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.