Shell Game (Stand Alone 2) (40 page)

Nick paused. Edward watched Cunningham go pale and swallow nervously.

“Here’s what I propose,” Nick continued. “We’ll accept an $11 million credit line from you and will secure it with half of the new restaurant locations we’re financing at a sixty percent loan to value ratio. We’ll commit to put at least forty percent equity in all our new locations. We’ll establish an identical $11 million facility with Philadelphia Bank & Trust on the same terms. And we’ll split our deposit business equally between the two banks.

“That seems reasonable,” Cunningham said, although he didn’t look happy about sharing business with another lender.

“There’s something else,” Nick said. “I want a twenty-year amortization and maturity on the loan. The bank can adjust the interest rate every five years at prime rate, but the bank can’t call the loan before twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” Cunningham said. “That’s really not bank policy. I’ll have to talk to the senior loan committee.”

“You do that, Mr. Cunningham. I’d like an answer by Friday, so we know how to proceed. We’re a fast-growing company and we don’t want to miss out on opportunities while the bank dallies.”

Nick nodded at Edward. “I think we’ve finished here,” he said.

Edward and Nick stood, but Paul remained seated. They looked at Paul and Edward asked, “Was there something else?”

“I think it would be a great idea, Mr. Cunningham,” Paul said, “if the bank released the hold on Winter Enterprises’ bank account. As the company no longer owes you anything, maintaining a hold on its account is not only a bad faith action but a breach of the loan agreement.”

Cunningham went beet red. “I’m terribly sorry; I completely forgot about that.” He picked up the telephone receiver, hastily punched in a number, and ordered someone on the other end to remove the hold on the company’s account.

Paul then stood, thanked Cunningham, and said, “That should do it for now.”

Once outside the bank, Edward started chuckling. By the time they reached their vehicles, all three men were laughing uproariously.

“That was mean, but it felt so damned good,” Nick said. “That sonofabitch took five years off my life in these past three weeks. He deserved that.”

Edward put on a stern look and said, “All you Mediterranean types care about is revenge. I’m laughing because I’ve never felt so relieved in my life.”

“So there was no feeling of payback in there for you? None at all?” Nick asked.

Edward kept the stern look on his face as long as he could, but cracked and began laughing again. He held up his hand, his thumb and index finger almost touching. “Oh, maybe just a little.” A few peaceful moments passed. “When are you going to meet with Ernest Deakyne?” Edward asked. “That guy was the only one who stepped up to help us when we felt the end was near.”

Nick smiled. “I’ve got an appointment with him first thing in the morning.”

Edward thanked Paul and walked toward his car with Nick. But Paul called out to him and asked, “Can I have a minute?”

“Of course,” Edward answered. He tossed his car keys over to Nick and said, “I’ll be right with you. What’s up?”

“I’m having dinner with your mother tonight. I wanted you to know I’m planning on spending as much time with her as she will allow. If that’s a problem for you, I will resign from being your lawyer because as much as I value your business and our friendship, I value my relationship with your mother even more.”

Edward was a bit surprised at Paul’s frankness. He thought for a second about how to respond, and finally said, “I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather see my mother with than you, Paul. You’ve been a stalwart friend and counselor to all of us for a long time. You and Mom deserve one another, and happiness.”

Wendy drove across the Swiss border into Italy and marveled at the green expanse of valley that extended southward from the mountain pass. She sighed contentedly, as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Switzerland had been interesting, but the people were too reserved for her taste. Besides, she’d always wanted to see Florence and Rome.

She looked down at her cell phone resting on the passenger seat and thought momentarily about calling Darren Noury. She’d liked the man; he was kind and considerate, and made her feel safe. But she wasn’t ready for a relationship right now.

She brushed a stray tear away when she thought about how long it had been since a man had done something compassionate or affectionate—before all this happened.

Wendy recalled her last conversation with Darren before he dropped her off at the Philadelphia Airport. “What would you do if you had all the money in the world?” she’d asked.

He thought about that for a minute before answering, “The same thing I do now. I like to work, and I like the adrenaline rush I get from security. Plus, it feels good making people feel safe.” He laughed and added, “Besides I need to work, since I don’t have ‘all the money in the world.’ I don’t even have a miniscule percentage of all the money in the world.”

“Thank you, Darren,” Wendy said abruptly.

“For what?”

“For making
me
feel safe.”

“You know, this isn’t a job to me, Wendy,” he’d said.

Carrie Winter had used up less than a week of her one-month leave, but she made a calculated decision to report early to her new assignment at the Pentagon. Philadelphia Police Detective Castiglia had told her he would like her to come in to Police Headquarters to answer some questions. She knew the guy was on a fishing expedition because he was suspicious about some of the reports he’d received about a blonde woman in Pastorius Park, and about her role in Folsom’s death. She was half-tempted to match wits with Castiglia but, in the end, decided that was a no-win tactic. Besides, Eddie and Betsy were busy with their newborn son and the New York franchise, and Mom was busy with Paul. She had begun to feel like a fifth wheel. Her assignment to the Pentagon would be for two years. There would always be weekends with the family in Cape May, once the heat from Castiglia subsided.

Carrie hugged her mother and, before saying goodbye, asked her to do her a favor: “If the Philadelphia police ask you for a contact number for me, just tell them I went back to Afghanistan. Tell them to call information for Helmand Province.”

In response to her mother’s confused look, she hugged Katherine again.

“How would you like me to make dinner tomorrow night at my place?” Katherine asked, smiling at Paul across the small restaurant table.

“Isn’t that a bit forward coming from a woman of your generation and gentility?” Paul teased.

“The last time I calculated the years that passed since Frank died, I came up with twenty-two. That’s twenty-two years of you being a friend and supporter who I’ve taken for granted and, most of the time, ignored. You want gentile and reserved for another twenty-two years, or do you want aggressive?”

Paul rubbed his chin as though considering his options.

Katherine feigned anger and said, “Okay, forget it; I’ll find someone who wants to spend time with me.”

Paul shot her a Cheshire cat grin and said, “That sounds aggressive, all right.”

“I guess it did. Is that too aggressive for you?”

“Damn,” he said. “I always wanted to be dominated by a woman. But I want you to pretend I’m in charge every once in a while. Like maybe Mondays and Thursdays.”

“As long as it’s not more than two days a week.” She smiled and added, “Remember what Dorothy Sayers said: ‘Time and trouble will tame an advanced young woman. But an advanced old woman is uncontrollable by any force.’ ”

She placed her hand softly on his and said, “I think we need to order another bottle of wine.”

“A woman drove me to drink, and I never had the courtesy to thank her.”

Katherine smiled. “Now you’re quoting W. C. Fields?”

“I always fall back on W. C. Fields when I run out of other material.”

“I think I won that round,” she said.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joseph Badal’s thirty-eight years in the banking and financial services industries provide a solid foundation for the storyline in “Shell Game,” a thriller that uses the financial meltdown that began in 2007 as a backdrop for murder, greed, corruption, and mayhem. His roles as a financial consultant and as a senior executive in banking and mortgage organizations give him unusual insight into the capital markets meltdown that continues to impact economies and markets to this day.

Prior to his finance career, Joe served as an officer in the U.S. Army in critical, highly classified positions in the U.S. and overseas, including tours of duty in Greece and Vietnam. He earned numerous military decorations.

Joe’s first suspense novel, “The Pythagorean Solution,” was released in April, 2003. His next release, “Terror Cell” (#2 in the Bob Danforth series), was published in July 2004. The paperback version of “The Pythagorean Solution” was released in 2005. His books “The Nostradamus Secret” (#3 in the Bob Danforth series) and “Evil Deeds” (#1 in the Bob Danforth series) were released in 2011. All of his books are available in paper and digital formats.

He was recognized in 2011 as “One of The 50 Best Writers You Should Be Reading.” His short story
Fire & Ice
will be included in the anthology Uncommon Assassins,” which will be released in Fall 2012.

To learn more, visit Joe’s website at
www.josephbadalbooks.com
. You can see Joe’s blog at
http://www.josephbadal.wordpress.com
.