by Jim Beegle
“You can turn around now,” he said. When Mark was facing him again, Hamilton indicated for Mark to sit down in one of the three remaining chairs. “Forgive me for that, but you have shown a remarkable talent for appearing to be one thing on the surface and something entirely different underneath. It was very clever of you to switch cars and slip our surveillance in Dallas. The guy we hired is pretty good at that kind of stuff. You cost him a bonus.” Mark did not reply but kept and eye on Hamilton as he moved to the other side of the room while he talked.
“Nice to know my talents didn’t go completely unnoticed. It still must have cost you a pretty penny to do all that so fast,” Mark commented, speaking to Hamilton for the first time.
Hamilton laughed sardonically. “Actually, Mark, you paid for your own surveillance.”
“What?” Mark asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Your little gift to prove the truth of your claims last week. Remember, the two million dollars in Panama? It came in very handy,” Hamilton told him in a good-natured tone of voice.
“I see. Great to know you put it to such good use.” Mark said sarcastically.
Hamilton chuckled. “Thank you.” He shifted his weight and moved the gun from his right to his left hand. “Now, unless you really have a burning desire to know something else, I suggest we get down to business.” He moved the gun back to his right hand and focused his gaze squarely on Mark. “How much money is your wife worth to you?”
“Excluding the two million, you have already stolen?” Mark asked, not cowered by Hamilton’s tone or his gun.
Hamilton’s eyes flared with anger but he did not speak until he had regained his composure. “Excluding the two million.”
Mark looked up at the ceiling and thought for a minute, “Over fifty million dollars. I can’t be more precise because I don’t know how much additional interest the money has accrued in the last forty-eight hours. In addition, I don’t yet know how much the different institutions charged for the transfers. But fifty million, give or take a fee or two.” When Mark got through speaking he could see Hamilton’s eyes light up with delight.
“Fifty million dollars,” Hamilton said to himself. “Fifty million dollars.” He relished the amount for a few moments before bringing himself back into the hotel room. “Now if you will be so kind as to give me the bank and the account numbers. Once we’ve verified that everything is as you claim it to be, you and your wife can get on with your lives.” Mark sat without moving.
Hamilton waited almost two full minutes for Mark to make some indication that he was complying with his instructions. Bu when he continued to just sit and stare at him, Hamilton pushed off the wall and cocked the pistol, pointing it at Amy’s head. “Now Mr. Vogel. I want the information NOW!”
“Put the gun down,” Mark said calmly.
“Give me the account numbers,” Hamilton responded through gritted teeth.
“For God’s sake Mark, don’t play around. Give him what he wants so we can get out of here,” Amy almost shouted at him.
“Not until he moves the gun,” Mark said. The two men looked at each other. Finally, Hamilton put his thumb between the hammer of the gun and the chambered round and released the trigger. He lowered the gun and backed away from the table. Mark said nothing but sat up slowly and, with wide movements that everyone could see, he reached into his pocket and removed a three-by-five index card. He took the pen from his pocket and wrote something on the card. When he was finished he laid the pen down and folded his hands in front of him.
“Amy, be a dear and bring me the card, would you?” Hamilton asked. Amy reached across the table and took the card, looking at it. She immediately looked back at Mark. He just nodded to her and moved his head in Hamilton’s direction. She hesitated for another instant before getting up and taking the card across the room.
Hamilton took the card and waited for Amy to retake her seat before he looked at it. When he glanced back up Mark could see the anger returning to his eyes.
“This only has the bank name on it. It will do me no good until I have the account number. What is the account number?”
Mark did not move his hands from the table but shifted his weight toward Hamilton. “There’s going to be a change in the arrangements before I give you the account number,” Mark told him in a calm and even voice.
“What? What are you talking about?” Hamilton was almost screaming now.
“You’re going to let Amy go first. When I am satisfied that she is safe, I’ll give you the rest of it. If she doesn’t go, you don’t get the number. This is not negotiable,” Mark said in a manner that he would have used in finalizing the deal for a new car.
“You seem to forget that I am holding this gun,” Hamilton said to Mark.
“And you seem to forget that I am the only man alive who knows how you can access fifty million dollars,” Mark countered. He did not let Hamilton think before he continued.
“Look, if you let Amy go you still have me. I’m here now; you don’t need her anymore. Let her go and I’ll tell you the rest of it. You can then verify the account and be on your way.”
He could see that he had caught Hamilton off guard, which is exactly how he’d hoped things would work out. He had to keep him off balance now. Not enough to make him panic but enough to persuade him to exchange Amy for the money so that she would be out of danger. Hamilton didn’t say anything, but leaned against the wall weighing the different options.
For Amy’s part, she just sat in the same place shifting her gaze between the two men, exactly like the last time all three of them were together. There was nothing she could do at this point. Hamilton had the gun, and Mark had what Hamilton wanted. She knew from experience that both men gave ground grudgingly.
“What do you have in mind?” Hamilton finally asked.
Mark let out a slow breath. “I‘ve chartered a plane and it’s waiting for Amy.” Mark slowly got up from his chair and moved to the bar.
“Once she’s on the plane, she calls us here. I have no idea where the plane is going, and neither does the pilot. The plane is big enough and has enough fuel to go anywhere on the Gulf Coast she wants. That way I know she’s on her way out of here. I also know that no one can guess where she’s going until she’s gone.
The pilot will file a flight plan once he’s airborne. It will be hours before she is on the ground. She’s not going to call the police because you have me. By the time anyone can cause you a problem, you’ll be long gone. That is, of course, under the assumption that you have a plan to leave Nassau?” Mark asked.
Hamilton didn’t say anything. But Mark could see he was turning the proposal over in his head, looking for flaws. Finally, he shook his head and spoke.
“No, I don’t have that kind of time to wait. I want to be gone before the day is over. The bank closes at four. I need time to move the money. She stays.” He said coming to a conclusion.
Mark took a deep breath. He had anticipated this argument. He was sure if he could smooth over this one objection, Hamilton would buy into this suggested resolution. Mark looked at his watch.
“It’s twenty minutes after twelve. The airport is less than thirty minutes away. If she leaves now, she’ll be airborne by one. You can have the money wired and be gone by three.”
He could see that Hamilton was doing the math in his head, trying to see if Mark left him with enough time. Mark decided to try to push him over the edge and onto his side.
“Hamilton, if you don’t let her go, I ain’t tellin’ you shit. All you’re going to have is two hostages and no money. No fifty million. No flight out of here. Nothing.” Hamilton moved closer to where he was standing when he finished speaking. For a brief moment, Mark was afraid he had overplayed his hand. But when he looked at the banker’s eyes, he knew Amy was home free.
“If you don’t do this exactly as you just described, and if I don’t have that account number by one o’clock, your wif
e is a widow. I still have a good deal of the two million left. It won’t get me as far as the fifty, but it will get me far enough.” He moved to a door on the west wall of the room and opened it, revealing a similar suite adjoining the one they currently occupied. Hamilton looked at his watch then at Amy and spoke to her.
“You have exactly two minutes to get your directions, get your stuff, and go.” He gestured to the room on the other side of the door he had just opened. “If you don’t call by one o’clock, he’s dead. Amy, you know me well enough to know I’ll do it too.”
Amy said nothing but just nodded. Mark moved quickly to kneel by her side. He took another card from his coat and the note the bellman had given him.
“Amy, there is a cab waiting for you downstairs. Go to the bell captain. Tell him you are Mr. Vogel’s wife. The cab driver already knows where to go but, just in case, here’s the name, phone number, and directions to the air charter company.
“As soon as you are on the plane, call here.” He took his pen out and wrote on the back of the card containing the charter information. “Once you are in the air, and not until then, you can tell the pilot where you want to go. Then when you land, find a hotel and call Sandy. Tell her where you are and the phone number. If you don’t hear from me by this time tomorrow, call this number.” He pointed to another name and number on the card. “This guy is a lawyer in Dallas. Tell him the whole story and he will know what to do. Can you remember all that?”
“I think so,” she said in a meek voice.
“You’re going to have to Amy; my life depends on it.” He stood up and, as he did, he half helped, half pulled his wife to her feet. He hugged her tightly and she returned the gesture. “I’m sorry for all this. I’ll make it right, I promise. Now, get going.”
Amy released him, looked into his face, but said nothing. She walked quickly into the other room and closed the door behind her.
Mark stood still for several minutes trying to hear the outer door to the other room open and close, signaling that Amy was gone. After a while, he decided that since he could hear nothing else from the other room, he was free to move. He returned to what he now considered his side of the table and reclaimed his seat. He looked at Hamilton, but said nothing.
Hamilton finally got tired of standing and moved to a loveseat along the same wall Amy had walked through a few moments ago. He sat down, but never took his eyes off Mark. The two men locked their gazes on each other. That lasted for almost a minute before Hamilton tired of the game and looked away. The battle won, Mark slowly reached into his coat and removed his pipe, tobacco pouch, and lighter.
“This is a ‘no smoking’ room.” Hamilton said as Mark packed his pipe with tobacco.
Mark did not reply until he had struck the lighter and applied the flame to the bowl of the pipe.
“Not anymore,” Mark declared through the smoke. He worked the pipe around until he was satisfied with the curl of smoke coming up from the bowl.
“You know, I really don’t care for that smell,” Hamilton retorted, shifting his weight on the loveseat.
Mark took the stem from his mouth and blew a large cloud of smoke in that direction.
“Hamilton, I would think for fifty million dollars you can put up with my vice for a few minutes, whether you like it or not.” Mark put the pipe back into his mouth. He said nothing more. He just sat smoking and watching Hunte.
Mark worked the pipe until the color of the smoke changed from gray to brown, indicating that the tobacco had been spent. He got up and walked to the sink behind the bar, tapping the spent fuel out of the pipe. Returning to the table, he picked up the pouch in order to repeat the process.
“God, if you do that again this whole place will be reeking,” Hamilton said, getting up from his seat but keeping the gun trained on Mark. He walked behind the table and opened the sliding-glass door that led out to the balcony. He stood there breathing in the outside air. As he turned back into the room and started to speak, the phone on the bar rang. Hamilton looked at Mark and waved the gun at the phone. Mark laid the pipe down and walked to the bar.
“Hello,” he said into the receiver.
“Mark, I’m on the plane,” he heard his wife say. Mark closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
“That’s great Amy.” He said, opening his eyes. “Decide where you want to go and tell the pilot once you’re in the air. When you get to there, call Sandy. With any luck at all, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you,” he told her.
He was not sure that she heard the last part; the line went dead immediately. He hung up the phone and turned to face Hamilton, who had moved back into the room.
“OK, she’s safe. I’ll give you the rest of it,” Mark told Hamilton. He picked up the card on which he had written the name of the Commonwealth International Bank several minutes earlier and quickly but clearly wrote the ten-digit account number below the bank name. He handed the card to Hamilton. “Your move,” he said.
Hamilton pulled a set of documents out of his coat pocket and handed them to Mark. “This is a partnership agreement and it authorizes me to exercise control, on our behalf of course, over the account. Including but, not limited to withdrawals, transfers, and deposits.” He laid the papers down. Mark signed them where Hamilton indicated without even bothering to read the documents.
“Mmm,” Hamilton said looking at the signed documents. “These are going to have to be notarized.” He was still holding both the gun and the card in his hand as he walked back toward the loveseat. Instead of sitting down he walked to the door that connected to the room Amy had left through and knocked three, slow solid raps on the closed door.
“Let me introduce you to my personal notary”. The door opened before the sound from the third knock had stopped echoing in the room. Mark looked away from Hamilton to the now open door to see his wife, Amy, standing there. She was smiling up at Hamilton.
Chapter Ten
Mark looked at his wife and said nothing for a moment. Finally, he turned and walked back to the table. He took the same seat he had taken when he first arrived in the room, took up his pipe and relit it without bothering to look at Amy. She walked fully into the room while her husband continued the process of lighting his pipe.
“You don’t seem too shocked to see me,” she said, sounding truly disappointed as she stopped halfway between the doorway to the other room and the table. Hamilton, who had been watching Mark’s reaction with detached amusement, began to laugh.
Mark blew smoke from his mouth and looked at his wife. “Shocked? No, I am not shocked, Amy. I’m not even surprised,” he told her, shaking his head. “Disappointed, maybe. But no, not shocked.” He replaced the pipe in his mouth. “Let’s just say the possibility had crossed my mind before now.” Mark shifted his weight in the chair. “I am, however, curious as to why.”
“Why?” She screamed at him as if she had been building to this explosion. “Why? Fifty million reasons why you damned fool. From the very beginning, Hamilton said I should try talking to you. Try to convince you that we could just keep the money. I told him it was a waste of time. I know you well enough to know you could never be reasonable about something like this. You have this need to think about everyone else but yourself and me.” She paused to catch her breath before launching another verbal salvo. “It’s just like the promotion with DECCO. You could’ve been in line to be CEO one day, but not you. No, you decide to live out this twisted, high-minded, dream of writing your bits of software code and changing the world. Well, Mark, the world is being changed all right, but only by the people who have the money. Money, you simple minded fool, gives the power it takes to do something instead of wishing you could.”
“Is that all you think there is to life, Amy? Money and power?” he asked her.
Amy walked to a point exactly across the table from where he sat, put both hands flat on the polished wood, and leaned toward him. “It’s not all I think there is,” she paused, her
eyes boring in on her husband, “but it’s all that matters.”
Up to this point, Hamilton had been watching and staying clear of the discussion. Finally, he spoke to Amy. “I hate to break up one of the Vogel family’s quality times together, but we really do have things to do Amy, and quickly.” Amy did not move but still leaned forward on her hands and continued to look at Mark.
Finally, in a move that seemed to Mark a sign of her dismissal of him, she looked up at Hamilton and stood to her full height. “You’re right. We need to get busy.” Hamilton put his arms around her and hugged. When he released her she walked back into the adjoining room, returning in a few seconds later with a small nylon bag like the ones people carry to the gym. She put the bag on the bar and turned back to Mark.
“We can do this easy or we can do this hard. I don’t want to hurt you or see you hurt but,” she nodded to Hamilton who was still holding the pistol, “we will if we have too.”
“Oh, you know me Amy. I always take the path of least resistance,” he said, trying not to mask the sarcasm in his voice.
She glared at him for a moment before speaking again. “Get up, take off your shirt and lie down on the bed, both hands above your head.”
Mark put down his pipe and slowly rose from the chair. He removed his jacket and was in the process of pulling off his shirt when he spoke from within the folds of clothing surrounding his head. “There are just a few things I’m still not clear on,” he said, popping his head out from under the white cotton polo shirt.
“And what are they?” Hamilton asked, walking to the bar.
“Well, first, why let me know that Amy was part of this?” He dropped his shirt on the foot of the bed. “Why not just let her get on the plane and go? I doubt it would’ve changed anything for me to go on thinking she wasn’t involved. Or,” he asked, looking directly at his wife, ” was this part of her arrangement with you? Making sure I knew she was part of this? A little bonus for Amy maybe?” Amy started across the room at him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Hamilton reached out and grabbed her arm before she could get very far.
