Point of Contact

49

Rhodes paced the floor of his fourth-floor office, ignoring the magnificent view.

Like his two defense-industry rivals Northrop Grumman and General Dynamics, Marin Aerospace was located in Fairfax County, Virginia. It wasn’t a convenient location for manufacturing and it didn’t offer any particular economic or comparative advantages except for one: The small Virginia county in the northernmost reaches of the state sat just across the border from Washington, D.C.

As with every other major corporation in the United States, the most important business decisions Marin Aerospace made occurred in the halls of Congress. Access to legislators was more valuable than raw materials, cash, or credit. Legislative access — crony capitalism — was how Marin Aerospace acquired most of its government contracts, blunted potentially harmful regulations, tempered investigations into cost overruns, and otherwise kept the cash cow flowing with taxpayer-subsidized milk. Rhodes didn’t like the way the game was played — most of his C-suite friends didn’t, either — but he didn’t invent the rules; he mastered them.

But today was a different kind of headache.

The kind that could get him killed.

Or worse.

He could wind up broke.

Rhodes had a lot of personal money riding on this operation. So would Zvezdev. But he wasn’t a fool. He’d crossed Zvezdev once before. “All in the past. Time to make money!” he’d promised. But the wily Bulgarian was still a Slav, and Slavs had long memories — and even longer knives. He didn’t dare cross him again.

Rhodes stared at the cell phone on his desk, willing it to ring. What was the delay? He was certain that Paul Brown would’ve already installed the USB drive he’d given him. Did he just forget to call?

Idiot.

Against his better judgment, Rhodes snatched up the phone and hit the only speed-dial number programmed into it.

Paul slept with his head in a puddle of his own drool on the kitchen table until his cell phone rang. He rubbed his face and pulled his glasses back on. He stared uneasily at the digital readout. He nearly knocked the empty whiskey bottle off the table as he picked up the phone.

“Weston?”

“What the hell’s the delay?”

Paul winced. An old wound from a long time ago. The churlish, condescending Weston Rhodes he knew in Sofia was suddenly on the other end of the line. He fumbled for his words, trying to gather his wits.

“Uh, the ‘tea is brewing,’ but I haven’t had time—”

“Oh, forget the tea! We’re not doing that now. Just tell me why you haven’t installed that damn drive yet.”

“The drive?”

“Yes! The goddamn drive I gave you!”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Uh, there’s a problem with Dalfan security—”

“A security problem? I sent you, Paul, because you’re a problem solver.”

“And I think I’ve solved it.”

“Good!”

“But I still need time. It should be done within the next twelve hours.”

“You only have twenty-four. You do understand that, right? Midnight, local. Your time, Paul. Not mine.”

Paul thought of Carmen. He wanted to cry again, but didn’t. “Yes, Senator. I understand. I’m doing the best I can.”

“You’re cutting it awfully close.”

“I won’t fail you.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Senator?”

“Paul, I apologize for losing my temper. You just have no idea about the pressure I’m under. You know how unreasonable those bureaucrats at Langley can be. They’re breathing down my neck.”

“I understand. And trust me, it will be taken care of today.”

“Without fail?”

“Without fail.”

“I knew I could count on you. And thanks again, Paul. You’re doing a helluva service for your country.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, and be sure to tell Jack hello for me.” Rhodes clicked off.

Paul shut his phone. Weston Rhodes was still a horse’s ass, but it was his country that needed him now. Paul put a beefy hand to his throbbing head.

My country might have to wait a few more minutes.

Paul used his arms to lift his unsteady frame from the chair, heading for bed. He limped up the stairs, leaning heavily on the handrail until he reached the landing. He shuffled past Jack’s bedroom. The lights were off, the door ajar. He pushed it open a little more. The bed was still made.

Paul frowned. He wondered if Jack was with Lian, having sex. They seemed close. But that wasn’t good, at least from an auditing perspective.