Cash Out

by Greg Bardsley

Duncan freezes, says, “It’s about Fitzroy.”

  Rod and I glance at each other.

  “What about him?”

  “Well, it’s what some people want to do to him.”

  “What? Hurt him?”

  Duncan looks away. “No, they want to— You know. They just want to humiliate him.” He huffs, shakes his head, looks away. “They want to expose some things.”

  “About Fitzroy? Or about the company?”

  He looks down at Baldy, who’s stopped shivering. “Well, Fitzroy and the company. They’re kind of the same thing. FlowBid is Fitzroy, and Fitzroy is FlowBid.”

  “What do they want to expose?”

  “I’m not quite sure.” He fidgets with his cuff link, looks up at me. “But I know they’re talking with you.”

  Rod says, “They want Danny’s help with something.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “But you’re concerned.”

  “Yes, well . . .” He looks at us, and his face sags a little. “We’ve invested heavily in FlowBid, and . . . well, we can’t afford anything to erupt these final two months. That’s all this was about.”

  “Erupt?”

  “With Fitzroy. You know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  Duncan shrugs. “Fitzroy’s behavior. You know, his extremes.”

  “Extremes? You mean, extreme business practices?”

  Duncan shakes his head. “All I’m saying is, if Fitzroy goes down, the market cap of FlowBid will plummet, and—well, a lot of people would lose a lot of money.”

  Rod rumbles. “Including Knowland, Hill, and Davis.”

  He nods yes. “Including hundreds of thousands of investors. Millions of investors.”

  “But especially you guys.”

  He closes his eyes, nods. “Yes, yes. Especially us.”

  Rod says, “So tell us about these guys.”

  Duncan puts out a hand. “Guys, I really don’t think it’s going to help—”

  “Larry and Danny.” Rod stares at Duncan. “Can you excuse us for a second? I think David here has just won Door Number Two.”

  I get up to leave.

  Larry says, “Then I get him.”

  Duncan snaps, “Okay, fine. They’re laid-off sys admins.”

  Rod lowers his head and yells in his face, his veins popping. “No shit, Maxine. We already knew that.”

  Duncan winces and braces for impact.

  “You know more about these guys. And you’re gonna tell us or we’ll do a round in the ‘cage’ here.”

  Duncan recoils, shuts his eyes.

  “NOW.”

  “All I know—” He chokes on his spit again. When he recovers, his voice cracks, like he’s seconds from crying. “All I know is, they were laid off four months ago.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Just four months before their own options would have vested for millions. Real nice move.”

  Duncan winces again. “It wasn’t personal. The board agreed that FlowBid needed to align the cost structure appropriately, due to market conditions.”

  “Market conditions?” I explode from my chair, stand over him. “Market conditions? The company’s never been more profitable. The stock’s never been higher. Our op-ex has stayed flat. And to lay off original employees—people who have been with the company since the beginning, people who built this company—just months before they can vest their share of the profits?”

  Duncan looks away, blinks.

  “For an even higher stock price?”

  Silence.

  “Because when those layoffs were announced, the stock price went up another thirteen percent, didn’t it?”

  “Guys, that has . . . I mean, that’s the way it . . .”

  “Big money.” Larry blows out a cloud, crackles. “I don’t like big money.”

  Rod says, “Okay, so what are the geeks doing, David?”

  “We just know they’re—” He sighs. “They’re trying to get evidence of Fitzroy’s being— I don’t know. Fitzroy doing things that would have negative material effect on FlowBid’s market cap. They want him to lose his fortune, but doing so would destroy everyone else’s investments.”

  Rod looks at me, returns to Duncan. “Who else at Knowland, Hill, and Davis knows about the geeks and what you’re trying to do here?”

  “No one. I swear. No one.”

  Rod thinks about it. “Good.”

  Duncan looks at me. “I don’t know what they have on you, what they’re threatening, but I can help.”

  Rod sneers. “Which is why you had your buddy here . . .” He taps Baldy with a Doc Marten. “. . . beat Danny up in a grocery store.”

  Duncan blinks hard. “All I know is, whatever those guys are offering you, whatever they’re threatening, I can handle it. Or I can double your take.”

  Silence.

  “I know you have options that will vest soon.” He looks at me, eyes hopeful. “If you work with me and drop the IT guys, I can double your take.”

  I stare at him, look away. God, I want to hit him.

  Rod says, “What’s happening in Tampa?”

  “I don’t know. Something, but I don’t know what.”

  Rod stands up. “But you know enough that you don’t want Danny joining Fitzroy there.”

  “We just know those guys are pretty wound up about Tampa. So it’s just a precau—”

  Rod says, “We’re done here. And I’m afraid you haven’t been as forthcoming as I’d like.”

  Duncan looks up at him. “No.”

  “Oh yes.” Rod looks down at him, twinkles. “Oh yes. You’ve won a prize.”

  Duncan whimpers. “No.”

  Larry whispers, voice delicate, “Yes.”

  “Yeah. And not only have you failed to meet my expectations tonight, I’m also worried about what you might do if we leave you here. I mean, you could get Danny here fired, just days before his options vest.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you could. And you probably would.”

  “No.” Duncan looks at me, eyes straining. “Never.”

  “You had no problem laying off those geeks. From what Danny tells me, as a partner of Knowland, Hill, and Davis, you sit on the FlowBid board of directors . . .”

  “Which means,” I add, “he approved those layoffs.”

  “Guys. No. Please. C’mon.”

  “So it’s obvious you’d do just about anything to preserve your absurd fortune, wouldn’t you?”

  “No. Guys.” He holds his breath, blows out hard. “No.”

  “The problem is, Danny here wants to cash out. He wants to get away from people like you.”

  Rod and Duncan look at each other.

  “And I can’t tell you how much I support that plan.” He looks at Duncan, disgust taking over his face. “His plan to get away from people like—”

  “Guys. Please.”

  “. . . a crock-pot of pus like you.”

  They look at each other.

  “And I’m not gonna let you get in the way, not during these last few days.”

  “No. Guys. Tell me how much you want.”

  “Dude.” I feel my temples throbbing. “I don’t want your dirty money. I just want to last two more days and get out.”

  Duncan straightens, throws an arm out. “Then that’s fine. That’s fine.”

  “But the geeks,” Rod says. “The geeks could ruin it for him if you and Tony here get in the way. You see, they’re asking for a favor, and it doesn’t seem like such a bad favor. Problem is, if he doesn’t grant that favor, or if you and Tony here get in the way, my best friend here is toast.”

  “But wait. I can—”

  “Which means, I’m afraid we need to hole you up. You know, pull you from society f
or a few days. Until those options vest and Danny can cash them out, get the funds into his account.”

  Larry stiffens, clicks, and produces a billowing cloud.

  Duncan cries. “No. Guys.”

  “And as I understand it, Motel Larry . . .”

  Larry clicks. His mouth is frozen open.

  “. . . has a vacancy.”

  Rod walks David Duncan upstairs so he can tell his nanny he’ll be gone for a few days, and ask her to tell his heavily medicated wife and their kids in the morning. Back downstairs, Duncan paces his office, hugging himself and staring at the enormous framed Dartmouth degree hanging on the wall.

  I’m using Larry’s pliers to untie Baldy.

  “Not even my cell phone?”

  Rod says, “There’s no time for that at Larry’s place. Consider it a gadget-free retreat.”

  Duncan glances at Larry, his upper lip pulled back in fear and loathing. He looks to Rod. “What about you? What if I stay with you?”

  Slowly, Rod shakes his head. “Sorry. I gotta get back to the gym. But if you’d like, Larry can bring you over tomorrow, for some sparring . . .” His eyes twinkle. “. . . in the cage.”

  Duncan sticks his lower lip out, looks at the floor. “Anything happens to me—like, I’m gone too long, or, you know . . . never come back?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, the police will have the video surveillance.”

  “Nice point, David. Larry, did you hear that?”

  Larry cocks his head, gazes into space. “Extraction.”

  “But, Larry.” Rod sounds like a stern father. “We do need to return David here in one piece. So, no disfigurement. You hear me?”

  Still gazing into space. “Extraction.”

  Duncan looks at his cell, thinking.

  “Yeah, I’ll hold all that stuff. Your wallet. Your cell. Your laptop. In fact, let’s go pack your suitcase, so no one starts thinking something bad has happened.”

  “But my wife. She’s sleeping in there.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll tiptoe.”

  I finish with the wire. Baldy moans, tries to stretch his legs.

  “Danny, I don’t trust Tony here. I mean, I know he’s kinda spent at this point, but I also know he can be an ornery pistol. Do me a favor and tie him up at the ankles and wrists with that wire. Have Larry help you.” He looks at Duncan. “David and I are gonna go pack up, as soon as he sends an e-mail to work saying he’ll be out a few days.”

  Larry darts around my car like a pilot inspecting his plane.

  Rod sounds amused. “God, he’s excited.”

  I nod. “He knows he’s scored the mother lode.”

  We stand there awhile.

  “Well,” I say, “the thing is, he’s made it very clear. Larry doesn’t like people following him.”

  We watch as Larry walks in tight circles and flattens his beard with his fingers.

  “And he hates big money.”

  Larry opens the driver-side door and takes a seat.

  Rod shoves his hands into his pockets, nods to the car. “And those guys bound and gagged in the trunk? They’re like the personification of big money.”

  “Big money,” I add, “that was literally following him.”

  We stand there a second, letting it all sink in.

  Which is when my eyelid twitches. Reality is setting in.

  “This is kidnapping, you know.”

  Rod scrunches his face. “That’s a matter of opinion. The video surveillance in the house would show him leaving his home with three reasonable men, and doing so under his own free will.”

  I offer a dry laugh. “And the footage showing a heavily restrained man curled up on the floor begging for mercy? That wouldn’t look like kidnapping to a cop?”

  Rod nods, bites his lip. “Hey, here in San Francisco, we’re tolerant of people’s extracurricular activities. I mean, if the man who is tied up is refusing to press charges—and we know he’d rather have his thumbs lopped off than have this whole thing go to the police—why should the law care?”

  I feel my throat tighten, my skin cool. This is all too much.

  “But what about the footage of Duncan walking to my car under his own free will—only to get sucker-punched, tied up, gagged, and shoved into a small car trunk with his friend, the so-called consenting participant?”

  “Role playing,” Rod offers with a big smile. “David Duncan has paid us to do some role playing. Hell, he wouldn’t disagree. He’d rather admit to role playing than come clean about this FlowBid shit.”

  I turn, scan the street for pedestrians. No one.

  “Hope you’re right.”

  “Danny, he’s in this for hundreds of millions of dollars. You think he cares about getting detained—”

  “Kidnapped.”

  “— whatever, for a couple days?”

  “Dude, I’m gonna shit my pants if we keep talking about this.”

  Rod steps away, looks back at me. “You said this was important, Danny. Life-changing for you and Kate.”

  I throw a hand out, let it fall to my side. Defeated. “Yeah, but . . . You know. All this?” I motion to the car trunk. “This is beyond. I mean . . .”

  “You said you needed to last a few more days so you can cash out.”

  I mumble, “I know.”

  “And live a better life.”

  I sigh, irritated. “Yes.”

  “And these assholes have gotten in the way. Singled you out.”

  I look away, shrug. “Yeah.”

  “So you’ve been forced to protect yourself and your family, without the cops. Otherwise, you’d lose a ton of money.” He studies me. “Money for which you’ve worked very hard the past two-plus years. No?”

  I gaze at the car trunk, nod.

  Rod eases closer. “Listen. If you’ve changed your mind, we can stop this and call the police right here, right now.”

  I look at him, roll my eyes.

  “See what they say about the kidnapping, the hit-and-run with Larry, the various instances of battery. See what FlowBid says about it all.”

  My stomach weakens. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

  He smiles down at me, puts a hand on my shoulder, and shakes me hard. “Just hang in there.” There’s amusement in his voice. “I’ll make sure Larry goes gentle on those guys. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  Rod looks at me, his face softening. “I’m doing this because I believe there’s something better for you, Danny. This start-up venture capital shit, it’s not you.”

  I nod, break the eye contact.

  “That Duncan guy in the trunk there? Dickheads like him are the reason you got into journalism back in college.” He studies me. “Exposing the risk they pose to the rest of us.”

  I look down. Fuck, he’s right. It hurts to hear it.

  “Remember that judge you nailed in that campaign-funding investigation?”

  Mumble, “Yeah.”

  “That was a public service, Danny. That was your passion.”

  “I know. I just—”

  Rod scrunches his face into disgust. “All these people with their fancy cars and IPOs and catered meetings and extravagant parties?” His eyes narrow. “That shit rots, and it rots fast.”

  I close my eyes, nod.

  He slides an arm around me. “And it’s not you. This is your chance to make a break for it, and I’m not gonna let those assholes get in the way.”

  I take a deep breath, let it out slowly.

  “Now . . .” He raises his shoulders, looks around. “. . . you think you have this secret-video thing doped out for tomorrow night?”

  I blow out a gust, and my stomach sinks. “Yep. It’s all packed.”

  “You think whatever it is you tape will cause the stock to pl
ummet or something?”

  “That’s the thing.” I look away, glance back at him. “I have no fucking idea.”

  He studies me.

  “And if it’s something I think will damage the share price . . . I mean,” I sigh hard. “I just can’t . . . Even if it means that I . . .”

  His face softens, and he nods.

  “I just can’t do that to all the FlowBid people. To all the investors—I mean, people—who’ve sunk their savings into this company.”

  Rod bites his lip a moment. “But what if Fitzroy is doing something awful? Breaking the law or something? What if you’re being asked to document something important that needs to be reported or disclosed? Something that could save even more people even more money down the road?”

  I look down and shake my head.

  “What do you do? Do the right thing, turn the tape over, and watch the stock sink?” He thinks about it, adds, “Turn all those lives upside down?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Or keep it to yourself? Let the geeks get you fired? Lose your fortune, but save the livelihoods of everyone else?”

  I close my eyes. “I don’t know, man. I’ll just have to. Dude, I just can’t think about that right now. I just— I mean, I just need to get through the next twenty-four hours, come up on the other side. Then, depending on what I get on tape, I’ll have to make a decision.”

  He shifts, looks into the shadows, nods.

  “I mean, there’s a chance they want me to tape something that won’t have any kind of material effect on the stock.”

  Rod smirks. “And that’s why one of FlowBid’s largest shareholders was trying to scare you into staying out of Tampa?” He looks out, laughs. “Yeah, right.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sure it could affect the share price. Okay?”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Yeah, I hear you. I can’t discuss it any more right now.”

  “Okay, and I’m just saying you should be prepared for the dilemma.”

  Larry taps the horn, calling for Rod.

  “Kate coming?”

  I nod. “We’re gonna get a bite, head back to your place.”

  Rod starts toward the car. “Good. Larry’s gonna drop me off at my place. I’ll make sure he understands my rules before I send him off.”

  “What about Baldy’s friends? The guys casing my house? Larry’s house?”