Page 54 of Ms. Fortune

“Call Calnetta Cars directly. Get Louie on the line.” I stare out the window at the dirty grey New York landscape. Unless it’s fresh snow, New York winters are not pretty.

Taylor nods and dials, and finds out Louie is unavailable, regardless of how important his call is. He hangs up and dials another number and hands me the phone.

I look at him quizzically but then take it. “Hello? Louie Calnetta?”

There’s a pause, but then, “This is Louie. Who is this?” His tone is cautious.

“This is Brandon Carmichael.”

“Ah, Mr. Carmichael. I believe we have a package of yours.” Now he sounds friendly. The asshole. Normandy isn’t just a ‘package.’

“Yes, you do. And I need to know where to send the payment you requested for its safe return to me. Can I please get that from you now?” I even throw in the ‘please’ to get this going.

“Of course, of course. I’ll have one of my sons get it to you once they’re back in the building.” He doesn’t seem eager to get this transaction completed at all. As if he’s got all the time in the world.

I don’t have time. I have maybe a half hour more before I need to be back in the courtroom.

“If it could be sooner rather than later, I’d appreciate it.”

He chuckles. He actually fucking laughs. “I’ll see what I can do. Goodbye.” And he hangs up on me. I stare at the phone, incredulous at his brazenness to hang up on me.

Taylor glances at his watch. “He was keeping the call untrackable. He might not be in Vegas right now. He could be keeping a physical distance from the situation for an alibi.”

All I can do now is wait.

We don’t hear back by the time that I need to return to the courtroom, so I give Taylor all the instructions he needs to complete the transfer. He and Diane are coordinating to make sure it goes smoothly. I’m reasonably confident that it will, but there’s still that niggling in my gut that something is utterly wrong about the entire thing. There’s nothing I can do about it, though.

I spend the next two hours learning more about Eve’s dealings with the Mamana family and her involvement in their real estate schemes, which actually are money laundering outlets for the crime family. I don’t provide any valuable information since I was in the dark about all of it. I find myself repeating myself over and over and trying to find new ways to say the same fucking thing. I knew nothing.

Finally, a little after 3:30, I’m thanked for wasting my fucking time and let go. I doubt I was very helpful to their case against Eve, but personally, I hope they throw the book at her. But then, I also don’t care what they do with her. She’s no longer my concern.

Once I enter the hallway, I find Taylor in a panic, pacing while speaking quietly but forcefully into his phone. I’ve never seen him so upset. When he sees me heading toward him, his face falls, and his shoulders sag. I can’t tell if it’s in relief or defeat.

“I will call you right back. Mr. Carmichael just returned.” He shuts off the phone and leads me to the end of the hall.

“Taylor, you’re worrying the shit out of me. What’s going on?”

He’s sweating and almost looks like he’s going to have a breakdown of some sort.

“The money transfer got flagged and stopped. I’ve been trying to convince them to let the money through, that it’s for a critical business deal, but all of a sudden, they want documentation proving an international business transaction.”

This can’t be happening. This cannot be fucking happening.

“Who flagged it? Who have you been dealing with?”

“The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and your bank too. Every transaction over $10,000 is reported to the IRS, but it’s not usually a big deal. I’m sure your company transfers large payments all the time. But when you called your bank directly yesterday and spoke to the bank president to ensure a smooth transaction, he apparently reported it to the U.S. Treasury as suspicious when the order came through today.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe this is happening. That god-damned asshole!” Other people in the hallway turn to stare at me, but I don’t give a shit.

“Diane’s trying to put together some sort of fake documentation, but….” He stalls, staring at me with the most miserable look I’ve ever seen.

“But what?”

“But I don’t think we’ll get this done in time, Mr. Carmichael. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, that’s not true. We can do this.” I start to panic and rush to the elevators, pressing the button repeatedly as if it will make it arrive faster. “We can do this, Taylor. I just need to think.” I check my watch, seventeen minutes. Fuck. “Call Diane, see where she’s at with that fake paperwork.” The elevator arrives, and Taylor follows me in, phone to his ear already. I have got to figure this out. I’m running out of time, and Normandy’s life depends on it. She’s counting on me.

We spend the next fifteen minutes calling everyone we know in the financial world to try to get this transfer through. Still, everyone’s hands are tied by the regulations. My pleading only worsens everyone’s suspicion of the large amount of money I want to transfer offshore. The money they demanded, and more is right fucking there in my account. Ready to go. And I can do nothing with it. At this point, I wouldn’t care if I had to break the law to send it. I have to do this. I have got to find a way to do this.

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