Chasing the Wind (43 page)

Squaring her shoulders, she turned around. She'd accepted the risk when she'd bought the house on Kerlerec Street, and she knew that if given the choice again, she'd make the same one.

Walking to the corner of the conference table that was nearest the telephone, she picked up a copy of the wire transfer memorandum she'd prepared. Receipt of the investors' funds from Cayman as described in the memo would conclude the transaction, and that's when Robert would make his move. Amalise's stomach clutched at the thought.

Just then, Bingham Murdoch strolled in with Raymond, and they were laughing at something. Raymond had exchanged the D. B. Cooper shirt for a rumpled suit. Bingham swerved to the credenza, and Raymond joined Preston and Doug. Rebecca, holding a cup of coffee, drifted over to her. The two of them stood together while the last players arrived. Adam Grayson entered and headed for the coffee pot. Frank Earl came in, and Doug went to meet him. Counsel for Cayman Trust came in, hesitating at the doorway, briefcase in hand. The letter of credit was inside, she knew, ready for delivery the moment the documents were signed.

Then Robert entered, one arm slung over Richard Murray's shoulders, with Steve and Lars following, all four chuckling. Richard had come in on the red-eye. Amalise looked at Robert and lifted her chin, but Robert's gaze swept past her as he greeted Doug.

Raymond and Preston walked up. "Looks like we're ready," Preston said, standing beside her with his feet spread apart, hands clasped behind his back. She saw Robert glance at his watch and put his hand down on Bingham's shoulder, steering him toward the far end of the table. "Let's get this thing moving."

Power was subtly shifting from Bingham Murdoch to Robert Black, who would become the new chief operating officer of Lone Ranger, once the documents were signed. "The confirmation call with Cayman is set for nine o'clock," he announced. "After that, the wires will take a while, but we'll get to Arnaud's by midafternoon for the serious business."

Everyone laughed.

Frank Earl took his seat at the table, and Preston handed him a pen.

It was 7:30 in the morning on Wednesday. The closing had begun.

At 8:50 Amalise tapped Doug on
the arm and looked toward the telephone. The conference call with Murdoch's Cayman bank officer and the U.S. lending syndicate was scheduled to begin at 9:00. This was the call to resolve the chicken-and-egg problem. Cayman would confirm the investors' funds had arrived, the signal for the U.S. banks to fund.

Around the table clients were hunched over documents, applying their signatures, surrounded by lawyers handing them new ones each time they finished the ones before them.

Doug looked at Robert. "How's it going? The call's scheduled in ten minutes."

"We're ready." Robert looked at Bingham, and Bingham nodded. Robert leaned back in his chair. "The principal documents are executed. Only a few certificates left. Let's get them on the line."

Doug turned his head and looked at Amalise. She picked up the wire transfer memorandum and dialed Ashley Elizabeth's number. Amalise asked if everything was ready for the conference call to Cayman.

"Yes."

"Are the banks on the line?" The room went silent as eyes lifted to her.

"Yes, all accounted for. They're holding."

"Good." She was gratified to hear that her voice was steady. "Get Mr. Benjamin Salter, Banc Franck, on the line, please. His number's on the list. Call me back when he's connected."

"Will do."

Amalise clicked off the call and lounged back, gazing about, wanting to absorb each moment of this closing in case it was her last. "Looks like things are all set," she said to Raymond.

He heaved a sigh and stretched his neck, closing his eyes. "It seems like we've been working on this deal forever."

"Well, enjoy it because we'll all be bored until the next one comes along."

Raymond straightened in his chair and gave her a wry smile. With a glance at the credenza, he stood. "Want some coffee? Or a Tab?"

She shook her head. Her stomach fluttered as she waited for Ashley Elizabeth to call back. The process of transferring funds from the various banks in the syndicate, and then from Cayman at the last, was tied to the wire transfer memo she'd prepared. She looked down again at the memo, scanning it, praying that nothing had been forgotten. Praying that the investor funds were on deposit in the Cayman account as required.

The phone rang at 9:00 on the dot. She took the call on the receiver, listened, and then nodded. Banc Franck was on the line.

Doug stood and raised his hand. "Listen up, everyone. We're beginning the conference call. Banc Franck's on the line to confirm the investors' deposit." He looked at Bingham.

Bingham's expression was nonchalant.

Robert, beside him, caught Amalise's eyes as she pressed the button to place the call on the speaker, and she fought to veil the rush of fury he aroused in her.

Bingham said, "Will you do a roll call, Miss Catoir?"

Conscious of Robert's eyes, Amalise lifted the memo in hand and leaned slightly toward the speaker. Her heart fluttered. "Good morning, everyone. My name is Amalise Catoir, Mangen & Morris. We'll do a roll call first. When I call your bank's name, please let us know you're on the line."

As she read out the name of each lender on the list, each bank officer answered present. And at last: "Banc Franck."

Benjamin Salter's voice. "Present."

She let out a long breath, and Bingham stood. Long and lean, he seemed to pull himself up as he ran the flat of his hand down his starched white shirt.

"Bingham Murdoch here, Ben."

"Good morning, Mr. Murdoch."

Bingham swung his arm behind his back and rocked forward on his toes, smiling as he turned to the room. "It
is
a good morning here, Ben. As we arranged, I'm calling on behalf of Lone Ranger, Incorporated." He looked down at the first page of the wire memorandum. "I'm in the Mangen & Morris conference room in New Orleans, and we're presently closing the company financing." Folding his arms over his chest, he gazed down the table. "As you just heard, our bank lenders are on the phone with us. I believe you have the list?"

"Yes."

"With me is our new chief executive officer, Robert Black, as well as Tom Hannigan from Morgan Klemp, Frank Earl Blanton from First Merchant Bank, and others."

"That's fine."

"So." He clapped his hands together. "In accordance with prior instructions, please confirm for us the current balance, in currency, of available funds on deposit in the company's account. That is account number 13672."

Amalise heard paper rustling on a desk from the other end of the telephone.

Ben's voice again: "As per your instructions, account number 13672. The current available balance on account is U.S. $20,200,000.00."

"Confirmed." Bingham turned to Tom and raised his brows. Tom nodded.

Counsel for Cayman Trust who sat on the other side of Doug, snapped open his briefcase. Everyone watched as he pulled out the letter of credit and placed it on the table.

Bingham nodded. "The letter of credit is delivered," he announced into the phone. He looked at Tom, at Robert, at Doug, and at last, at Frank Earl, who would be speaking for the bank group. "So then, are conditions for each bank's funding satisfied at this point?"

Frank Earl glanced at Doug and then, placing both hands on the table, he half-rose from the chair and hunched toward the telephone. "This is Frank Earl Blanton, First Merchant Bank." He raised his voice. "Are there any questions from the banks?"

A voice on the line: "The documents are executed?"

"Yes."

Another: "Looks good to you, Frank Earl?"

"Yes. I believe the conditions for funding have been met." He paused. "Any objections?"

A chorus of no's responded.

Frank Earl backed into his seat. He spread his hands toward Bingham. "The bank group is ready to fund."

Doug leaned in the direction of the phone. "Doug Bastion here. Let's get those funds on the wires as soon as possible, everyone." He leaned back. Tapped his pencil on the edge of the table.

Bingham folded his arms and looked down at the speakerphone. "Thank you, Ben. That's all we need."

"You are welcome."

Bingham disconnected the call and looked around. "Congratulations, everyone. We're almost there."

Amalise looked at her watch. The call had taken ten minutes.

Chairs were shoved back, and people rose as Bingham threaded his way through them back toward Robert. Robert looked over at Amalise, and this time there was an almost imperceptible smile on his face.

She tossed her head and turned away. She wouldn't make things easy for him.

Frank Earl walked up. "Good job, Amalise." He held out his hand, and she shook it. He reached for the telephone, pulled it toward him, and dialed, turning his back to the room. Amalise waited while he spoke to someone in Merchant Bank's wire room, instructing them to call him in the conference room upon receipt of each bank's funding transfer.

"We're tight," he said. "Need to know the minute the last funds arrive, so we can get that Banc Franck wire in before the end of the day." He listened for a moment, said yes and then no, and hung up.

Raymond passed by, giving a whoop under his breath.

The hum of conversation in the room increased. She saw Bingham walking toward the door, hands in his pockets, and she longed to catch up with him, to make her case for the house on Kerlerec Street.

Bingham stopped when he reached Doug and slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm going back to the hotel," he said. "Call me when we're ready."

"Not staying for lunch?"

He shook his head. "Not today. Anyway, I just had breakfast. I'll take a nap and eat later on at the hotel, unless you call first."

Raymond arrived just then with Rebecca in tow. He looked at the two of them. "Check the documents on the table while we've got some down time. Make sure no signatures are missing." And so Bingham escaped, and Amalise began working her way down one side of the table, Rebecca the other, flipping pages to assure that all signatures were complete.

Doug sat back, winged his arms behind his head, and said, "Looks like we have a deal."

As Bingham strolled down the hallway, headed for the elevator, he inspected the pictures along the walls, looked into the familiar offices with open doors, the secretaries' desks. The sound of typewriters, telephones, copy machines grinding behind him, spitting out those endless piles of documents. He wouldn't miss this place.

He rode down the elevator, walked through the lobby, and crossed the street. At the Roosevelt Hotel, he saluted the bellman and went up to his suite. There he walked directly to the desk in the living room and dialed the hotel operator.

It was 9:20 in the morning. "Overseas operator, please."

"Yes, Mr. Murdoch."

He waited a few minutes, and when the international operator came on, he gave the number he was calling and the name. A minute passed, then two. He leaned back in the chair, feeling relaxed. At last she came back on the line.

"All circuits are busy, sir. I'll have to ring you back."

"Fine. That's fine." He had plenty to do while he waited.

A shaft of light slid through
the bedroom window, extending its reach inch by inch until it reached Jude, and he woke. The light was warm. And the small body curled against him was warm. He lifted his head and saw Luke. At once, everything came back—Amalise in the waiting room at Charity, Touro Infirmary, bringing Luke home.

He lay there, letting his mind adjust to a waking state, one arm still flung over Luke, the other over his head. He'd moved from the chair to the bed sometime during the night. Turning his head on the mattress—he'd left the pillow for Luke—he saw the boy was awake and watching him.

Jude moved his hand gently across Luke's back and smiled.

Luke gave him a cautious look.

"You don't know where you are, and you don't know who I am. But you remember last night, don't you?" He patted Luke's back, feeling the slight, sharp shoulder blades. "And you remember that Amalise left you in my care, so you'll trust me, just a little bit for that reason."

Luke said nothing.

Jude pushed up, propping himself on his elbow, looking down at Luke. "Remember Mak?" He saw the quick muscle movement around the corners of Luke's eyes. He pointed to himself. "Well, I am Jude."

Luke stared.

Touching his chest with two fingers, he repeated the words. "I am Jude. Jude." Then he touched his finger to Luke's chest, speaking softly. "And you are Luke."

Luke looked down at the finger, then up at Jude.

"Luke," he repeated.

Jude blinked and nodded.

Grinning, Jude swung his legs to the side of the bed and twisted around. He ran his hand lightly down the cast, then patted it. Not too bad, he thought. The doctor had said he'd be moving around on crutches soon. Jude could show him how—he'd had a broken bone or two in his time.

Luke reached down and touched the cast where Jude had touched it, then gave Jude a questioning look.