Spin Move

by David Lender

  Katie nodded, looking out the windshield again.

  “I’m having your dad play him.”

  Katie snapped her head around to look at him. “Rudiger, you can’t involve my father in something like this.”

  “Why not? He loves the idea.”

  “You talked to him about it?”

  “Yeah, I called him this morning before breakfast. I told him Ducasse had conned his little girl out of 30 million bucks and we have a plan to get it back.”

  Katie’s mouth opened.

  “At first he was dumbfounded, said he didn’t know you’d taken that kind of money out of our New York adventure—”

  “I never told him.”

  “—and then he was mad as hell at Ducasse, said to count him in.”

  Katie said, “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” She leaned over and kissed him, then pulled back. “You didn’t tell Daddy I took the $30 million from you, did you?”

  “You think I’d rat on you to your father?”

  She kissed him again. Rudiger put his arms around her and pulled that tight little body against his. It was happening, right here in the front seat of a Jeep in Morocco.

  Then it wasn’t.

  Rudiger heard the sound of an approaching car, then saw a Range Rover pull up, trailing dust. The Rover stopped and the driver got out. “That must be our guy, Mec. I can’t imagine who else would be out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Katie slid across to her seat and climbed out the passenger-side door just as Rudiger stepped out. A man who looked like a light-skinned Arab, close-trimmed beard, strode around from behind the Range Rover. He flashed a toothy smile. “You must be Mr. John Rudiger.” Katie walked around the front of the Jeep.

  “And you must be Ms. Katie.” They all shook hands. Mec said, “I am Elijah Jelloun. But everybody call me Mec.” He turned to look at the site. “Man, you got big nerve trying to sell somebody this place. Almost as much as me.” He laughed and showed that toothy smile again.

  Rudiger said, “Leave that part to me.”

  “Okay. You do your part, I do mine.”

  Rudiger said, “Katie is a lawyer. She can help you figure out all the permits we’ll need and the people you need to get to.”

  Mec pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to Katie. He said, “My list of permits we need. From my people in the government departments. I don’t think they missed nothin’. The more permits, the more they get paid.” Katie put the paper in her pocket.

  Mec said, “When do we start?”

  Rudiger said, “Probably next week, maybe the week after. We need to have some documents prepared, put in place some theatrics to make a good show. We’ll need two full days undisturbed on-site once we start. You have that covered?”

  “I got it. No police, no military. Nobody bother us.” Mec squinted at Rudiger. “What you mean theatrics?”

  “We’re gonna put on a little play. Make it look good for our mark, so he has no choice but to believe it’s all real.”

  He saw Katie shaking her head.

  “I have a friend in Hollywood who produces films. I spoke to him last night, then this morning again. He found me a friend in France who produces films for StudioCanal. His friend’s gonna pull together a crew for us, nothing too elaborate. Thirty or forty actors to play bankers, lawyers, a half dozen of them each, because they travel in packs. A CEO and CFO of our new company, a couple of engineers, construction foremen, you get the picture.”

  Mec was looking at Rudiger with wonderment in his eyes. “What can I be?” he said.

  “Mec, you’re Mec, our local guy who handles everything.”

  “I could play a banker, or a lawyer. You should see me in a suit.”

  “You have any uniforms, like for security guards or police?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “How about this: head of global security for John Rudiger Enterprises, Inc., on-site to keep order and make sure the workers don’t slack off?”

  “You kiddin? I’m on that like flyshit. With a uniform with epaulets.”

  “Right, and do you have any other guys who can be your lieutenants, with uniforms?”

  “Done and done.”

  Rudiger said, “We could use some extras, too.”

  “Extras?”

  “Yeah, you know, the groups of people who mill around in the background in a film, crowd scenes, things like that. We’ll need about 50 construction workers. It would be great if they spoke French, because we’ll have French actors playing the foremen telling them what to do. I can’t imagine that will be too expensive, will it?”

  “Leave it to me,” Mec said.

  “Here’s for your expenses,” Rudiger said, opened the door of the Jeep and reached into the side pocket for an envelope. He walked over and handed it to Mec. “As we agreed.”

  Mec nodded.

  Rudiger said, “Alright, I’ll be in touch. You know where to reach me if something comes up.”

  They all shook hands and Mec climbed into his Range Rover and drove off.

  Katie said, “You’re going all out. How much is all this going to cost?”

  “Maybe a million. You have to spend money to make money, and we’re talking about making $30 million, net of Mec’s cut.”

  “I hope your French producer hired a good director, somebody who can orchestrate this whole thing.”

  Rudiger said, “The producer’s got a screenwriter drafting a script right now. He tells me it’ll be just like shooting a scene from a movie. One day of dress rehearsal, the next day live. These guys are pros.”

  Katie sighed. “Yeah, but what about my father?”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s watching The Rockford Files right now, boning up on his moves.” Rudiger pulled out his iPhone and looked at it. “I haven’t heard from Ducasse since we left Geneva.”

  “You worried?”

  “A little. I expected him to jump all over the idea. We just have to operate under the assumption he’s going forward.”

  Rudiger and Katie flew back to Cape Verde that afternoon and spent the next three days preparing. He received emails from his contractors in India with attachments of the Private Placement Memorandum, the PowerPoint presentation, business plan and the engineering plans and blueprints. Katie worked on the legal documents: a purchase agreement, partnership agreement and various financing documents, all modeled on the publicly disclosed documents from the Houston deal.

  It was the best she’d felt in a long time. She was happy to be working on something, but more than that, she was content. Each morning she sat at her desk facing the ocean, typing on her laptop computer to create the legal documents, a photo of Mom and Daddy on the desk next to her. From there she watched Rudiger return to the house from his morning run along the beach. After he showered she’d make breakfast for all of them and they’d sit and laugh about the deal around the table on the deck. She hadn’t seen Daddy so animated since before Mom died. It was as if some benevolent spell had been cast on the household.

  After breakfast she’d go back upstairs to work at her desk. From there she’d watch Daddy and Rudiger take their walk on the beach, Rudiger throwing the ball and Styles chasing it. In the evenings they had cocktails together, then dinner. Katie remembered what Rudiger had said about Daddy and Styles almost making him feel he was part of a family. She felt that way about Rudiger now. She’d watch Daddy and him talking together about TV shows, movies or just horsing around, like a couple of old college buddies reminiscing.

  At dinner the first night they were talking about the deal and Daddy said to Rudiger, “Mec, that’s a funny nickname.”

  “It means ‘dude’ in French.”

  Daddy raised his eyebrows. “Dude. Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski.”

  Rudiger said, “I think the Dude’s still looking for that
rug of his.”

  They both laughed.

  Katie felt warm in her chest. My frat boys.

  That night she went upstairs before Rudiger and Daddy finished watching TV. She showered and went to bed, remembering Rudiger’s kiss in the Jeep earlier that day, the firmness of his hands on her as he pulled her body against his. She left her bedroom door partway open, watching and listening for him, ready to go to him. She fell asleep before he came upstairs, and she was awakened to Rudiger whispering her name, standing next to her bed. She held up the sheet and he slipped into bed beside her. She felt the magic of his hands on her body.

  Every night after that she waited to hear him come up. When he got out of the shower, she’d tiptoe from her bedroom to his.

  She didn’t want it to end.

  One morning later in the week she came downstairs to show Rudiger revised drafts of the documents. He was working on his iPad at the table on the deck. He looked up and smiled. “Hey, good-looking.”

  She sat down next to him and kissed him. He tasted like Earl Grey tea.

  Rudiger said, “Ducasse just called.”

  Katie felt a flutter of excitement.

  “He wants to move forward. I told him we had two other interested parties and that we’d proceed on the same track with everyone, first come, first served, because we only want one partner. I told him I’d get back to him with a date in a week to ten days for a presentation and site visit.”

  “That’s great. Although we’ll have to hustle to get ready by then.”

  “I don’t know. You look like you’re almost finished with all the legal documents. I spoke to the guys in France earlier. The script is finished and the cast has done three or four read-throughs together already. They start rehearsals tomorrow.”

  “Aren’t you even going to look at the script?”

  “I don’t need to. I sent them the Houston deal Private Placement Memorandum, PowerPoint and business plan. I made up my own Q-and-A for them and I’m working on the CEO and CFO bios right now.”

  “There are a lot of moving parts here. Not much time. I wish I was as confident as you are.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m confident. I just feel it in my bones that we’re going to pull this off.”

  Katie laughed. “I think that would be the definition of confident.”

  The next morning Katie got up with Rudiger for a run on the beach.

  “I thought you did off-road biking to stay in shape,” Rudiger said.

  “I mix it up.”

  They were about a half mile into it when Rudiger said, “Your dad told me you were a great runner in high school.”

  “Yes, I had a fabulous trainer, Mr. Cain. He took me from having some raw talent to a whole different level. Training with fartleks.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a Swedish term for combining high-intensity interval training with continuous training. Sprints for 50 to 100 yards, then gliding, then another 50 to 100 yards, and so on like that for two or three miles at a time. Then jogging a quarter mile around the track, then another two to three miles of fartleks, repeat until you throw up.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Tears at your lungs. Hurts like crazy, but it conditions you for the race.”

  “Your dad said you always ran from the front. This coach taught you that?”

  “No, I got that from the neighborhood, Cobble Hill in Brooklyn. When big brother Mike wasn’t around, I had to fend for myself. Outrunning the Johnson brothers, or Dennis Clark and Mike Slee from over on 8th Street. But Coach Cain taught me how to stay in front against great runners. The fartleks conditioned me to give a runner who was challenging me a 20- or 30-yard sprint, beat him back. Sometimes it took three or four sprints to break them, but I almost always did. There was a guy named Dick Stowe on my team who never gave up. I’d have to give him six or seven intervals during a race to finally beat him. One time in my junior year I was coming out of the final turn and he kicked past me on the straightaway into the finish, but after that I made sure he never stayed close enough to do that again.”

  “Remind me never to challenge you to a race.”

  Eight days later Rudiger rented them a private jet and he, she, Daddy—with his iGo—and Styles flew to Oujda, Morocco. Flora and her husband, Carlos, would house sit. Katie watched Daddy laughing and motioning with his hands over dinner at the Royal Hotel, clearly excited about playing his upcoming role, even though it wasn’t a big one. The next morning they rented a minivan with a pneumatic lift on the back that held an ATV for Daddy to drive around in the desert sand instead of using his wheelchair. They hired three bellmen at the hotel to go upstairs and play with Styles at the end of each of their shifts, and to feed and walk him.

  Katie could see the tops of the defunct refinery equipment appearing over the crest of the last hill as they drove to the site. She hoped to find it transformed, but felt a sag of disappointment in her chest as they approached. Two large tents had been erected in front of the site, and about a dozen people in suits milled around the entrance. She saw Mec standing erect, in a uniform, with epaulets no less, and ten other men in similar uniforms standing in a line for about 100 yards in front of the chain-link fence with their arms folded in front of them. But that was it.

  “Not bad for starters,” Rudiger said.

  He looked over at Katie, then stopped smiling. Her disappointment must’ve shown on her face.

  He said, “Relax. This is just the core team. Tomorrow you’ll see the whole show.”

  They stopped and got out, then got Daddy settled into his ATV. Mec walked over first.

  “How you like my security ensemble?”

  “Clothes make the man,” Rudiger said, “and you’re the man.”

  Rudiger headed toward the larger of the two tents with most of the people inside it. Katie started to follow him when Mec said, “Ms. Katie. I get everything on my list plus those you added. All the permits, even a clean title search. The whole kitchen sink.”

  Katie laughed and thanked him, then followed Rudiger into the tent. Two men, presumably those playing the CEO and CFO, were giving a presentation at a podium in the front of the tent, a PowerPoint projected on a screen behind them. About 20 other people were seated in rows of chairs, listening. One of the men in front was going on about the propane-to-propylene price spread. A man in the audience raised his hand and asked a question, and the other man giving the presentation fired back a response, then another question from a woman seated in the rows of chairs, and so on. Katie wasn’t wowed, but she had to admit it looked authentic.

  After a few minutes a man walked over to Rudiger. “John?”

  Rudiger said, “Yes. Michel?”

  “Yes.” They shook hands. Rudiger turned to Katie. “Michel Baptiste, this is Katie Dolan. Katie, Michel is our executive producer from StudioCanal, the man making it all happen.”

  Katie smiled.

  Rudiger said, “How do you think it’s going?”

  Michel said, “Fine, just fine. Dorian and Christophe are doing some ad-libbing with their answers, but this is good because it means they are comfortable with their lines, as well as the materials that you sent. I expect no issues unless there are questions not addressed by the materials.”

  Katie got some comfort from that.

  Michel said, “I told Mec I would feel more comfortable if our men playing the foremen of the work crews in the yard would have an opportunity to do at least one dry run with the extras. Mec has arranged that for tomorrow morning.”

  They stayed for two hours, seeing three full runs of the presentation and question-and-answer sessions.

  When they got back to the hotel, Rudiger waited until he and Katie returned to their room before saying, “You’re like a dark cloud. If you don’t snap out of it, you’re gonna bring about whatever it is you’re afraid of.”

&n
bsp; Katie felt her anger begin to stir. “I’m concerned, that’s all.”

  “More like worried.”

  “Well, somebody has to focus on the nuts and bolts, make sure we think of everything, because you only seem to be seeing the big picture.”

  “Do you call setting this whole thing up, pulling all the documents down off the web, arranging everything with the contractors in India to knock off most of the documents and all the engineering studies, finding and cutting a deal with Mec, even drafting the CEO and CFO biographies, only the big picture?”

  Katie sat down on the bed and sighed. “You’re right, but there are a thousand more details to get right, and if we screw just the wrong one up . . .”

  Rudiger sat down on the bed next to her.

  Katie said, “What if Ducasse isn’t as stupid as you think he is? What if he has really sharp lawyers—hell, just mediocre lawyers—and they do their own due diligence on our CEO and CFO and find out their bios are fabrications? Or they call the Paris office of the law firm we’re supposed to be using and on whose letterhead we’ve drafted phony legal opinions, and find out the partners our actors are portraying don’t exist? We’re busted.”

  Rudiger put his arm around her, kissed her and said, “I think we should just chalk this up to stage fright for your upcoming performance as Angela Conklin.”

  His kiss didn’t calm her.

  He said, “That’s a role you’ve performed beautifully. Just focus on that and let everybody else focus on their roles, and we’ll be fine.”

  Katie looked him in the eye, felt a twist of annoyance and said, “You’re taking this the wrong way. You think I’m crumbling with nerves. The more I think about that little eel Ducasse and his pompous old father, the madder I get and the more I want to do more than get the money back. I want to bring them down.”

  “So do I. It was my $30 million. Plus, I just found out I need it more than ever.”

  “Why?”

  “I was down to my last $4 million before I left Antigua.”

  “What? How?”

  “Tech stocks. Up 50% six months after you sent me the $10 million, then recently Apple took a dive, and my bet on the new BlackBerry Z10 smartphone fizzled. And today I just learned that my insurance company put a hold on paying the $12.3 million for my house burning down.”