“Abe is thinking about throwing in with me on the new mine,” Sam told her on cue. “He’s the Murray behind Murray Malls of America.”
Layla was barely able to bridle her enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful news and it’s just what you’ve been looking for, isn’t it, Peter? A working partner?”
“Let’s leave the word working out of it,” Murray said with a laugh. “I pay lawyers to do that. I’m merely here to enable my new partner’s entrée into the retail jewelry marketplace and count my return on investment. We’ll situate Peter’s new shops in premiere locations, near the Saks and Bloomingdales stores.”
“Speaking of numbers,” Sam began, “we’ll have to schedule time to go over projections, Abe. I’m offering stock in very small slivers. Reputation is all a man has in this world and the mining business—even with the most bullish geological reports—is still a crapshoot. One of my main interests will be to limit your downside risk.”
Rachel gave him an imperceptible tug on the arm. “I’m famished, Peter. Would you mind if we had dinner now and you talked business later?”
“By all means,” Murray said. “Don’t keep this ravishing beauty waiting. Ring me when you’re ready to chat, Peter. I’ll put you in touch with my people.”
“He was easy,” Rachel said as they headed toward the dining room. “What about the other guy?”
“You mean Ming the Merciless?”
She frowned. “I guess I asked a silly question.”
“Indeed you did, Ms. Riggs. It’ll take more than a tight dress and a pretty face to woo the emperor of Planet Mongo…you may have to show more cleavage.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a Wonder Bra in my bag. I’ll show him cleavage for miles.”
Nine
“What did you think of the food?” Sam asked as he pushed away his dessert half uneaten.
“I’ve had worse.” Rachel pulled out her compact and reapplied her lipstick. “What did you think of it?”
“Expensive. A hundred and fifty dollars for a shaving of truffles? Seriously? I’m glad Peter Keys is paying for this meal and not me.”
“Truffles are up, darling,” she said, affecting a pompous tone. “It was especially hot in the Italian truffle regions this summer. Supply is way down.”
“Is that the truth or are you just practicing upper crust bullshit?”
She picked up a teaspoon and sampled his flourless chocolate cake. “What do I gain by bullshitting you?” she asked with a chuckle. “You’re as poor as a church mouse.”
It was mostly true. They’d scored some recently, but in the low six figures. Not life-changing money, that was for sure, and they’d spent a lot of it setting up this score. Plus, their risk was only increasing. They’d only narrowly escaped one of Little Vincent’s goons that caught up to them in St. Louis, and some other hitter in Raleigh. They were hoping they’d be safe in the Big Apple’s chaotic environment but knew it was just a matter of time before trouble found them again. New York was just too close to Philadelphia.
“We won’t be broke for long,” Sam said. “I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“Don’t be so enthusiastic. Emperor Ming was a no-show tonight.”
“Bumping into Murray was pure luck, though,” Sam countered. “I didn’t arrange to meet Ming tonight, but he was chomping at the bit when I left him this afternoon. The conqueror of planets wants in on this badly. You’ll see. He wet his beak on the Canadian diamond find and now he’s addicted to the rush of diamond mining. Anyway, we need a little more time to fine-tune our business plan. Neither Murray nor Cullen Atwater is going to buy the Brooklyn Bridge—our numbers need to be spot on and our reference sources verifiable and beyond question. Their people will see through a flimsy scam in a heartbeat.”
“You trust our new numbers guy?”
“I miss working with Finch, but a hard working Irish Catholic like Joseph O’Rourke…?”
“Neither his work ethic nor his religion mean that he’s good at what he does.”
“He’s got a strong pedigree to back it up,” Sam assured her. “He used to work in forensic accounting for the FBI before he realized how shittily he was getting paid. You can only ferret out so many millions in hidden loot before you realize that at sixty-two thousand per year you’re doing something wrong. Besides, Porter vouched for him. O’Rourke will have an offering plan ready for us by the end of the week. You and I will scrutinize it to death over the weekend, then set a date with our would-be investors.”
“If you say so. Personally, I like using people I have experience with.” She didn’t add that working with them had the additional danger of getting caught in the crossfire if the Philly mob found them again. Instead, she took another bite of the chocolate cake. “Hey, how much of this do you think I can eat before my ass looks fat in this dress?”
“Eat all you want, babe.” He shot her a sly smile. “I’ve got a feeling you’ll work it off when we get back to the hotel.”
Ten
“This is an impressive package.” Sam tossed the offering plan onto the coffee table, then looked up at Joseph O’Rourke.
O’Rourke sported a confident expression on face. “I’m glad you like it,” he said in a Boston Southie accent as he reached for a finger sandwich and swallowed it in one bite. “I’m not used to sandwiches with the crust cut off. Seems like a big waste of money. I didn’t grow up in a home with many luxuries. My brothers and I ate what was put in front of us or we didn’t eat.”
“The rich don’t eat crust,” Sam said.
“They say that Trump chows down on McDonalds all the time.”
Sam shook his head. “He doesn’t eat the buns. I think he’s hooked on the barf burger and secret sauce.”
Rachel wore an oversized sweater and jeans. She sat cross-legged on the couch next to Sam.
“And you, Rachel?” O’Rourke asked. “Any questions on the prospectus?”
Rachel puffed out her lips. “Looks bulletproof at first blush. Sam and I will go through it line by line in the next couple days. I would be more comfortable if I knew who your resources are: the geological consultants, mining industry experts, and the like. Don’t get me wrong but we’re kind of working in the blind here.”
“No problem,” O’Rourke said as he reached into his backpack. “Appendix A—here’s the background on every resource I used. You can spend the weekend googling them. I’ve got a backup list of experts I can tap into if you come across anyone you’re not happy with. Every specialist I used has an impeccable reputation and a substantial history.”
“We don’t want it to look absolutely perfect,” Sam said. “We’ve got to throw salt into the document with a few items they can kick back to us.”
“That’s figured in. They’ll spot the weak links I buried, but when they research them, they’ll see that they hold up.”
“And you’re ready for the Q and A?” Rachel asked. “You’ll be up against corporate attorneys out of the best law schools in the country. They’ll come at you blockbusters if for no other reason but to prove how sharp they are.”
O’Rourke stood and slung his backpack over his shoulders. “I’m not worried. When I worked at the Bureau I used to eat lawyers for breakfast. Fancy pedigrees don’t mean shit to me.”
“Oh yeah? What does?” Rachel asked.
“Just one thing—the million you’re paying me if we land this whale.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Sam said.
“You do that,” O’Rourke said and walked out the door. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
Eleven
It was the following Monday morning when the phone rang at 9:00 a.m. sharp. “So there’s a bit of a new wrinkle,” Sam said after terminating the call. “Ming and Murray want to enter the agreement as a single entity instead of buying in as two individual shareholders. They’re establishing a limited partnership with one lawyer to represent each of them and evaluate the deal and decide whether or not t
o green light it.”
Rachel was nibbling on toast and held a mug of coffee in her other hand. “I don’t like that. The two lawyers are strangers to each other and each will be trying to out do the other. I can hear them boasting to their clients now. ‘I was the smart one. I found all the bugaboos. Your friend’s attorney did nothing. He has shit for brains.’”
“I’ll handle them,” O’Rourke said.
“That’s one hell of an ego you’ve got there,” Rachel said.
“A million bucks worth,” O’Rourke said. “With that kind of money on the line…Just take a deep breath—both of you. We’ll rehearse. We’ll devise an intricate manner of signaling to each other. We’ll get the job done. Once we get them into the conference room the heavy lifting is all over. Trust me—I’ve been there before. No one’s ever lost money on a Joseph O’Rourke deal. When are we scheduled to sit down anyway?”
“Wednesday afternoon, provided Murray and Atwater can set up their limited partnership in time,” Sam said.
Rachel beamed a smile at Sam. Shares in a diamond mind that didn’t yet exist—she had to hand it to him, he’d come up with one hell of a clever ploy. They’d be asking for a ten-million-dollar investment, half to be paid in good faith, up front and the balance after a physical inspection of the proposed site had been completed. Of course, phase two would never come to pass. O’Rourke and his million would be in the wind, and they would head for parts unknown with new identities and a cool four million in their pockets.
It was a simple slice of dry toast and yet Rachel looked at it wondering just how long they could live off Peter Keys’ money. Their meals at the club, and the hotel room was charged to the credit card the hotel had on file—she knew it was only a matter of time before Alton Wrent grew wise to what was going on. All it would take is a call from the credit card company alerting Wrent that the cardholder was making charges in New York City and Abu Dhabi or wherever at the same time—game over. The intricately planned swindle would go down the drain and the two of them with it. “This is taking too long,” she said in a disgruntled tone.
“You’re kidding, right?” O’Rourke asked. “They’ve only had the offering plan for a week. This deal is sailing by smoother than a Zamboni over ice. What’s your problem?”
Sam and Rachel shared the same mind and he was harboring the same worries she was. They had already been operating as Peter Keys more than two weeks, wheeling and dealing under his name, spending his money. They’d surpassed twenty thousand dollars in expenditures. It was a small number for a man like Keys, but not so small as to pass across Wrent’s desk unnoticed. “We’ve got a lot of time and money tied up in this sting, Joe. Rachel’s worried about getting made before the transaction is complete.”
“Four mill should make you feel whole again,” O’Rourke said as he threw on his jacket. “Those two attorneys won’t be coming to the table in their best Sears casualwear. There’s a custom tailor down the block. I’m going to need to look the part of a diamond mine CFO.”
“What’s a good New York City bespoke suit go for these days?” Rachel asked.
“Twelve, maybe fourteen hundred. Don’t worry,” O’Rourke said. “You can take it out of my end.”
Twelve
It was mid-morning at the club. Cullen Atwater and Abraham Murray sat around a coffee table sipping Earl Gray and picking on French macaroons.
“Sorry it’s taking an extra day or two,” Murray said with half a bitten macaroon between his thumb and forefinger. “I hear we’ll be ready to sit down by Friday. If all goes as we hope, we’ll initiate the wire transfer before end of business.”
Sam pretended to be pleased but in the forefront of his mind he knew that a late Friday transfer of funds wouldn’t hit their offshore account until Monday morning, allowing additional time their scheme to be blow to pieces.
Atwater toasted the partnership with his tea before turning to Murray. “Let’s hope Abe’s attorney isn’t a clunker.”
“My attorney,” Murray scoffed. “What about yours?”
“Cal Renfro is top notch. You’ve met him,” Atwater said
“Why, he took his degree at Duke,” Murray pooh-poohed.
“And what’s wrong with Duke?” Atwater asked.
“What’s wrong? Why that assembly line diploma mill isn’t even in the top ten—law school speaking.”
Atwater chuckled. “Well, then I do hope your Yaley won’t feel put out having to work side by side with my nincompoop of a lawyer.”
“It is what it is,” Murray said. “It’ll give your man the opportunity to go to school on a Yale man.”
“Are the two of you sure you’re cut out to be partners?” Sam asked.
“Cut out for it?” Atwater said. “Can’t you see? We’re positively thriving on it. Abe hasn’t been this interesting in years. This deal is the equivalent of a Vitamin B injection. It’s energized our relationship.”
Cocaine, Adderall—Sam quickly thought of any number of substances that had replaced Vitamin B as the modern day stimulant of choice, but then again it made him realized just how old these two dinosaurs were. With his large belly and stubby arms, Murray somewhat reminded him of a T-Rex. Atwater, with his severe widow’s peak not only looked like Ming the Merciless, but with the current lighting also looked like a cross between Bella Lugosi and Christopher Lee. He could feel his cheekbones rise. “Well then, Cullen, I’m glad you came up with the idea of throwing in together.”
“It wasn’t my idea, Peter.”
Sam turned to Murray. “Abe, it was yours?”
“No such luck, dear boy.”
“One of the attorneys, then.” Sam tried to make light of the situation. “Was it the Yale man or the slacker from Duke? Who was the wunderkind who came up with idea of this fabulous union?”
Atwater placed his teacup on the saucer. “It was Mike.”
“Mike?” Sam searched his memory for the name of any club members he’d met with that name. “Do I know this…Mike?”
“Indeed you do,” Murray said and pointed to the reception area. Michael Broadbend stood in his customary spot and beamed a shit-eating grin at Sam.
“The club manager?” he said in disbelief.
“Michael went to Wharton,” Atwater said. “Got his Economics degree there. We run all of our business ideas past him.”
“Yes, that young man has a sharp mind,” Murray said. “Graduated at the top of his class. Pity he had to settle for such a menial job. I’m confident he’ll rise to the top. He’s set himself up in the perfect place to make some very important connections.”
Yes, he did, Sam thought.
Thirteen
“Come with me,” Sam demanded in a hostile tone.
Broadbend had seen Sam marching across the lobby and quickly busied himself with paperwork. He spoke without lifting his eyes from his desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Keys,” he began in a gentile manner, “but I’m not at liberty to leave my post unless there’s someone available to relieve me.”
“Relieve this,” Sam said sotto voce. He was not prone to physical violence but he was angry and had long ago mastered a small but effective maneuver, one that was difficult for anyone to observe. He took Broadbend’s hand in a manner that looked as if they were shaking hands, but he surreptitiously applied a thumb lock, pushing Broadbend’s thumb backward, leaving him no choice but to acquiesce or have the thumb ripped from its socket. “Coming quietly?” he asked.
Broadbend winced, then nodded.
Checking to make sure they weren’t being watched, Sam hustled him into the coatroom and shut the door. “Listen to me, Michael, those two old cronies may value your opinion of our deal but I don’t. I don’t care which business school you went to or how sharp you’ve convinced them you are. So, from here on keep you big mouth shut.”
“May I assume, then, that you’re willing to pay for my silence?” he asked pointedly.
“What? Are you kidding me?” It was
a kneejerk reaction and poorly thought out. He’d come out, guns blazing, seething with anger as a rich man would after receiving an impertinence. He quickly realized his error. “Okay, Broadbend—if that’s your real name—what’s you game?”
Broadbend gave him a confident smirk. “You’re running a ten million dollar hustle on two very important club members. I should out you on general principles alone.”
“Don’t bullshit me—you went to Wharton like I went to Oxford.” He sized up Broadbend, his mind whirring through possibilities. “What happened? Did I get in the way of some paltry little shakedown scheme you were running?”
Broadbend’s perpetual smile melted, replaced by a stone cold stoic expression. “It’ll cost you five hundred K to find out.”
“Half a million?” Sam scoffed. “You’re out of your mind. For what?”
“First of all, you messed up my deal. There’s a code, and you know it.”
Sam shrugged. Broadbend had a point. “Your damage isn’t worth half a mill.”
“Maybe not,” Broadbend allowed. “But second of all, I know things you need to know about your pigeons.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Third,” Broadbend continued, ignoring his protest, “half a million is a small fraction of the total score you’ve got lined up. And four…I know you’re not Peter Keys.” He smiled thinly. “So, do you want to continue negotiating in the coat closet or do you want to meet somewhere else after I get off work?”
Sam knew the right play was to remain calm and meet with Broadbend later but with the deal clock ticking away in his ear, he made a judgment call. “Here and now. Spill it.”
“Okay, man, have it your way. First, you may look a little like Peter Keys but your signature is nothing like his. He may not have been here in a decade but the club’s record keeping is impeccable. I went back into the archives and found Key’s original membership application. Your signature and his are as different as night and day.”
The Whale Page 3