The Deal

by Adam Gittlin

  The light became irrelevant. I could swing around the Lincoln Town Car in front of me to either the right or left. I had two options. To go left meant squeezing between the boat with wheels and the BMW parallel parked next to it. To go right, even though there were no cars parked, left me exposed and kept him with a clear shot.

  I slammed the car into gear. Tires spinning, screeching, I tore left. The amount of space was less than I thought. I scraped both cars as I blasted through, filling the street with the loud, piercing sound of metal sliding unwillingly against more metal. The Beamer’s alarm went off. Once through, without hesitation, I barreled into the intersection with no safeguard other than my horn. Cars swerved, slammed on their brakes as I darted through. Still slouched, but driving aggressively, I went to make the left turn down Park. When I did I heard a third shot fired, then a fourth. Both hit the back of the car, neither finding the tires. About three blocks down I finally lifted myself up. With a final glance at the rearview mirror I took in a huge gulp of wind. As I did, I saw the unmarked SUV of one Detective Morante charging up the other side of Park Avenue. He never saw me.

  “Tell me—”

  It was a little after seven. I was on a pay phone downtown speaking with L.

  “Fucked up girl, man. Her mother getting killed completely washed her out. Her grades went plummeting and she went wild with drugs and alcohol. She became a total burnout and basically disappeared for a while. Probably some kind of rehab or institution. Anyway, she came from the wrong side of the Hampton tracks. She was a local who didn’t grow up with much. So once she resurfaced she was all about the high-rolling guys. Crashed a few parties, broke up a couple marriages, even got in trouble with the law…”

  “How the fuck do you know all of this?”

  “Played a little NYPD detective today, that’s how.”

  “No, seriously.”

  “I am being serious,” he responded, proud. “I called the East Hampton police station and pretended to be NYPD. Detective Robert Barone. I’ll probably get in mad trouble for this shit.”

  “Detective—”

  “Robert Barone.” he repeated.

  Ray’s brother on Everybody Loves Raymond.

  “I forgot to plan a name. It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

  I smiled. Nothing like a real friend.

  Chapter 52

  I stepped off the Tribeca sidewalk and into Acappella at eight ten p.m. I nodded hello to the Mediterranean coat-check girl, wishing for a moment I could have responded to the twinkle in her eye, then walked past the bar that sat just beyond the entryway. Tony, one of the owner’s sons, greeted me with the same enthusiasm he always did. As he spoke, I surveyed the dining room. My three partners were seated at a table for four at the far end.

  As I made my way toward them I couldn’t help noticing the alluring restaurant was buzzing just right. The crowd was eclectic. There were Wall Street suits and there were couples looking to have a romantic evening. The tables were full of people and dialogue. A small ocean of voices was rolling along not too loud for four colleagues to have a private conversation.

  As I wove through the tables, robust scents of Northern Italian fare from the finest ingredients filled my nose. Aromas of different meats and sauces laced with flavorful spices danced in midair. As my feet continued to guide me toward my fate, I was surprised at myself for noticing such simple pleasures.

  “Jonah, what’s the deal?” Jake asked as I approached.

  Finally, able to see my banged up face and unkempt hair, all three started to get out of their chairs.

  “Christ, Jonah!” Perry quipped. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

  I calmly motioned for them to sit back down.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Tell me, Jonah,” Jake said sternly. “I’m serious. I don’t care who it is. I’ll deal with them.”

  “Seriously, killer, I’m fine. It’s just a split lip. Looks much worse than it feels.”

  A black-tied waiter pulled out my chair. I thanked him, put my briefcase down, unbuttoned my jacket, and took my seat. My partners sat back down with me. The same waiter then placed my napkin in my lap. He offered me a drink, which I declined, and left us.

  “Why are we here?” continued Perry. “And why couldn’t we know the others would be?”

  “We’re concerned, Jonah,” Tommy said. “We appreciate that you’re dealing with a lot of pain, but we can’t function properly as a team—more important, we can’t help you as your friends—if we’re not all on the same page. Now we’ve given you respect and loyalty. We deserve the same in return.”

  I didn’t know where to start. I remained silent.

  “Well?” Perry went on, throwing her hands in the air.

  I took a sip of ice water.

  “I love you guys,” I started, “I consider you family. You need to remember that above all that I’m about to tell you. No matter how this ends up—”

  “All of what?” Perry asked.

  I looked at my watch. All the time in the world wouldn’t have been enough to tell them how sorry I was. As much as I wanted to unburden myself there simply wasn’t time. I had to stick to the relevant facts. There was too much at stake for all of us.

  “Fuck it,” I exhaled. “The Prevkos deal. It’s complete bullshit.”

  No one stirred.

  “Excuse me?” Tommy said.

  “It was a front.”

  “Come again?” he went on.

  “Every aspect of the deal was a lie. As a company they may have had discussions about entering the world of commercial real estate. This deal, New York City, now, was a façade Andreu created for his own agenda. Everything about this specific deal was, is, complete nonsense.”

  The three tossed around predictable glances.

  “Why?” asked Jake.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Shouldn’t we be allowed to determine that for ourselves?”

  “Let’s just say the deal was set up as a platform for moving cash, only not for buildings.”

  “Then for what?” asked Perry.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It might matter to me,” she shot back.

  Part of me just wanted to tell them each detail step by step. I knew the less they knew about, well, all of it, the less lying they’d eventually have to do. I owed them that.

  Suddenly I was famished. Not knowing when my next chance to eat might be, I popped a slice of hard salami, one of the delicious antipasti selections gracing the table, into my mouth.

  “Andreu Zhamovsky has decided to use his shareholders’ money to play a very dangerous game. One that includes my downfall. That’s as much as I’m going to tell you. That’s all you need to know.”

  They processed this for about three seconds.

  “What do you mean your downfall?” Perry went on.

  “It doesn’t matter, Per.”

  “If it doesn’t matter then—”

  “I can’t!” I snapped at her. “It serves no purpose. Knowing could get you guys fucking—”

  My emotions were getting away from me. I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word “killed,” but from the looks on their faces I didn’t need to.

  I changed directions.

  “I have something for you.”

  I reached down, opened my briefcase and took out the envelope I had gotten from L. Then I reached in, pulled out three smaller, sealed envelopes and passed them out according to the name written on each.

  “What’s this?” asked Jake.

  “Don’t open them. Just put them away and I’ll tell you.”

  They did as I said. I continued.

  “Each envelope contains an option. One that each of you needs to take a serious look at.”

  “What kind of option?”

  “You each have a passport in there. And a driver’s license, which is from Alaska bu
t it was the best I could do.”

  “Jonah,” Tommy started, “what are we missing here?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “I can’t tell you, Tommy.”

  I was busting. Since the first day I had worked for Tommy Wingate he had been my mentor. I longed for his guidance. It was too late and I cared too much to seek it now.

  “This isn’t right, Jonah.”

  Perry sounded frightened.

  “We’re scared shitless for you right now.”

  Her eyes were smoldering. It was killing me.

  “I’m telling you to trust me. The less you know the better. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you—any of you.”

  Point taken. I barreled forward.

  “Andreu Zhamovsky gave us power of attorney over all affairs concerning his real estate dealings in New York City. Correct?”

  “Correct.” Jake confirmed out loud for all three.

  “What he also gave us was power of attorney over Prevkos’s finances as they related to, and only to, his deal in New York. The deal, in fact, he never planned on making. Andreu granted us this authority thinking the only money he had to worry about was the up-front costs to get the deal going: due diligence fees, good faith payments, stuff like that. What he didn’t ever take into account was that I was in a prime position to work him over if I ever caught on to him. Which, as I just told you, I did.”

  “Jonah, what did you do?” Jake asked.

  I remained silent.

  “You didn’t!” Perry whispered.

  Still, I didn’t answer.

  “Jonah?” Tommy and Jake chimed in.

  “I had no choice.”

  “How much?” Jake pushed out, all expression and color having fallen from his face.

  I took a sip of my ice water. The next words needed to be unequivocal.

  “Nine-hundred and seventy million.”

  Silence.

  “And change.”

  Perry lifted her head.

  “How could you do something like this?”

  “It’s like I said. I had no choice.”

  “That’s the goddamn best you can do?” Perry scowled.

  I dropped a restrained fist on the table. Perry jumped back.

  “Andreu Zhamovsky tried to walk all over me. In three weeks he’s turned my entire fucking life on its head for things I had nothing to do with.”

  I reeled in my voice.

  “I didn’t take the money because it is money. I took it because it is his.”

  “Did he kill your father?” Perry went on, concern returning to her voice.

  “Yes. I mean, he didn’t pull the trigger, but, yes.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “I can’t get into that.”

  “Why was he—”

  “I don’t have the time! I wanted to tell you guys what was happening, but I couldn’t. Andreu finding out something was up with the deal would have endangered us all.”

  “Jonah, what are you saying?” asked Jake, taking his voice down to a whisper. “Is Andreu trying to kill you too?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “My God, Jonah,” Perry said as if in a trance, “what’s happening to you?”

  I looked into my glass of ice water.

  “I’m leaving the country.”

  My eyes drifted to Perry’s.

  “I’m not coming back.”

  “This is completely ludicrous!” Tommy said.

  “Trust me,” I went back at him, “it’s not.”

  Perry reached out and grabbed my hand.

  “There has to be a way to fix this, Jonah. Let us help you fix all this.”

  “There’s no quick fix, Per. Not this time.”

  “Why did you bring us the identification?” asked Tommy. “Because we’re fucked too?”

  “No. I mean—I hope not.”

  “Can’t the cash be traced to you?”

  “Theoretically, yes. But how hard that’s pursued will ultimately be decided by what matters more to Andreu Zhamovsky. His past or his future. And let’s just say I have a feeling I know which one he’s going to choose.”

  “Then why? Why the identification?”

  “Because I can’t be one hundred percent sure you’re not in danger. Besides, I wanted to give you guys something. I wanted to make it up to you.”

  “With fake federal documents?” quipped Perry, bemused. “Quite a gesture—”

  “It’s not fake anything,” I said. “It’s all United States Government authentic, and it’s more than just paper. It’s an option, a second chance should you need one. Or it’s a door to a whole new life if you choose for it to be.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I had Carolyn fill out Swiss Nation Partners Bank savings account applications that she overnighted from the post office, with no return address, to a long-time attorney friend of my father’s and mine in Geneva. Secure savings accounts within the borders of Switzerland need to be opened by a well-respected attorney if the institution isn’t familiar with the new client. It’s almost like a vouching thing. Anyway, in no more than forty-eight hours each of you will have a Swiss account worth millions in the name of the person on the identification in your envelope.”

  “Christ Jonah!” Perry snapped in a whispery scream. “Stolen cash!”

  “The cash isn’t stolen,” I calmly explained.

  “Of course it is. You just said—”

  “I know what I just said, Perry. I also had Carolyn open a Swiss savings account for Andreu Zhamovsky. I was able to supply my attorney over there with all of his vital information from the papers he gave to us. Don’t worry, his firm’s stolen cash, to the penny, will eventually be waiting patiently in the perfect embezzlement account with his name on it. Which should make for one interesting explanation.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Jonah. Then what—”

  I put my hand up and cut her off.

  “The cash is from me. A one hundred and fifty million dollar life insurance policy left by my father. I’m the sole beneficiary, and I’m sharing it equally with you guys. Thirty-seven and a half million each. This way, if you are forced to take off, you can do so quickly knowing money will never be an issue. You three have worked harder than anyone I’ve ever met for what you have. I threatened to fuck it all up. For that I’m so sorry.”

  A dish dropped in the kitchen. I was up before it settled.

  “This is outrageous,” sighed Jake.

  I shook off a few questioning eyes and returned to my seat.

  “The money’s completely legit,” I powered forward. “Swiss law prohibits the financial institution we, under false identities, will be banking with to divulge confidential client information without severe consequences. It’s simply against the law over there. Besides, the money will have come from me, its rightful beneficiary.”

  I looked at the time. Sitting still like this, out in the open, was gut twisting.

  “Jonah, you can’t just do this. You can’t just leave.”

  A nervous tear was forming in Perry’s eye. I leaned over and took her hand.

  “I have to go. I have to go right fucking now. I don’t know if I’m saying to you leave tonight and run with your son forever or if I’m saying know this money is there for when you need it. Just be as strong as I know you can be. You owe that to yourself. To your son.”

  “Jonah, you know it doesn’t just work like that.”

  “Maybe so, Per. Maybe so. But not because it can’t.”

  My heart, which had been tearing all day, was finally about to break in two. I stood. The time had come. A quarter came sliding across the table toward me.

  “You never know. One of these babies saved my ass.” Jake said.

  I smiled, snatched the tiny silver disk and tucked it away. Then I nodded in appreciation.

  “Thanks for letting me into your family.”

 
Outside, not ten feet from the restaurant, my past caught up with me as I turned up Hudson. Perry came running up behind me.

  “Jonah!”

  I turned around. Her feet stopped just before she reached me. She started to speak but couldn’t. Finally she leaned forward and kissed me. Not like partners. In a way I had only previously dreamed of.

  “I’m scared of never seeing you again.”

  “I’m scared too, Per. I’m so fucking scared.”

  She moved in close, putting her cheek against my chest.

  “I’m sorry we never—”

  She put her arms around me. I squeezed her back.

  “I know, Per.”

  Chapter 53

  At 5:50 a.m. the following morning, I was sitting on the twenty-eighth floor of a high-rent property on the East Side. I was alone and sitting on a couch. There were no lights on. It was somewhere between night and dawn. The sun had barely begun to supply enough light to help my eyes. The day hadn’t yet changed from black-and-white to color.

  I had only gotten a few shoddy hours of sleep in the cockpit of my tarp-covered roadster that was parked in a Tribeca garage. It didn’t matter. My senses were geared-up, organized. The couch underneath me was soft Italian leather, the artwork was straight out of Chelsea’s most important galleries, and the technology was state-of-the-art. As I sat there, thick, almost sticky smoke swirled all around, above me. The hard-hitting aroma in the room left a pleasant burn as it entered my nose. I could barely hear the city down below, though every couple of minutes I’d hear one of those large, metal sheets they use to temporarily fix streets go bouncing around from a truck.

  At 5:55 a.m. Lloyd Murdoch entered his office through the doorway to my left. He never saw me. He went walking right past me toward his desk. For a few seconds I was just a fly on a shadowy wall, until he stopped and took a sniff of the spicy air. He slowly turned around and for a few seconds said nothing, then: