A King's Ransom (50 page)
Everything's delicious, honey, my father said.
Best ever, I added.
My father smiled at me as he reached for another slice of my mother's famous cornbread. Nick, I was thinking about taking the Bertram out tomorrow. Sailfish are running. It's catch and release, pure sport.
Who's going?
Just me, so far. I was hoping you might want to come along.
It might have been a small thing in other families, but with our past this was huge. I'd like that a lot.
Good. Set your alarm for four-fifteen.
I coughed on my ice water. Lindsey snickered and said, Be careful what you wish for.
The phone rang, and my mother dropped the gravy ladle. The kidnapping was over, but some of the reflexes remained. The ringing continued, two, three times. With my mother's reaction, no one moved. It was strangely cathartic, allowing the phone to beckon until it stopped, no compelling need to answer it.
Dad broke the silence. This seems like a good opportunity to settle some family business. Your mother and I have been talking about what to do with the money.
He meant the million and a half, of course. Though technically it was supposed to have been used for payment of his ransom, it was ours now, the proceeds of my lump-sum settlement with Quality Insurance. My father could do with it as he wished.
After Nick gets back his out-of-pocket losses, I want to buy out Guillermo and take over the business myself. The way the company's been losing money, it shouldn't take much. I'm sure I can turn it around with him out of my hair.
I nodded. Even though the drug allegations appeared to have been manufactured by Guillermo's ex-wife, Dad was still better off without him. You'd do well to distance yourself from him anyway, I said.
I want Grandma to get the best care available. And of course we'd like to set something aside for our three children - the two of you and your future little brother or sister, he added, smiling as he laid his hand on my mother's belly.
Sounds good to me, said Lindsey.
His expression turned more serious. Beyond that, there are a couple people outside the family I want to take care of. Hector's widow, for one. She lost a husband and a son in that shoot-out in Cartagena.
That's the right thing to do, I said.
And there's Jenna. She put a lot of time into this for no pay.
She definitely came through when no one else would, I said.
I thought fifty thousand would be fair.
I totally agreed with him, but I was slightly uncomfortable with the concept, or at least the timing. You think it'll look like I'm trying to buy her back?
It might, said Lindsey. Especially now.
What do you mean?
She seemed reluctant to speak up, not quite looking me in the eye. I wasn't going to say anything on the holiday, but my jogging route took me past Jenna's place this morning. There's a Sold' sign out on the front lawn.
It hit me hard, though I tried not to show it, hoping to keep our Thanksgiving upbeat. The way I felt about Jenna, however, was no secret in our house.
Lindsey lowered her eyes, as did my mother.
I'm sorry, Nick, my father said.
Me too, I said as I poked at my cranberry sauce.
I went to see Jenna that night. Sure enough, dangling from the real estate agency's sign in her front yard was another little sign that said sold.
Jenna had lain low since my father's return, insisting that it was best for the family to heal on its own for a while. I'd felt as if there were things left unsaid. Seeing the Sold sign with my own eyes had only reinforced the feeling. I walked up the old Chicago brick walkway and knocked on the front door. Her car was in the driveway, so I knew she was home.
The door opened, and she smiled faintly. Hi.
I suddenly didn't know what to say. Wasn't sure you'd be in town.
This year the family was doing Thanksgiving with my brother and his kids in Seattle. I made an excuse. Just didn't feel like flying across the country.
Can I come in?
Sure.
I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and followed her into the living room. It seemed strange the way our relationship had changed, yet everything in this room had remained exactly the way I remembered it. Even the big cushy reading chair was in the same place, covering that ugly brown paint stain on the old Persian rug we'd purchased at an antique store for next to nothing. The chair was a recliner, but it had been out of commission ever since that night I was studying for the bar exam, when Jenna had climbed in with me, tossed my outlines aside, and nearly set the thing on fire, figuratively speaking.
Have a seat, she said.
I started toward the memory chair, then thought better of it and took a seat on the couch.
Want a soda? Beer?
No, thanks. I just wanted to talk.
She took a seat on the ottoman, on the other side of the cocktail table. How's your job hunting coming?
I've narrowed it down to two medium-sized firms in the Gables. Both good groups of people. And they all seem to have a life outside the law firm. Imagine that, huh?
That would be a good move for you.
I nodded. I saw the Sold' sign out front.
She blinked and said, Oh, that.
Yeah, that.
The deal's not even inked yet, and my agent put that out. She's fed up with me. Said that if I kill the deal this time, she's quitting.
Kill the deal?
This is actually the third full-price offer I've received this month. I've managed to wiggle out each time.
Sounds like you're not really sure about this move, I said, hopeful.
She looked away, then back. I'm all over the map, literally. When I think about the low times, I feel like packing. Then I'll find something while I'm going through my stuff. A piece of jewelry or one of those mushy cards you used to write me in your own words. I'm totally confused.
My throat tightened. I had plenty to tell her, but I didn't want to say the wrong thing. I don't want you to go.
Is that what you came here to tell me?
That, and a lot of things.
Like what?
I - I didn't prepare a speech. I was kind of hoping you'd get all Jerry Maguire on me and tell me I had you at hello.
That got a smile, then a little laughter. We'd seen the movie a few years earlier on one of our first dates, and she'd clearly remembered it as well as I had. Every now and then, you get me right in the funny bone, you know that?
Her smile faded, and our eyes met. What are you thinking? she asked.
That I always want to make you laugh. That I wish you'd give us a second chance. That if you insist on trying to sell this place, I'm going to put a full-page ad in the paper saying it's haunted.
Funny. That's exactly what I told the last buyer to get myself out of the deal.
What do you say we go out and talk about this over a couple of drinks?
What do you have in mind?
Anything but a Dark n' Stormy.
Mojitos?
Now you're talking.
She grabbed her sweater, and we started for the door. I know a new place over on South Beach. Best Mojito you ever had, she said.
Really?
I guarantee it.
She locked the front door, and we walked toward my Jeep. That wouldn't be a lifetime guarantee, would it? I asked.
She climbed into her seat, shooting me a playful look. One step at a time, bozo.
Sure, I said as I turned the ignition. Sounds good to me. Really good.
Appendix KIDNAPPER HAS LEFT ELEVEN DEAD
That grim headline greeted me on day one of my trip to Latin America while researching A King's Ransom. The story went on to report that these heavily armed bandits, who had left human heads displayed on sticks, had just taken a Canadian businessman hostage. They demanded a hefty ransom.
Over a breakfast of bananas and fresh papaya, my guide and I re-routed my trip.
Kidnapping for ransom is now an industry in Latin America, and nowhere else in the world is business booming the way it is in Colombia. The scope of the problem first hit me when I heard the story of Tomas Bernardo Sinisterra, a Cali businessman who was kidnapped at gunpoint in his driveway by Marxist guerillas. The ransom demand was $6 million. For six months he was held in the Andes Mountains while his family negotiated for his release. During his prolonged captivity, his wife gave birth to their daughter, and his father passed away. Finally, after payment of less than the initial demand, he was released, thirty pounds thinner.
One man's ordeal was harrowing enough, but I was moved to write a novel when I learned that thousands of people are kidnapped for ransom each year in Colombia. Most are taken by guerilla groups who use the ransom money - millions of dollars each year - to finance their drug labs and the war against the Colombian government. Guerillas control forty percent of the country, and the scale of their criminal operations is staggering. Once every three hours someone is kidnapped for ransom. It usually takes six months to a year to secure the victim's release. One in ten are never released. Sometimes the kidnappers demand a ransom for the return of the dead body.
Researching this book was fascinating. I interviewed FBI agents, State Department officials, and negotiators trained in international kidnappings. Two of these negotiators worked for Control Risks Group, the world's most elite private security firm. CRG and Lloyds of London are credited with having invented kidnap and ransom insurance, a mysterious business that is described in detail in A King's Ransom.
Most moving of all for me were my interviews of kidnap victims and their families. One man had been kidnapped four times, the last by women dressed as nuns. The AK-47s were hidden under their habits. Another told me of a neighbor who was kidnapped six times. On the seventh, the family refused to pay. He was executed.
The story of kidnapping in Colombia is ready to be told. Mike Wallace of 60 Minutes recently interviewed the president of Colombia, who himself was kidnapped before becoming mayor of Bogota. The recent motion picture Proof of Life was inspired in part by the real life kidnapping of Thomas Hargrove, an American who was held in the mountains by Colombian guerillas for eleven months. Hopefully, stories like these will bring added awareness to Colombia's kidnapping nightmare.
- James Grippando