Betrayal by John Lescroart Read Free Book Online Page A

was real and omnipresent. In Allstrong’s view, that risk should not go without significant reward, even if much of it turned out to be under the table. It wasn’t as though people like Ramsdale didn’t know what was happening. In fact, Ramsdale was planning to retire from the active military before the year was out, and he’d already made a commitment to stay on in Iraq as one of Allstrong’s senior security analysts at a salary of $240,000 per year.
    Standing over by his wall map, Allstrong caught the latest toss of the packet of bills from Nolan and turned it over in his hands. “So.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an answer. The tone seemed to say, I’m holding on to fifty thousand dollars in cash, when last year I was flat broke . He smiled. “How sweet is this, huh, Ron?”
    “Yes, sir.” Nolan tipped up his scotch. “It’s turning out to be a good year.”
    “Yes, it is.” Allstrong crossed over to his desk, casually flipping the wrapped bills package over to Nolan. “And I think it could be even better, but I’m leery of burning out my best assets, which are men like you. No, no, no, don’t give me any of that false modesty bullshit. I send you out to do a job and you get the job done. It’s not every guy in the world can walk around with two million dollars and not be tempted to disappear with it.”
    This was more than just idle chatter. That exact temptation, though for far less money—a quarter of a million dollars—had proven too strong for at least one of Allstrong’s other senior employees in the past two months. Beyond that, almost two dozen of his first crew of guard hires—from pre-Kuvan sources—had disappeared with guns and credentials almost as soon as they’d been issued them.
    But Ron Nolan merely shrugged. “You pay me well, Jack. I like the work. It’s nice to get a regular paycheck. Beyond which”—he broke his own smile—“I disappear with two million of your money, I’m pretty sure you’d hunt me down and kill me.”
    Allstrong pointed a finger at him. “You’re not all wrong there. Nothing personal.”
    “No, of course not.”
    Allstrong put a haunch on the corner of his desk. “What I’m getting at is whether you’re starting to feel stretched a little thin.”
    “No, I’m good.”
    “I ask because another opportunity has come up—I know, they’re growing on trees nowadays, but if I don’t pick ’em somebody else will. Anyway, I wanted to run it by you, see if you wanted to take point on it. I should tell you, I consider it pretty high risk, even for here.”
    “Taking a walk over here is high risk, Jack.”
    “Yes, it is. But this is in the Sunni Triangle.”
    Nolan tossed the package up and caught it. He shrugged. “What’s the gig?”
    “Pacific Safety—Rick Slocum’s outfit, he’s tight with Rumsfeld—just pulled in a contract through the Corps of Engineers to rewire the whole goddamn Triangle in three months. High-voltage wiring and all the towers to hold it. You ready for this? He’s going to need seven hundred guards for his people.”
    Nolan whistled. “Seven hundred?”
    “I know. A shitload. But I’m sure Kuvan can get ’em.”
    “I’m sure he can too. You gotta love them Kurds.”
    “Who doesn’t? So…you want to hear the numbers?”
    “Sure,” Nolan said. “I haven’t had a good hard-on in a couple of days.” With the wrapped bills in one hand and his tumbler of scotch in the other, he got up and crossed over to Allstrong’s desk.
    His boss pulled over the adding machine and started punching and talking. “Let’s assume two hundred a month for the guards, what we’re paying now. Good? We’ve got seven hundred guys working for ninety days, that’s four hundred twenty thousand. Plus food and ammo and other incidentals. Let’s go wild and call that twenty bucks a man per day, so forty-two grand. Shooting high, call our whole expense five hundred grand. Slocum told me off the record that because of the high