Марк Грини - One Minute Out

He wasn’t worried about rebelliousness, about defiance. At the moment, Cage knew, the girl sat aboard Kostas Kostopoulos’s yacht, getting mind-fucked by Dr. Claudia Riesling. He knew Riesling would rid her of part of her rebelliousness, and he’d rid her of the balance of it himself when she got here.

So now the girl was on her way. He didn’t remember what she told him her name was—there were so many women he met on his recruiting trips, after all—but he’d been told Riesling was calling her Maja. She, the Thai, the Indonesian, and the Hungarian would be the newest members of Rancho Esmerelda, just seventy minutes north of the Hollywood Hills, and he and his protection detail would make the drive up there whenever he could get away from his duties at home and at work.

His thoughts returned to his present surroundings, but only until he saw his personal protection agent, Sean Hall, step out of the two-thousand-square-foot pool house tucked deep into lush landscaping on the other side of the patio. The wiry and tan blond made his way purposefully along a small fieldstone footpath, past a pair of koi ponds, and towards the family he protected. He had iPhone EarPods in his ears, and his gesticulations as he walked suggested to Cage that the ex–Navy SEAL was fully engaged in conversation.

Ken looked down at his watch and saw it was not yet eight. Hall didn’t normally report in till nine thirty.

The two men made eye contact and Hall ended his call, pulled out the EarPods, and stepped onto the patio.

Charlotte, Ken’s sixteen-year-old daughter, sat on a lounge chair by the pool away from her parents. “Hey, Sean. You been surfing?”

He kept walking, but smiled as he replied. “As much as I can. You’ve been practicing on your board?”

“A little bit,” she said unconvincingly.

“Waves have been up at Zuma Beach. We’re still going next Wednesday morning, right?”

“Yeah, I’m down,” she replied, and then Charlotte returned her attention to her phone.

Sean passed and high-fived twelve-year-old Juliet, also on her phone on a lounge chair, and waved across the pool to seven-year-old Justin, who sat watching a YouTube video on his iPad.

Ken Cage’s head of security stepped up to his table, and Heather finally took her eyes off her tablet. “You’re early. Want me to get Isabella to bring you out some coffee so you can join us?”

The forty-year-old shook his head. “I’m good, but thanks. I just need to talk to the boss here a second.”

“Then you both are starting work early this morning, I guess.” She said it with an admonishing tone, but it was clearly focused on Ken and not Sean.

Cage saw a serious look on his bodyguard’s face, so when Heather’s eyes drifted back down to her device, Ken jerked his head towards the house. Hall nodded, indicating that whatever he had to say did, in fact, need to be said in private.

Cage finished the last of his coffee in a swig as he stood. “Just give me a couple minutes. I’ll be right back.”

His wife replied, “Ask Isabella if she can bring me a refill.”

“Will do, honey.”

The fifty-four-year-old entered his home office a minute later, followed by his security chief. As soon as he made it to his desk, Cage glanced down at his computer screens, getting his first look of the day at the international markets. While taking in the data, he said, “Heather kicks me in the nuts when I work before nine, Sean. Make it quick.”

Hall shut the door to the office. “Can we get the white noise?”

Without looking, Cage reached for the remote next to him and tapped a button, and the ambient noise on the high-end entertainment system came on. Still looking over the markets, he said, “What’s got you so fired up this morning?”

Hall said, “I spoke with Verdoorn a few minutes ago.”

“That’ll do it.”

“He’s . . . he’s concerned about this clown who has been attacking points along the pipeline.”

Distractedly, Cage said, “Believe me. I’ve been made aware.”

“Right. Sir, in light of all the information he’s provided me . . . I’m going to go ahead and suggest we cancel your trip to Italy tonight.”

Cage swiveled his gaze away from his monitors quickly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jaco has filled me in on some of this threat’s career exploits. He’s the real deal. The Albanians didn’t stop him in Croatia, the danger to the pipeline seems to be ongoing, and until White Lion puts a lid on it, I feel like it’s in our best interests to curb your travel into that theater of operations.”

Cage rolled his eyes. “Theater of operations? It’s a fucking tourist trap where we’re going.”

“For tourists, it is. But for you, sir, it’s an unnecessary security risk.”

Cage sighed like a child, then sat down at his massive desk and swiveled his chair so he could face his phone. “We’re calling Jaco right now.” He punched numbers, then waited. He neither knew nor cared what time it was over in wherever the hell Jaco was.

He put the call on speaker and the two men listened to it ring in silence.

After a click and a pause, they heard, “Verdoorn.”

“Encrypted,” Cage said, and Verdoorn replied.

“Confirming encrypted. Hello, sir.”

“You’ve got Sean here saying he wants me to cancel my trip.”

The South African had clearly been expecting the call. He replied, “I think that would be best.”

Cage sighed again, louder, slower, and more dramatically this time. “So some asshole running around in Croatia has control over my itinerary now? Telling me where I can and cannot go? Is that it?”

Verdoorn replied patiently. “He’s not just some asshole, sir. He—”

“Are you telling me you don’t have this situation under control?”

“Yes, sir. I am telling you that, exactly. And until we do, I need you to stay away from this area. If it were anyone else, he’d already be dead and in the dirt. But he’s the Gray Man.”

Now Cage shouted with rage. “I don’t give a shit what color that motherfucker is! No one is going to get in the way of my business interests. I run this show! I do!”

It was silent for several seconds, and then Verdoorn’s disembodied voice resumed. “Hall? I believe this is where you chime in.”

Sean Hall was clearly more intimidated by his boss than Verdoorn was. He nodded to the phone, then looked to Cage. “Sir, sorry for pointing this out. But the fact is, your business doesn’t have anything to do with why you want to go to Venice. The market would continue with or without you. I understand you want to meet with some of the players, but at the end of the day this is a personal vacation, and I don’t see why we should risk—”

Cage interrupted. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing from you two chickenshits.”

Hall said, “Sir . . . it’s not fear, it’s risk management. We take threats seriously. I understand you want to retain free movement, despite the—”

Cage waved his hand in the air wildly. “I’m going to Italy. This asshole doesn’t know who I am, or that I even exist. Verdoorn, you and your shit-hot South African badasses will take care of the Gray Man, and Hall, you and your shit-hot American badasses will protect me while I’m there if Verdoorn doesn’t do his job. Am I understood by you both?”

Hall made no reply, but Verdoorn had some fight left in him on the matter. “The merchandise going to market in Venice. You’ve examined the best of the lot. We can have it over to you in just a couple of days. Stay home this time, boss.”

The short bald man launched to his feet now. “Jesus Christ, I’m surrounded by pussies!” Though he was four full inches shorter than Hall, he jabbed a finger in the man’s muscular chest as he spoke, his words meant for both the man in front of him and the man on the phone. “You two need to grow some fucking balls and do your jobs!”