Chapter 13 - Bottom Turn

As soon as I made it down the open riser wood stairs I saw Andrea sitting on of the contemporary leather and chrome dining chair, hands behind her bound with silver duct tape. Her mouth was bound as well. I was sure that when the tape came off so will a layer of skin.

"Release her," I demanded.
"Not until you write the press release," responded Nord.
"She will be treated with respect," I demanded.

I looked into her hazel eyes, which were red from crying. Her eyes were begging me. Obviously her mouth was taped after the scream that I heard just a few minutes prior.

"Now!" I demanded.
"Mr. Scott, you are in no position to make demands," said Nord. We will not harm her. She will have to stay that way until the bell at nine thirty tomorrow. She lives for now. This collateral is mine until the stock goes up, then she can go with you to Central America or stay here. That will be your decision."

I knew that if and when the stock price rises, Andrea and I were dead. I have no experience in this area of criminal minds, but I had seen enough crime shows to know that we were loose ends who could identify our captures. I doubted that Nord and Diego had plans for us to actually live when all was said and done.

“I can’t think this way and she can help me write the press release. We always work as a team on these matters,” I said hoping to sway him.

Nord seemed to ponder this. If the press release was not compelling enough to drive the stock price up, I suspect Nord will face a similar fate as Andrea and me. I was surprised how easy it was to influence his next move. Without a word, he used the fingernail of his index finger to pry a corner of the silver tape. The strong adhesive gave him challenge as he finally freed enough to grab the tape between his index finger and thumb. He then ripped the tape from her face. I was right, the outer layer of epidermis went with it and Andrea's pale face was now red.

“Her hands too,” I ordered.

Nord seemed to acquiesce quickly. He fished a knife from his pocket and quickly flung the blade opened. I suspect he practiced this menacing maneuver in the mirror as a pre-teen. He was clearly the type of kid I would have stayed clear of at school, the nerd that I was – am. Diego stood by the window, ignoring our debate and watching the teen girls who had skipped school to hang at the beach. He was clearly mesmerized. Andrea showed fear in her eyes as they traced the movement of the glistening steel that Nord purposely moved past her cheek and down to her hands, then in one swift stoke severed the duct tape. She was left to her own devises to remove the remnants, which she balled up and set on the glass and chrome dining room table next to me. My reward for winning my first round of the day. Alas a fragment of success.

“Don’t fuck up, or she will die!” threatened Nord after losing his first battle. “Now you two get in your study and start writing. Don’t think about sending an email or calling anyone, I have removed the phones and disabled the wireless connection on your laptop.”
“How ‘bout some food?” I asked. “I can’t write on an empty stomach.”
“All you have in the fridge is beer and Coke. How do you live on that shit?” Asked Nord.

I’m sure he was hungry as well and it was going to be a long night. “Just get in there and start writing, I'll take care of the food.”

Andrea followed me into the study. She was very familiar with my condo. She had spend many nights after too many drinks while entertaining analysts and institutional investors. I always knew that she wanted more from our friendship but I couldn’t bring myself to have a relationship with the boss, and she really was too plain for me in a tomboy kind of way. Andrea had boyfriends come and go over the years. She hated dating, and unlike Nord’s rude comments I didn't suspect her preference was for girls, especially the way she would look at me on occasion. That was territory that would never be discovered.

We made our way in silence to the study. Nord closed the glass paned double French doors behind us. He then grabbed a chair from the foyer and wedged it under the handles. I watched through the glass as he tested it for security. I walked around the glass table and sat in the Herman Miller ergo meshed chair, facing the French doors, flanked on my left by a large window overlooking the ocean. The minimalist sparseness of the condo helped me to think clearly without clutter. The desk as always was void of everything but my Moleskin journal, Monte Blanc pen, HP financial calculator and Sony Vaio. These were my tools to create financial success. Although of late, that was becoming increasingly challenging. Andrea sat across from me and waited for me to break the deafening silence.

“You okay?” I asked with compassion.“Yes,” she replied softly. “What is going on here Randy? You get into trouble when you went to Vegas last month?” I didn't answer right away. Was I to tell the story of what happened with Rachel? Then what they did to Jerry and Pete? I suppose I really had no choice. I sat in my cockpit. My back to the north and I was facing south. The sea was to my left. Andrea, my Vaio, and the thugs were in front of me. This is how I work best. Everything laid out in front of me. I felt a brief sense of control for the first time since leaving the Boxter on the Coastal Highway.

Could I be making the bottom turn of the swell to ride back up and dominate the wave? I watched as Nord opened and closed the front door behind Diego. The front door faced west and was to the right of the study entrance. “I will tell you later, right now we have to get out of here.”

Chapter 12 - Nord's Plan

I woke with the meanest friggin’ headache on my new Tempurpedic. No matter how comfortable it was my aching head could not be alleviated. Nord was sitting on the brown leather club chair watching soccer on the forty two inch high def plasma and drinking a Coke.

"Don't fuck with me again or I start removing fingers with a cigar cutter, capish?"
He used Italian this time, wanting to avoid my Nazi innuendo.
"Yes Sir,” I said earnestly. I felt comforted being in my home and not in jail, yet uncomfortable with these strangers. Ones I knew were capable of murder in a precise and technical way. I was sure they were equally skilled at torture. Nord flicked off the set with the remote, took a chug of Coke, and then unveiled the plan.

"So Mr. CFO, how are you going to get the stock price up?"
"Where's Diego?" I asked deflecting the question.
"Downstairs," he replied.
"What's your name?"
"You can call me Sir," he said smartly.
"Okay Sir, what are we doing here?"
"Are you deaf, we are here to get your stock price up?" His temper was starting to flare quickly.
"Oh yeah," I replied, "and how do you suppose I do that?"
"You’re the CFO, do it."
"It's not that easy. The price has been falling for six months, and lost thirty percent of its value," I replied. "It’s not like I give it a little blue pill and it rises," I said hoping my sarcasm didn’t get me whacked with the back end of his pistol again.
"You do it with reports and numbers don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then you do a press release or something," he said continuing his dissertation “how to make your stock price grow.”
"Yes."
"So make something up Mr. MBA, CPA, CFO. You have enough credentials, let's go to your study and start writing."
"I can't just make something up," I protested with my ethics on the line. I had spent a whole career trying not to just make stuff up. Certainly I embellished at times, but that was “spinning” the truth, not flat out lying.
"Okay," said Nord. "It's going to be harder to type without your fingers. We can start with your pinkies. You don't use them much to type do you? You strike me more as a three or four finger typist, you don't need ten fingers."

I began to sweat. My integrity was on the line. My career would be over. As soon as the price went up they would certainly kill me after they cashed out. What a mess. I looked at the alarm clock on the light wood Swedish style nightstand. It was three thirty in the afternoon; the market would close in half an hour.

"It's too late for today," I hedged.
"Of course it is.” His German accent became more noticeable as he got agitated. "You are going to work on it all night until my boss is happy with the press release. You will issue it just before the bell tomorrow morning, we will make sure it gets picked up by Squawk Box on CNBC, and the price will soar for ten minutes. We will cash out." Nord concluded the plan.
"And I will check out," I concluded my life.
"Mr. Scott, don't be so pessimistic. If your stock goes up five dollars a share by nine forty, we will set you up with a hacienda in Nicaragua. If it doesn't, you die. If you’re as smart as we think you are, you will be in Central America with all your fingers in twenty four hours."

Just then I heard a blood curdling female scream as if on queue.

"What was that?" I asked.
"I think you finance guys call it collateral," replied Nord. He was smiling and proud of his cunning maneuver early in the game. This was a game to him, and clearly he was winning - but I was not accustomed to losing.
"It was very nice of you to give Ms. CEO a tip. Fortunately she must have thought it a personal issue you were having and didn’t warrant the police. The dumb fraulein came alone, and now my partner is entertaining her. A bit plain though. Does she ever wear makeup?"
"You harm her and the deal is off. You can cut every finger off my hands and kill me if you like, but I won't write that press release if she is injured in any way." The chivalrous side I never knew I had woke from its coma.
"Are you saying you will write the press release?"
"Yes," I acquiesced.
"I like this collateral, works every time. No wonder banks require it," Nord said, clearly proud of himself. "Let's go down to the study and get to work," he continued.
"Andrea needs to be with me the entire time or the deal's off," I demanded.
"Like I said kind of plain but if you go for the dyke frauleins all the best to you."
I followed Nord down the spiral stairs with clear ocean view from the master to the great room.