Chasing the Wind Read Online Free

handle the investors' documents, although we'll assure they're consistent with our bank syndicate agreements. Raymond," he pointed his pen at Raymond, "stay on top of their placement memorandum when they draft it."
    Raymond nodded.
    Amalise listened, elated. Representing the financing of a major new hotel in the city right now was job security for an associate. With the economy waffling and investors walking a tightrope after the summer slowdown, the firm would go all out for this one. Oil prices were still jacked up, and unemployment hovered around seven percent, so this was a coup for Mangen & Morris.
    "Preston, get someone on the environmental work right away," Doug continued. "I understand Murdoch's contractor is handling permits, so coordinate with him as well." He looked around. "And whatever plans any of you have for the next six weeks, including Thanksgiving, cancel them." Doug gave Amalise a quick glance. She nodded, setting aside thoughts of Mama's certain reaction back home in Marianus.
    Doug leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. "All right, now. Bingham Murdoch is somewhat of a mystery. Like I said, he's Tom's friend, Morgan Klemp's contact. Low key, shuns publicity. Tom says he's a silent investor behind some major developments in the Florida Keys, California, and Atlanta." He paused for an instant and leaned back. "There's some talk casino gambling's on the way down here. This hotel would be the perfect fit."
    Raymond rolled his eyes. "Legalized gambling won't be permitted in Louisiana."
    Preston hunched forward. "Look around you, Raymond. Been out to the track lately? You can hardly find a seat in the stands. And the state needs the revenues. It's inevitable."
    "We're getting ahead of ourselves." Doug gave Raymond and Preston a look. "What happens with the hotel in the future isn't our concern. Not yet. So keep the speculation to yourselves. Frank Earl Blanton at First Merchant got the pitch exclusively, and he's impressed with Morgan Klemp's presentation as it stands. He doesn't want to bring up the subject of a casino just yet." His eyes swept the table. "This project is highly confidential. Soon as we close, Lone Ranger will begin purchasing business and residential property in the target area under agents' names. If word gets out, it could inflate prices, slow down negotiations."
    He looked about and everyone nodded.
    "So." Doug straightened in the chair and shot his sleeves. "We have to be circumspect, move fast. Make this happen."
    Preston clasped his hands on the table and studied them. "What's our target date for closing?"
    Doug's brows flattened. "Murdoch insists on the last business day before Thanksgiving. He's got something else going after that, Tom says." He flipped open a leather calendar and studied it. Stabbed his finger on a date, thought about it a minute, then looked up. "That's six weeks away. November twenty-third." His voice hardened as he pushed the calendar aside. "The firm has given assurances that we can meet that schedule." Leaning back, he spread his arms over the back of his chair and looked around. "Any questions?"
    "What's the location?"
    There was a split-second hesitation before Doug answered. His tone held a touch of defiance. "It's a portion of the Marigny District, between Esplanade, Royal, and Elysian Fields."
    Amalise stopped writing and looked up. She couldn't have heard right.
    The room had fallen silent. The Faubourg Marigny was a piece of history, the first area settled in New Orleans back in the early 1800s. Almost an extension of the French Quarter, the area was colorful, eclectic, though run down in parts, one had to admit. The portion of the district that Doug described was a triangle of small businesses and wooden cottages, old architecture, the kind of neighborhood beloved by the city. Besides homes, there were funky shops, blues bars, sidewalk cafes, a park, and several good restaurants in that corner of the Marigny.
    Amalise tried to hide her distress.