—popped open a bottle of Pol Roger.

  Everybody took turns, alternately congratulating the new partner and making fun of his recent ordeal.

  Roy then asked for everyone’s attention. “So, I know that this little ritual may seem a bit sadistic, but there’s a point to it. As you all know, Greg Mendez was the second partner in the firm after me. And when Greg started, he didn’t know shit.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Roy taught me everything I know,” Greg responded sarcastically.

  “All kidding aside. When Greg and I first worked together, one of the core principles that we operated from was optionality. Any time we looked at an investment, there would come a decision point. A time where you had to fish or cut bait... ”

  “Shit or get off the pot!” Greg confirmed.

  “Or that,” Roy continued, “but we believed it was critical that the final investment decision, the commitment, be made based solely on the merit of each case. It’s too easy to get emotional, to let the effort you’ve put into a deal, the relationships you’ve built with the people, affect your final decision and force you to commit too early.

  “So, when the time came to offer Greg partnership, we discussed that. I didn’t put on the little show that I did today... of course, there was nobody here but us two. But we talked about the decision as a fork in the road—either commit one hundred percent to the firm and all that it stands for, or you walk away, no hard feelings. In fact, every partner in this room will tell you that they were offered the same choice—admittedly, each time with a little more dramatic flair.”