Chapter 45

“There is a second buyer who is very interested in Castle Cay,” said Frank Martino into his headset, using the stale ploy to nail down John Walsh, the lawyer representing Holiday Cruise Lines.

Attorney Walsh wasn’t biting.

“Well, if Mr. Solomon can’t wait for my client to consider every aspect of this contract in light of the new circumstances, perhaps he should sell to them.”

Frank wondered what the hell he meant by that. Did they want out of the deal? Or were they angling for a lower purchase price? He was glad the man on the other end of the phone couldn’t see the panic on his face. Fortunately, Frank had mastered a confident phone voice.

“Mr. Solomon is a man of his word, Mr. Walsh. He accepted Holiday’s offer, and he will stand by his commitment to sell Castle Cay to your client for the agreed amount,” said Frank. “And, of course, no one wants to see a buyer lose their deposit.”

Take that, you wiseass. Now he was playing hardball, and he had just whacked it into Walsh’s court.

Addicted to winning, Frank felt a rush as the balance of power returned to his side. He rocked back in his desk chair, his hands locked behind his neck, swiveling around to see if any of his fellow agents had heard. Nick, in the cubicle across the aisle had, and Frank winked at him while he waited, silently, for Walsh to reply.

“My client just wants a thirty-day extension on the closing date, Mr. Martino. They have every intention of proceeding with the purchase.”

Thirty days! I could be dead in thirty days.

Frank knew that he had no authority to negotiate. As an agent, he was required by law to present this request to his principal, Avram Solomon. Although that would be unpleasant, it wasn’t the problem. The problem was a hundred grand Frank owed Joey Bonanno, his bookie.

Fuck. First the seller needs more time, now the buyer!

“Of course, I’ll present your request to Mr. Solomon,” he said in his best phone voice, his back now turned to his colleague across the aisle. “But, frankly, it could be the ‘straw that breaks the camel’s back’, so to speak. Your client might be more successful asking for a two-week extension, Mr. Walsh.”

Frank knew that was weak. The length of the silence on the other end confirmed it. The power had shifted. At last, the attorney spoke.

“Well, let’s try thirty days first, Mr. Martino. Goodbye.”

Fuck. Me.

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