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Richard looked back at him, his eyes cold. “No,” he said.
Even then Marco misunderstood. He thought Richard was saying no to the interest. “No, really. I want to pay interest. A hundred thousand would do it.”
Richard leaned forward in his seat, hulking over the little table between them. “I said no.”
Marco felt the heat go up his neck, felt his face flush. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t believe Richard meant it.
“We’re not giving you any more money, Marco,” Richard said. “We won’t loan you any money either. You’re on your own.” He settled back in his comfortable club chair. “I know a bad investment when I see one.”
Marco didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to beg. When Richard made up his mind, that was it. And he’d obviously made up his mind.
“Alice and I feel the same way about this—we’d already decided to stop giving you any more handouts,” Richard added.
What about your daughter? Marco wanted to ask, but he couldn’t find his voice. Then he realized he already knew the answer.
Richard would tell Anne about this. He’d tell his daughter what a poor choice she’d made in Marco. Richard and Alice had never liked him. They’d been waiting patiently for this day. They wanted Anne to leave him. To take his baby and leave him. Of course that’s what they wanted.
Marco couldn’t let that happen.
He stood up suddenly, bumping the little table between them at his knees. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll manage on my own.” He turned and left the lounge, blind with rage and shame. He would tell Anne himself first. Tell her what a bastard her father really was.
It was late afternoon. Time for one more drink before he went home. He went over to his own bar for a quick one and then went for his walk. Bruce was already there, on the bench. That was the moment. The point at which there was no going back.
THIRTY
You look like shit,” Bruce said as Marco sat down beside him on the bench.
Marco was numb. He’d screwed up his courage to ask, but he hadn’t actually considered that Richard would say no. The business could be saved, Marco was sure of it. There were some bad debts, clients who hadn’t paid. But there was some new business he was chasing—they were just being slow about making a decision. It could still all come right, with a little money to tide him over. He still had his ambition. He still believed in himself. He just needed some breathing space. He needed some cash.
“I need some money,” Marco told Bruce. “Know any loan sharks?” He was only half joking. He knew how desperate he must seem.
But Bruce took him seriously. He turned sideways to look at Marco. “No, I don’t know any loan sharks. And anyway, you don’t want to do that,” Bruce said.
“Well, I don’t know what the fuck else I can do,” Marco said, running his hand through his hair, staring angrily out at the river.
“You could declare bankruptcy, start over,” Bruce said after some thought. “Lots of people do.”
“I can’t do that,” Marco said stubbornly.
“Why not?” Bruce asked.
“Because it would kill my wife. She’s . . . she’s fragile right now. Post-baby. You know.” Marco leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands.
“You have a baby?” Bruce said, sounding surprised.
“Yes,” Marco said, glancing up. “A baby girl.”
Bruce sat back and looked hard at Marco.
“What?” Marco said.
“Nothing,” Bruce said quickly.
“No, you were going to say something,” Marco said, straightening up on the bench.
Bruce was obviously turning something over in his mind. “How do your wife’s parents feel about their little granddaughter?”
Marco said, “They dote on her. She’s the only grandchild. I know what you’re getting at. They’ll give her money for her education, probably settle some money on her when she’s twenty-one, but they’ll tie it up in a trust so I can’t get my hands on it. No help there.”
“There is if you’re creative about it,” Bruce said, cocking his head at him.
Marco stared at him. “What do you mean?”
Bruce leaned in and lowered his voice. “Are you willing to take a little risk?”
“What are you talking about?” Marco cast about to see if there was anyone who could overhear, but they were alone.
“They won’t give you money, but I bet they’d pay up pretty fast to get their only grandchild back.”
“What are you suggesting?” Marco whispered. But he knew.
The two men eyed each other. If Marco hadn’t already had a couple of drinks, especially the miserable one he’d shared with his father-in-law, he might have given Bruce a firm no and gone home to his wife and told her the truth, as he’d planned. Declared bankruptcy and started over. They still had the house. They had each other, and Cora. But Marco had also stopped at a liquor store on his way to the river. He’d brought a bottle in a paper bag with him. Now he cracked it open, offered some to his friend, and took a long gulp straight from the bottle. The alcohol blurred things a bit, made everything seem less impossible.
Bruce lowered his voice. “You stage a kidnapping. Not a real kidnapping, a pretend kidnapping. No one gets hurt.”
Marco stared at him. He leaned in closer and whispered, “How would that work? It wouldn’t be pretend to the police.”
“No, but if you do it right, it’s the perfect crime. Your wife’s parents pay, you get the baby back, it’s all over in a couple of days. Once the baby comes home, the police lose interest.”
Marco turned it over in his mind. The booze made it all seem a little bit less crazy.
“I don’t know,” Marco said nervously.
“Do you have any better ideas?” Bruce chided him, handing him the paper bag with the open bottle.
They discussed the details, hypothetically at first. He could pretend to kidnap his own child. Hand her over to Bruce, who would take her up to his cabin in the Catskills for a couple of days. He had three kids of his own, grown up now, but he knew how to take care of an infant. They would each get disposable, untraceable prepaid cell phones and communicate that way. Marco would have to hide the phone somewhere.
“I’d need about a hundred thousand,” he said, looking out at the river, watching the birds circling in the sky above it.
Bruce scoffed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What do you mean?” Marco said.
“If you’re caught, the penalty is the same whether you ask for a hundred thousand or a hundred million. At least make it worth our while. No point in doing this for peanuts.”
Marco and Bruce shared the bottle back and forth as Marco considered it. Richard and Alice Dries were worth about fifteen million as far as he knew. They had the money. If Marco got a million, he could save his business and pay off his mortgage, without any more help from Anne’s parents. At least not directly. It would be sweet to take a couple million off that bastard Richard.
They decided on a ransom of two million. Split fifty-fifty.
“Not bad for two days’ work,” Bruce assured him.
Marco decided it had to be soon. If he waited longer, he would lose his nerve. He said, “Tomorrow night we’re going out—there’s a dinner party next door. We’ll have a babysitter, but she always falls asleep on the couch with her earbuds.”
“You could go out for a smoke and sneak home and bring the baby out to me,” Bruce said.
Marco thought about it. It could work. They discussed the plan in more detail.
