“So where’s he going now?”
“I was gonna fire him regardless, but then I realized that wasn’t enough. He might eventually end up somewhere he can do some real harm. I made him office-supply czar with a big title. Now he can’t cause any disasters except maybe a stapler shortage.”
“But won’t he just move on in a year or so?”
“That’s all I need. Like everyone else, he signed a privacy waiver. He’s been under surveillance a month and already documented with underage prostitutes and buying cocaine. Soon, I’ll have more than enough to leak to the press if he runs for so much as dog catcher.”
“The surveillance is legal but leaking it isn’t. Why tell me this, sir?”
“Because he’ll be around long after I’m dead. I’ll give you a copy of his file and rest easy knowing his balls are in the palm of your very capable hand. Can you live with that?”
“Yes, sir, I can.”
“Good, then we’re done.” He started to rise but stopped. “By the way, Gardner tried to snow me with some bullshit about ‘a rational and predictable enemy.’ Sounded familiar.”
Ward grinned. “It’s from a speech you gave. I knew he’d use it sooner or later.”
Like its legendary namesake, Phoenix Shipping rose from the ashes in temporary space with rented equipment, the hum of voices punctuated by ringing phones as monitors flashed atop a sea of cheap metal desks. Mrs. Coutts sat as gatekeeper to the closet-size cubicle of Mr. Thomas Dugan, acting managing director of Phoenix Shipping Ltd.
Dugan smiled out at the scene. Business was booming, and an able assist from MI5 hadn’t hurt, providing quiet assurance in the right ears that Alex had performed exemplary service to the Crown and that Her Majesty’s Government would take a dim view of allegations to the contrary. Claims on M/T Asian Trader were paid promptly and in full, and lines of credit were restored, and in most cases, increased.
Dugan left each night tired but happy, usually to meet Anna for dinner. They’d taken an apartment in Belgravia, and nothing had felt so right since that long-ago time when life was full of promise and he’d return from sea to find Ginny on the dock, laughing as she held up a sign reading HEY SAILOR. LOOKING FOR A GOOD TIME? Ginny would approve, he thought.
“Mr. Ward on line one, sir,” Mrs. Coutts said.
Dugan lifted the phone. “Jesse. How’s it going?”
“Good,” Ward said. “Better than good. We’ve formed a dedicated maritime-threat section. They’re letting me run it until I screw up.”
“Fantastic, Jesse, and well deserved.” Dugan paused. “What about that asshole Gardner?”
“Managing paper clips. He’s no longer a factor.”
“Well, that’s good. At least you won’t have to watch your back.”
“And speaking of watching things, you know how badly we need—”
“Stop right there, pal. I like what I’m doing.”
“Great,” Ward persisted. “Stay there. It’s perfect cover. We’ll make it worth Alex’s while financially, and you just keep your eyes and ears open. Piece of cake.”
“Let’s recap, shall we? The last time you said that, I was beaten by a crazy Panamanian, forced to jump out of a helicopter onto a moving ship, nearly washed overboard by gasoline, shot at, just escaped being blown up, and almost drowned. Oh yeah, I forgot the broken nose.”
“Nothing like that’s likely to happen again.”
“Damn right, because I’m not playing.”
“Just think about it, Tom. That’s all I ask.”
“Listen closely, Jesse. I — DO — NOT — WANT — TO — DO — THIS. Understood?”
“Just think about it. Talk to Anna. I’ll call back. Sorry, but the DDO is calling. Bye.”
Dugan stared at the receiver. Some friggin’ nerve, he thought as he hung up.
Five time zones away, Ward smiled. He’ll come around, he thought.
Dugan and Anna held hands under the table. Dinner had been pleasant, and Gillian seemed a different person from the hollow-eyed wraith that had haunted Alex’s bedside a month earlier. For that matter, she seemed a different person than she’d ever been. She had on a modest but stylish dress, obviously new, and most of the white had disappeared from her hair. Both she and Alex fairly glowed, trading sly smiles as Cassie seemed near bursting with some great secret. As they all finished coffee, Alex asked Mrs. Hogan and Daniel to join them and addressed the table, his voice raspy.
“We want you all to share a special moment. Recent events have been life changing, and they’ve led me to count my blessings” — he beamed at Cassie and Gillian—”and take some long-overdue action. I asked, and Gillian has done me the great honor of—”
“Mrs. Farnsworth’s gonna be my new mom,” Cassie blurted.
Alex sat bemused as Gillian struggled in vain to suppress a peal of laughter. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s what I was taking rather too long to say,” Alex said with a broad smile.
Dugan and Daniel rose and pumped Alex’s hand, while Anna and Mrs. Hogan beamed approval.
“Out with it,” Anna said, “the juicy details. When did this happen?”
Alex took Gillian’s hand. “When I realized what I’d overlooked for many years.”
“It caught me a bit off guard,” Gillian said, actually blushing.
“But to quote a very wise woman,” Dugan said, “’a lady is prepared for any eventuality.’ And you, Gillian, are, and always have been, a great lady to the bone.”
“Hear, hear.” Alex squeezed Gillian’s hand as Cassie held the other, and Gillian blinked back happy tears.
“Right, then,” she said, “there’s champagne chilling. Mrs. Hogan,” — she started to rise—”I’ll help with the glasses.”
She had to wipe away more tears as Cassie jumped up. “I’ll do it, Mom.”
After toasts, the ladies slipped away to discuss the wedding, and Alex led Dugan to the library. They sipped brandy in amicable silence until Alex spoke.
“Thomas, I’ll be spending more time at home. I need you here. As managing director and an equal partner. In addition to salary, of course.”
“Alex, that’s extremely generous. I don’t know what to say.”
“’Yes’ comes to mind.”
“If I agree, how do you see things structured?”
“You handle operational matters; I look after finances. A perfect team, really.”
Dugan stared into his glass. “Ward wants us to help the CIA. I said no, but I’m waffling.”
Alex chuckled. “He is persistent. As is Anna. They’ve both pressed me, you know.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Positively, as long as it places neither you nor my family at risk.”
“Agreed. Having the gratitude of the US and British governments is mighty helpful.”
“So you’re accepting my offer?”
Dugan smiled as he offered his hand. “I guess I am, partner.”
Concrete grated Braun’s knees as he lapped at the puddle, grateful for the leaky roof; rain water was cleaner than the murky liquid his jailers dispensed. Mold thickened the walls over his rotten, sodden mattress, and he’d long ago sacrificed his shirt and underwear as rags to keep himself as clean as possible. His ragged pants hung loose, a legacy of the gruel ladled into his bowl with indifferent frequency. He devoured the sludge, saving some to attract cockroaches and other protein, and saving some of those to bait up geckos and rats. His thin face, framed by a beard and greasy hair, smiled back from the puddle. He was a survivor.