Cash Out (25 page)

Rod loses the MC voice, lowers his voice to that rumble. “Door Number Two.”

Duncan waits for more.

“Do you know what I do for a living, David?”

“No, I—”

“I fight people.” Rod's eyes twinkle; his voice goes soft and gentle. “In a cage.”

Duncan tries to maintain eye contact, and fails.

“So.” Rod chuckles to himself. “
Behind Door Number Two . . .”

Larry says, “No, just Door Number One.”

Rod blinks. “Door Number Two . . . Well, that's just me. Or, I should say, me and you. Right here in this office. With the door shut. Our little cage.”

“Guys, we can work this out.”

Rod smiles. “Good, because the other option is Door Number Three. And that one is a lot less physical, I guess, isn't it, Danny?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It's just me contacting some of my old coworkers from my newspaper days. Just me telling a few choice business writers—or maybe my crime reporter buds?—about David Duncan, the partner in a major private equity fund, who is having employees of FlowBid,
a company in which he has heavily invested
, stalked, harassed, and attacked by a high-priced private security operative.”

Duncan says, “Guys—”

Rod says, “No, David. I'm going to ask you a simple question, and you are going to answer it. And if you don't, well, I guess I'll let Larry here choose a door.”

Larry clicks, produces a cloud of smoke. Baldy chitters and moans.

Rod leans in. “David, why did you have this asshole attack Dan here and harass his family?”

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 for 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.”

R
od 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.”

L
arry 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—”