New Empires Rising. Mike Trial
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some time off.”
“Would $500,000 relieve your hesitancy?”
“Very generous,” JD said, surprised.
“I’m rather desperate to protect that oil platform,” Wolfe went on. “It represents many millions of dollars of investment by my firm. To sweeten the deal, I will also offer you a one-week consulting contract, the objective being to assess the security needs of the entire Senegalese oil operation and provide us a written plan. You’re welcome to do that work in my London office. Expenses paid, of course.”
A week in London, JD thought. That’s attractive.
“Would $100,000 plus expenses be acceptable for you to do the security analysis?” Wolfe prompted.
“$200,000 plus expenses would be exactly right,” JD countered.
“Done,” Wolfe said without hesitation. “Have your people notify my people of your bank info, and you’ll receive the first half of the payment today. I took the liberty of making you a reservation on this afternoon’s flight from Washington DC to London.”
“Today?” JD hesitated. But Wolfe’s offer is more than generous, and neither the platform security nor writing a security analysis should be too difficult. “Alright. I’ll be in your office tomorrow.”
JD glanced around and saw Cheryl standing on the terrace, coffee cup in hand. JD knew she had heard him agree to another operation, starting immediately.
She turned without a word and went into the house.
JD swirled the ice in his glass at the clouds dotting the dark blue Atlantic Ocean. Evening was swiftly falling as the airliner swept east toward London.
“Another one, sir?” The flight attendant had the bottle of Jameson whiskey raised to fill his glass.
“Yes, thank you.”
Cheryl is making it clear she’s not happy with me. That hurts. I’ve given Cheryl all the things she’s ever wanted. Everything but children, he reminded himself. But I think she’s gotten past that.
He sipped the whiskey. And I’ve made Lori Turner the first woman CEO of a PMC. No glass ceiling in my organization. And Iselin Security Options was the first to have regular mixed male-female security teams. Still...nobody seems very happy these days.
JD had stopped at his office in Crystal City, and Lori had met him there as he’d asked.
“Can you have someone get tickets to Flash, Lagos to Dakar, and have our courier service air freight a weapons set to Dakar? Also have someone contact Wolfe’s office, and have him send the down payment to our Caymans account. We don’t want the money coming here, do we?”
“No.” Lori continued to tap keys on the laptop she’d brought with her into the secure communications room. She’d come directly to the office from her gym, and was wearing a long-sleeved blue hooded sweatshirt, her chewed fingernails visible. The hood was flipped back, revealing dark hair in Medusa-like spikes.
JD stood up. “My travel bag still in the storage room?”
“Yes.”
JD eyed Lori, who was still sitting tapping keys on her laptop. “Something wrong?”
“I thought I was CEO of this company,” she said.
“Do you disagree with anything I’ve committed this company to this morning?”
“No.”
JD stood there watching her fingers flashing over the keys. I don’t have time for this, he thought, then tamped his anger down and said, “You’re right. We should have discussed it first, then you should have made both decisions.” JD put a smile on his face. “I’ll try to do better in the future.”
Lori stayed focused on what she was typing. “The next time a potential new client like Wolfe phones, will you refer him to me?”
JD tilted his head. “Yes. I will. New clients ask for me since I’ve been the face of ISO for twenty years. Once they’ve gotten to know you, the phone calls will be for you. It takes a little time.”
“Alright,” Lori said. Still no trace of a smile. “I’ve asked Allen to work tickets, visas, and passports for the team, and to get a box of armaments air-freighted to Banjul, Gambia, not Senegal.”
JD raised his eyebrows.
Lori’s dark eyes held his. “The Gambian authorities are much more bribe-receptive than the Senegalese. Allen’s not going to like coming in to the office on a moment’s notice. It is Sunday morning, you know.” She looked up at JD, then back at her screen, logging off and closing the computer. “Yes, you still have a travel bag in the storage room. I’ll unlock it.” She walked quickly down the corridor, and JD followed, sighing silently.
En route to Dulles Airport in the company car, JD got out his worldwide Iridium phone and called Flash in Lagos. The connection was surprisingly clear. “I know you must be heartbroken to leave Nigeria,” JD joked.
“Not heartbroken, but we’ll be glad to see home,” Flash said slowly. “No big problems, but four weeks of shift-on, shift-off is enough. There’s a lot of tension among the locals here. Lots of minor terrorist acts, driven by desperation and frustration rather than a thought-out plan. And that’s what makes them so dangerous for us. They are unpredictable—lot of stress on the team.”
“Well...there’s a situation in Senegal I want to take advantage of. New client, looks very lucrative, but it would mean you and Team One would fly directly from Nigeria to Banjul, Gambia, then cross the border to the Senegalese town of Asara. It’s faster than flying to Dakar and driving three hours down the coast.”
There was silence on the phone for a minute. “How long would we be in Senegal?” He could visualize Flash pushing his cowboy hat down low over his eyes as he thought this over.
“A week,” JD told him. “We’re to provide security for an offshore oil platform. Should be pretty straightforward. The platform is not in service yet, so I don’t expect there’ll be any trouble at all. The owner’s contracted with Maritime Security, but their men are delayed.”
“We’ve already shipped our gear back to the States...” Flash began.
“Lori’s air-expressing another box to Banjul,” JD countered. “It’ll be waiting for you at the airport.”
Again silence.
“And this should make you feel better: I’m authorizing premium pay for all of you until the Op is over.”
“That’s generous. ...but I need to talk to the team first,” Flash told him. “Still... I don’t expect there’ll be any objections. If you don’t hear from me within an hour, it means everybody’s agreed and we’re on our way.”
“Thanks!” JD said. “If Banjul immigration questions you, your story is that you are contract oil workers going to the offshore platform called ESTA-20, owned by Global Oil Investments—a British firm. Use the British passports you were using in Nigeria, and your World Tech Services IDs.” JD paused for effect. “An ocean tug will be waiting for you at the dock at Asara. It’s operated by an Australian firm called Cairn Energy. It will take you out to the platform.”
JD tilted seat 2A back and tried to put both Cheryl and Lori out of his mind. But he couldn’t.
He knew he was not treating either of them as he should. But dammit, in this business, you have to grab when the work comes your way, even if it is Sunday and you have plans to go into Washington and visit the National Gallery Vermeer show. And yes, I should have discussed all this with Lori before I made a commitment to Wolfe, but I didn’t. I’m used to making decisions fast. Sometimes you have to act based on instinct. Lori tries to do too much research. Clients are always in a hurry. They never call a PMC until the situation has gotten critical. I know I hurt Lori’s feelings this morning. But