Loyal Be Jack

by Robert Tarrant

  “Unless they’re just plain stupid,” mumbled Gunny.

  “Stupid or not, they’ve got Katharine, and I need to find a way to meet their demands. Is there a bank here in town?”

  Gunny scoffed. “Not hardly. Couple of ATMs are the closest thing to a bank around here. Don’t think you can get fifty grand out of them. No, you’ll have to go to Gaylord. Several sizable banks in Gaylord.”

  “All right then. I’ll go to Gaylord. I’ll call Marge and have her start working on lining up the money on her end. I’ll pick a bank and find out how to have the money wired and converted into cash.”

  “Who’s Marge?” asked Gunny.

  “She’s my business manager at Cap’s Place. Damn sharp woman. She’ll know how to work whatever magic is required to make this happen.”

  Gunny asked, “What if you can’t pull this miracle off by 2:00 p.m.? What’s plan B?”

  I hesitated for a minute. I hadn’t really gotten to plan B yet. “When they call at 2:00 p.m., I’ll just tell them what I’ve accomplished so far and beg for more time. What else can I do?”

  “Sounds like the only available strategy. I would consider having lots of detail about the process to give them because otherwise it’ll probably sound like you’re stalling. That’ll make them suspect that the cops are involved. On TV the cops are always stalling for more time so they can find the kidnappers.”

  I nodded. “I think that’s the way it works in real life, too. Good point, though.” I stood and said, “I had better get going. I’ll call Marge on the drive down to Gaylord.”

  Gunny rose and extended his hand. “I’ll be here all day, Jack. It’s technically my day off, but I’ve got nowhere else to be, so I’ll be hanging around here all day. You call if there is anything I can do to help. Anything at all.” His eyes narrowed, and he locked me in his gaze. “Anything at all that I can do to help, you call. Understand?”

  I nodded, and we shook hands. “Thanks, Gunny. I appreciate it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As soon as I was southbound on Old U.S. 27 toward Gaylord, I called Marge. To my relief, she answered on the third ring. I must have been incomprehensible because after a couple of minutes, Marge interrupted me and said, “Jack, Jack, slow down. I can’t follow you. You’re not making sense. What in the world do you need fifty-thousand dollars for? And why cash; no one does business in cash these days.” She hesitated and then added, “At least no honest people.”

  Having just passed a small roadside park, I made a U-turn and pulled in. This conversation needed my full attention. I explained that Katharine had been kidnapped. I didn’t mention our attempted rescue mission because I felt it would only be a distraction. I told her about the call this morning and the 2:00 p.m. deadline. As I expected, Marge’s first response was that I should be contacting the police. I explained why I hadn’t at first and that I was afraid to at this point. By the time the police understood the situation and got fully engaged, the deadline would have come and gone. Marge pushed back a couple more times but finally accepted my decision.

  After I explained that I hoped she could arrange an advance against our line of credit, Marge shifted into her businesswoman persona. She started by explaining that with the present status of Cap’s Place, closed due to extensive hurricane damage, it might not be easy to access our line of credit. We talked about that problem for a few minutes and then Marge came up with the idea that she would visit the bank personally and tell them that we needed the money to start activities for rebuilding while we waited for the insurance settlement to come through. It wasn’t a strong argument, since the line of credit is based on the vitality of our business and we had no business at the moment, but she said she would make her most persuasive argument. Even though I knew it was a long shot, I also knew that Marge could be pretty persuasive.

  I told Marge that I was going to contact a bank in Gaylord and start making arrangements to receive the money on my end. Marge replied, “That opens another can of worms, Jack. I don’t know the specifics, but there are a whole host of banking regulations about large cash withdrawals. Regulations aimed at money laundering and stuff like that. I don’t think they can stop you from withdrawing your money, but they report it to the IRS and who knows how many other federal agencies.”

  I shot back. “I don’t care who they report it to. I’ll answer all the questions the feds can dream up after I have Katharine safely back.”

  Her tone became soothing. “I totally understand, Jack. I just want you to know the situation before you walk into the bank. Don’t be surprised if they cite a host of regulations and require that you sign a bunch of releases.”

  In a more moderate tone, I said, “Yeah, thanks, Marge. I know you’re right.” I recalled cases from my days in the prosecutor’s office that arose from situations exactly like I was embarking on.

  Her next issue did surprise me, though. “The other problem you have, Jack, is that banks don’t typically have that much cash on hand. Depending on the size of the bank, they may not even have fifty-thousand in total and certainly not in twenty-dollar bills. The banks keep the majority of their cash reserves in their Federal Reserve Bank. Large cash withdrawals need to be arranged well in advance so the cash can be moved back to the bank.” She paused and then added, “I don’t have any idea how much grief they’ll give you for wanting it in twenties, but my guess is plenty.”

  Reality was starting to sink in. There was no way in hell that I was going to come up with fifty-thousand dollars in twenty dollar bills by 2:00 p.m. I had known that I was climbing a mountain but had been determined to scale it to save Katharine. Now the clouds were starting to part, and I could see that the actual height of the mountain made that physically impossible. At least in the time allotted. Still, I had no choice but to climb as high as possible before 2:00 p.m. and pray that my good faith effort would earn me more time. It had to. Katharine’s life depended on it.

  We ended our call with Marge promising to do everything possible to arrange for the funds. She cautioned me to stay in an area with good cell coverage so she could reach me. I told her I had no plans to return to the lodge until I had Katharine with me. As I continued toward Gaylord, it occurred to me that if I spring my request for fifty-thousand dollars in twenties on a local banker, it might prompt him to contact the authorities, even without consideration of the banking regulations. A request like that would smack of some type of criminal enterprise. Marge was correct, honest people don’t do much cash business these days and certainly not of that scale. As I drove, I began formulating what I hoped would be a plausible story that might keep me from spending the remainder of the day answering some local cop’s questions.

  Once I reached Gaylord, I queried banks in the mapping app on my phone and drove the main streets to locate them. I decided that the National Bank of Northern Michigan looked like the largest. Believing that my chances of success in obtaining such a large amount of cash would be best at a larger bank, I found a parking space on the street. The bank building appeared to be only a few years old, but it was constructed to give the appearance of a stately stone and timber structure adhering to the Alpine Village theme of Gaylord.

  Entering the building, I found teller windows on one side and small cubicle offices on the other. The Alpine Village theme was even more predominant inside, with heavy wooden timbers spanning the large A-frame lobby and faux balconies jutting out a couple of feet from the high white stucco walls as if they were looking out on a street from the second story of a quaint home. The ornate balusters of the railings on the balconies were painted an intricate pattern of muted pastels. The lobby floor of large cobblestones continued the Alpine street scene feel. I almost expected to see the women dressed in embroidered peasant blouses and the men in lederhosen.

  I approached the young woman in the first teller window and found her dressed in a very conservative white blouse. So much for the Alpine theme. I told her I would like to speak to someone about a large cash withdraw
al. She asked how much, and when I told her the amount, she pursed her lips and said, “Yes, that would be a large withdrawal.” After hesitating and looking around the bank as if she was appraising the role of everyone in attendance, she said, “I believe it would be best if you spoke to Mr. Liddy. Please wait here a moment, and I will check to see if he is available.” I watched as she walked behind the other tellers to a closed door on the back wall of the lobby. She knocked, paused, and then entered. I looked around and saw a couple of other customers talking with a woman seated behind a desk in one of the cubicle offices but otherwise there seemed to be little activity.

  A minute later, the teller I had spoken to exited the office followed by a slight man with thinning gray hair and round rimless glasses. He wore the traditional banker uniform of a charcoal gray suit with a white shirt and a muted blue striped tie. The teller retraced her route back toward her window while the man exited a swinging gate in the railing that separated the lobby from the area in which his office was located. As he strode toward, me he held me in the steady gaze of his dark eyes. When he reached, me he extended his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Franklin Liddy, branch manager. I understand that you would like to make a sizable withdrawal from one of your accounts.”

  I shook his hand and replied, “Well, not exactly. I’m Jack Nolan, a business owner in Florida. What I would like to arrange is to have an electronic transfer made from my bank in Florida to your bank, Mr. Liddy. I would then withdraw the money in cash.” The quizzical smile he had worn when he first approached faded into a definitely defensive frown. I forged ahead. “You see, Mr. Liddy, I’m originally from Michigan and have spent a great deal of time here in northern Michigan over the years. I’ve always longed to own lakefront property in the area and now an opportunity has arisen. I was hoping that your bank could assist me in realizing my dream.”

  “Do you have accounts with us?”

  “No.” In hopes of triggering the bankers’ business interest in him, I added, “At least not at the moment. I would expect I will, moving forward.”

  His body language was not softening in the least as he said, “Let’s continue this discussion in my office, Mr. Nolan.” He gestured toward the door he had emerged from. Probably he didn’t want me making a scene in public when he told me, “No way in hell, buddy.” I followed him across the lobby, through the swinging gate, and into his office. The office wasn’t large, approximately ten foot by ten foot, but it was tastefully furnished with an executive desk and a credenza of cherry wood. Mr. Liddy took his seat behind the desk, and I settled into one of the two chairs facing it.

  I wanted to appear as forthright as possible in hopes of assuaging the natural suspicions that would no doubt arise from my request. I said, “You see, Mr. Liddy, I have returned to Michigan to assist in handling the affairs of my recently deceased father-in-law.” A slight exaggeration, but I was only getting warmed up. “I unexpectedly stumbled across an opportunity to purchase a piece of lakefront property. Unfortunately, the seller is rather eccentric. He has provided me a very limited opportunity to complete the purchase, and he has made acceptance of my offer contingent on my paying in cash.” I spread my arms to emphasize the next sentence of my yarn. “To further complicate matters, he requires that the cash be entirely in twenty-dollar bills.” I forged ahead in hopes of providing justification for this request before Liddy’s natural resistance could solidify. “This old guy is one of those folks who doesn’t trust government or many of the institutions of our modern society. That’s why he wants cash and in such a small denomination. He says it is his Armageddon fund.”

  Before I could continue, Liddy interrupted. “How much cash are we talking about, Mr. Nolan?”

  “Fifty-thousand dollars.”

  Liddy physically recoiled into his chair as if I had slapped him. “Mr. Nolan, you have to understand that we don’t keep that much cash on site and certainly not in one denomination. I’m sorry, I’m not certain I can be of assistance to you.”

  I tried to act as casual as possible. “Oh, I certainly understand that, Mr. Liddy. Unfortunately, the window of opportunity the seller has given me closes at 2:00 p.m., and I know it’s impossible to complete this most eccentric request in that timeframe. I realize that you would need to make arrangements with the Federal Reserve to have that kind of cash transferred. I also realize that there are probably numerous reporting forms I would need to complete for the government. I know all of this will take time. What I’m hoping is that if I can show the seller that I’ve taken substantive steps to meet his request, he will allow me to close the sale tomorrow.” I endeavored to display my most pleading face. “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Liddy, I really need your help.” I took a long shot and added, “Benjamin Whitt always told me that if I ever found property up here, I should do my business with this bank.”

  He steepled his hands. “You are friends with Benjamin Whitt?”

  I lowered my eyes. “He was my father-in-law. He’s recently deceased.”

  “Oh, oh, I had no idea. My condolences, Mr. Nolan. I have always liked Mr. Whitt. He did considerable business with us when he was building his place up near Vanderbilt. Of course, his major banking was done in the Detroit area, but he said he liked to utilize local businesses, so he ran considerable business through us over the years.” He hesitated and then asked, “Are you handling Mr. Whitt’s estate?”

  “No, not the financial aspects. I am handling some requests he made of me personally just before he died.”

  My long shot had paid off. Mr. Liddy’s countenance softened noticeably. He took a notepad from his desk drawer and said, “So, let’s see if I have this correct? You propose to make a wire transfer to our bank and utilize that to withdraw fifty-thousand dollars in cash? Specifically, in twenty-dollar bills? Does that sum it up?”

  “Yes, sir. You have it. I know this is an extraordinary request, but it is very important to me, and I really appreciate your help. Benjamin was correct, you are a get it done kind of guy.” I was really laying it on now.

  Withdrawing a form from his desk drawer, Liddy said, “You will need to complete this form, Mr. Nolan, opening an account into which the funds can be transferred. Before you leave, we will give you the account number and our routing numbers for the wire transfer. You are arranging the funds on the other end?”

  I sure as hell hope that Marge is. “Yes, my business manager is arranging them as we speak.”

  “Fine, you complete the form, and Marie, the young lady you spoke with earlier, will open your account and provide you the account and bank routing numbers to give your bank. I will make some phone calls and see how long it will take to arrange a transfer of the funds you are requesting.” With that, he rose and handed me the form.

  “I will stop back in around 1:00 p.m. to see what you’ve learned. Will that work for you? I need to be able to tell the seller something of substance at 2:00 p.m. if I have any hope of convincing him to extend the offer window.”

  Liddy glanced at the computer screen on one corner of his desk, probably looking at his calendar, and then replied, “Yes, 1:00 p.m. should be fine. Hopefully, I can get a commitment from the Fed by then. I will certainly do my best, Mr. Nolan.” We shook hands, and I left the office.

  Completing the application form for my new account only took a few minutes. I left the bank feeling that I might just be able to climb the mountain after all. If I could just convince the kidnappers to extend the deadline. Then I remembered something an undercover cop had told me once when he was talking about a drug deal he had completed in spite of considerable suspicion by the dealer. He said that once he showed the dealer the money, his suspicions took a backseat to his greed. What I needed to do was figure out a way to show the kidnappers the money at 2:00 p.m. even if I didn’t actually have it yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  After leaving the bank, I drove aimlessly through Gaylord. As I passed the Sugar Bowl Restaurant, I decided to stop and have a bite to eat. I wasn’t
really hungry, it had only been a couple of hours since I had breakfast with Gunny, but it would distract me and pass the time until I returned to see Mr. Liddy. Katharine and I had eaten at the Sugar Bowl a couple of times when we were going to or from the lodge. I walked in and found a seat at the far end of the horseshoe-shaped bar. There were several dining areas, but I didn’t feel like sitting amongst the tables of people as the lunch crowd built.

  I had barely settled onto the stool when the bartender said hello and asked what I would like to drink as he laid a menu in front of me. I glanced longingly at the array of beer taps before ordering a diet Coke. No beer with lunch today. As I perused the menu, I glanced around the bar. It looked familiar but somehow different. When the bartender put down my drink, I asked if they had remodeled. He replied, “Sure did. Just over a year ago.” Waving his hand toward the dining rooms, he said, “Lots of changes in the dining rooms, but we got a refresh in here as well.”

  The wood paneling and cut glass prevalent throughout gave the place a venerable classy vibe. I commented, “Looks nice.”

  “Yeah, the new owners wanted to update but retain the character of the place.”

  “You have new owners?”

  “Couple years now. After ninety-seven years in the same family, the old gal was sold.” His comment rung with a tone of fondness for the place.

  “You worked here long?”

  “Me. Since I was sixteen and started bussing tables.”

  I estimated his age in the mid-forties. I said, “Wow, you’ve probably seen some change over the years?”

  He seemed to reflect on my comment. Finally, he said, “Yes and no. Even with the new owners, the remodeling, and the new menu, much of the past has remained. They remodeled but retained our previous look. Even the new menu has retained many of the original dishes prepared from the original recipes.” He paused in reflection again. “Yeah, lots has changed and lots hasn’t. Still working the kinks out of the new operation.” I couldn’t help but wonder how many kinks we would have in the operation at Cap’s Place when we reopened. If we reopened.