The Deal (26 page)

I laughed then took a swallow of my drink.

“Does that kind of wisdom come from your previous real estate life? Or the recent one that has you overleveraged, on the verge of losing your buildings and realizing those who once had confidence in you no longer do?”

“You’ve got some fucking attitude on you, kid.”

“You’re damn fucking right I do.”

“You better be careful. The game can be a tough one when you decide only to play by your own rules.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked, raising my voice.

“You know exactly what that means.”

“No,” I reacted, pissed, “I don’t.”

I stood up. We were now making a slight scene.

“You want to interrupt our evening and come up to us uninvited, you’d better be ready to answer me when I speak to you.”

“There are certain rules that—”

“Save your fucking breath, pal. You have some kind of nerve coming over here and speaking to me like I’m some kid. It’s an insult to me and it’s an insult to my father.”

Murdoch looked at my father. Pop put his hands up in the air and leaned back in his chair.

“You did come over to us, Lloyd. And I stopped fighting Jonah’s battles a long time ago.”

Murdoch was a bit embarrassed, but did a great job of keeping his cool.

“You blew it,” I continued. “And you’re angry because all you did was turn around for one second and a guy half your age came in and showed you the lesson of your professional life.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Let’s see, how many hours actually was it that the bank had been holding onto the Madisons? I imagine that’s the last time you leave something so precious to chance for even five minutes. Anyway, this all just happened. What, are you following me or something?”

I know a guy like Lloyd Murdoch probably dines at The Four Seasons once a week, but under the circumstances I couldn’t help feeling a bit strange about the coincidence. Even though there was no conceivable connection between this chance meeting and my other situations, I threw my eyes quickly around the room while keeping my head as still as possible.

“Your arrogance could get you in trouble, Jonah,” Murdoch said, smiling slightly. “You wouldn’t be the first young hotshot to get ahead of himself in this business.”

“Please, I’m on to your little game with Gallo. So you can take your unspoken rules and ethics and puke them up on someone else. When you look at me, you’d better see a broker willing to do anything within the confines of the law for his client. I’ve earned that. You let your eyes see anything else and—”

I sat back down as I continued.

“— well, I guess you already know what may happen.”

Murdoch, with the resilience of a seasoned player, brushed my words aside. He looked at my father.

“Stan.”

“Lloyd.” Pop responded.

Murdoch didn’t say another word to me then left.

My dad, amused, started eating again, though I could see his eyes looking me up and down.

“Don’t you think you should have finished the job?” Pop asked. “You know, maybe grabbed a knife off the table and given him your best Iago impersonation?”

Shakespeare reference. Othello. Act five, scene one, when Iago stabs Roderigo.

“He deserved it,” I snapped back.

I looked up from my plate. We turned to Cesara whose mouth was hanging open. Pop sliced one of his scallops in half. I looked around the room again.

After dinner, and a bit of the best Pear William soufflé known to man, I exited the restaurant and turned right. Once I got to the corner at Park Avenue, L was waiting for me at the bank of payphones. During dinner I had called him from The Four Seasons house line.

“What’s going on?” he asked, handing me the box of a new cell phone. I never looked him in the eye.

“Just walk away,” I said quietly.

I immediately threw my hand into the air to hail a cab, even though I was very close to home.

“Jonah, what are you talking about? What’s the deal?”

The evening traffic was thin. A taxi came rolling to a halt in front of me.

“I mean it, L. Walk away. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I jumped into the cab and gave the driver my address. When I looked out the window, L, stunned, still hadn’t moved. I mouthed “thank you” to him just as I took off.

I opened the Samsung cell phone box. First I pulled out a fresh vial of coke, since I was running low, followed by a black Smith and Wesson nine-millimeter pistol and an extra clip. It was small enough to fit into my suits’ inside jacket pockets, yet strong enough to keep someone off my ass if they got too close. Because L’s family is in a cash business he keeps a gun in his office, one in his home, one in his car, and one on his body. I’ve never been one to condone guns, but I’ve never been one to downplay their importance at the right times either. Unbelievably, my life had gotten to the point where having a piece on me simply seemed like the right thing. And, needless to say, L had one to spare.

Chapter 28

At 6:02 a.m. Thursday morning I opened the door to the rendezvous point, the bathroom in Grand Central. Pangaea-Man was waiting inside. He was standing in front of the sink farthest from the door, pretending to fix his hair in case someone unanticipated was to show up. Next to him were two large, black TUMI suitcases, standing upright.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Before he could utter a single word I turned around and started off. The door closed behind me. When I was about thirty feet away the bathroom door opened again. He was quickly following me, pulling both rolling suitcases behind him, one in each hand.

I led him outside. Once on the sidewalk I stopped so he could catch up to me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “We had a deal.”

At that second, a black Mercedes-Benz limousine pulled up beside us. I opened the back door.

“Get in.”

Pangaea-Man froze. He definitely hadn’t anticipated anything like this, which is exactly why it was happening. He glanced around nervously.

“What if I say ‘no’?”

I walked up close to him, and spoke so only he could hear me.

“Then I get in the car, drive away, and you never see me or the fucking egg again.”

Keeping my eyes locked on his I grabbed the handle of one of the bags. He grabbed the other. We both got in the car.

The black glass divider between us and the driver was up. I knocked on it three times, the signal for the driver to get moving.

“Where are we going?”

The truth of the matter was that we weren’t going anywhere. Mattheau was at the helm of the car. These days Pop wasn’t leaving the house before seven thirty I had instructed Mattheau to simply drive around until he received my second signal, and he willingly obliged, as usual, with no questions asked.

Pangaea-Man was sitting on the rear bench. I sat, facing him, on the bench situated under the driver-passenger divider. The two suitcases were awkwardly on the floor between us.

“Open one.”

“Let me see the egg,” he said.

“How about we stop the car and throw you and your fucking luggage to the curb.”

“I just need to make—”

“Look, let’s just cut the expected bullshit chatter,” I cut him off. “I have a busy day. Now I promise you when I’m satisfied you took care of your end, I’ll happily give you Danish Jubilee Egg so we can part ways. All right?”

Pangaea-Man clenched his teeth. He looked like he was ready to burst.

“You better not be fucking around with me, man. For your own sake.”

“I know, tough guy. I’m really fucking scared considering you’re so desperate you just jumped in a car with me.”

I thought about pulling the gun in order to freak him out and maybe get some information. But I decided against it. If necessary, there would be opportunity for such drastic action soon enough.

“Now open one!” I said, pointing to the bags.

He wrestled one of the bags onto the seat next to him. He unzipped it and lifted the top up. I stood up in a crouch and, eyeing him the whole way, leaned in for a look. It was filled with stacks of fifty and hundred dollar bills. They were all brand new. They looked as if they had never been touched by human hands. The sight of this much cash made me feel two different things. For starters, I had only seen numbers, whether in business or in my own personal accounts, as funds passed from one stop to another. I had never actually seen this much cash money that I could actually hold. The feeling was unbelievable. The smell was as unique as the situation. It was like all of a sudden this giant tidal wave of possibility, of potential instant gratification, came slamming down on top of me like I was a sixteen-year-old walking into my first strip club. The second observation I made was the one that brought me back to the moment, the fact that Pangaea-Man was able to come up with this much fresh cash so quickly. It was obvious that he was dealing with a money player.

Or was he? Could he be the money player?

Before I addressed him, a question shot from one end of my brain to the other. Why the paradox? Why was someone with so much cash running a plan so sloppy that I inadvertently got dragged in? I still had no idea how I fit in to all of it. But I knew unless that fact became clear on its own volition, for now it would have to wait.

“What the fuck is this?” I asked.

“I’m sorry?”

I fell back into my seat.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Those bills. Are you kidding me with those?”

He looked as if he had just taken a bite of a hamburger, and unbeknownst to him someone had replaced the meat with shit.

“What? They’re brand new.”

“Actually, Copernicus, I was referring to the denominations, not the age of the bills.”

He looked at the contents of the suitcase, as if he truly hoped staring would help him see what I was referring to.

“I have no use for hundreds.”

Pangaea-Man returned his eyes to me.

“Why not?”

“Because they are the most easily traceable, dickhead. I guess I should have told you that I’ll only take twenties and fifties. I just figured that any moron who had seen three cop movies in his life would have known this.”

I leaned forward, aggravated.

“Just how fucking small time are you?”

I was talking completely out of my ass. I went into this morning encounter with only one objective, to buy time. If the bags had been filled with twenties, I would have told him I needed fifties and hundreds.

He slammed the suitcase cover down.

“This is the cash, you pain in the ass. You said two million, I delivered two million.”

“Well I don’t accept it.”

“You what?”

“What don’t you understand? I don’t accept the payment. I’m not walking around with traceable bills because you have no idea what you are doing.”

I don’t believe this fucking guy, he must have said to himself, falling back into his seat. “Just because they’re hundreds doesn’t mean they’re traceable.”

“I don’t like this any more than you do. I want nothing more than to give you back what you claim is yours so we can all just go on with our lives. But I’m not going to do so in a manner that puts me in harm’s way. It’s as simple as that. Now, you can either fix the problem or you can say good-bye to the egg. Clear?”

Pangaea-Man watched the city race by through the deeply tinted glass. He gritted his teeth.

“What do you want me to do?”

I knocked on the divider five times, Mattheau’s signal to return to the spot where he had picked us up.

“Simple. Two million dollars in twenties and fifties, and I don’t give a fuck if you need six suitcases.”

“I don’t have the time for this, man. And frankly, neither do you!”

The latter part of this statement had me near terrified, but I
didn’t want to break stride.

“Then take your head out of your ass and focus.”

“You don’t find a man standing around with six huge suitcases at Grand Central Station suspicious?”

“That’s your problem,” I said. “Get creative.”

The limo pulled up along the same curb we had stepped in from. Pangaea-Man and his luggage got out.

“Tomorrow morning,” I said as he pulled the second bag from the backseat. “This sidewalk, same time. That gives you another twenty-four hours.”

“Don’t you think twenty-four hours is a little unreasonable?”

I switched seats, jumping to the rear bench he had just vacated.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Anyway, you just said yourself you’re under the gun. I figure the sooner the better for both of us.”

I pulled the door closed and we took off. I wasn’t yet sure about how I wanted to handle Danish Jubilee Egg, so I had bought the little more time I needed. On the one hand, I admit, I’m human. I loved the idea of that much tax-free, cold cash in my hand. Also this way I would be free and clear of the egg and all of the trouble associated with it. But accepting the money made me part of the whole thing on a criminal level, and at this point I still felt I hadn’t done anything wrong since I had no part in the actual taking of the antique, although the fingers would probably end up pointing at me.

The short answer for why I needed to buy more time was easy. Because of everything on my plate, I hadn’t yet figured out which option made more sense.

“You are a serious ass, James. You should be thanking me.”

“I should be thanking you? What should I be thanking you for? Going behind my back and making the board think you’d rather not deal with me?”

It was only six twenty-five. The floor was relatively quiet aside from the speakerphone shouting match going on in Perry’s office. I walked in and sat down at one of the chairs in front of Perry’s desk. She was standing, her body making gestures with the appropriate words as if Auerbach was standing right there in front of her.

“You should be thanking me for going to them as if I was doing so straightaway, bypassing you all together. Can you imagine how you’d feel if I had actually given you what you deserved and told them what you had done?”

“I never intended to be dishonest with you, Perry. You need to stop saying that.”