Fifty-Seven

Michael powered up Ben’s laptop and logged on to the secure conferencing site that FSS used to conduct long-distance meetings. Using his partner’s laptop would make it less likely that the meeting would be monitored, but it wouldn’t make a difference in whether or not Leon Maddox would agree to speak to him.

“Hey,” Lark said from the doorway, a file folder in his hand. “I got that stuff Ben asked for.” He walked in and tossed the folder on the table next to the laptop. “Some pretty heavy shit in there. Shaw finds out we’re poking around in his business, ain’t none of us gonna make it outta this one. Junior included.”

He waited for Lark to make his exit before flipping the file open, but it didn’t take him long to realize he was right. If Shaw knew what they were up to—what they knew—he’d kill them all.

The laptop let out a chime a second before an image of who he was sure was the Senator’s aide filled the monitor, her flirty smile fading when she saw who was on the other side of the screen. “Oh, you’re not—”

“No, I’m not. Mr. Shaw is attending to other matters, so I’m keeping his appointment with the Senator,” he said, carefully avoiding the use of his name. Maddox might know who Michael was, but that didn’t mean his staff did.

“Let me see if the Senator is available.” She placed him on hold, the display going dark.

Michael sat back, swiping a hand over his face. Knowing Shaw, he was already halfway here. He didn’t have time to sit around while some politician decided to grace him with his presence or not.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, scrolling the mouse pad over the disconnect icon.

“I agree, Mr. O’Shea.”

He winced, looking up to see Leon Maddox staring at him from Ben’s computer screen. “Sir. I was just—”

“Going to hang up on me, so let’s cut the crap, shall we?” Maddox barked, his tone brusque. “I was expecting you and Mr. Shaw to arrive yesterday afternoon. I take it from the San Francisco area code that you were waylaid by what I can only imagine to be a break in my grandson’s disappearance.”

“Yes, sir. Ben received a report from a contact of his that a young boy matching Leo’s description was found in an abandoned house.” He didn’t know how to say the rest. He’d never had to do this before.

“Is he dead?” Maddox said plainly, his gruff words at complete odds with the stark grief in his eyes.

“No, sir. The boy that was found isn’t your grandson. But I’ve managed to identify Leo’s abductor. Alberto Reyes.” He nearly choked on the words and the look Maddox gave him when he said them.

“Alberto Reyes. The head of the Moreno cartel. Your former boss.” Maddox’s expression went from wary to downright hostile. “And how did you come upon that information?”

He sighed. “I happened to get a lead on where he’s basing his operations here in San Francisco, and I paid them a visit. I’m sure you’re aware of how persuasive I can be when I’m properly motivated.”

Maddox narrowed his eyes and leaned in to the camera just a bit. “Just what are your motivations, Mr. O’Shea? A man like you—my grandson’s welfare is hardly of any importance.”

“A man like me, sir?” He nearly bit the words in half.

“I know what you’ve done. Who you’ve done it for,” Maddox said. “Why Livingston put you in charge of Leo’s recovery is a mystery.”

“That would be the question, wouldn’t it?” Michael glanced at the file folder spread out next to the computer and decided to go for broke. “When did you get word about your appointment to head Appropriations Committee B1217, sir? This morning? Maybe late last night?”

The Senator visibly stiffened, his eyes narrowing on the screen. “That information is classified. How did you—”

“You’re right. It is classified. So classified that the committee itself doesn’t even officially exist and only three people are involved in choosing its chair,” Michael said. “And yet, Livingston Shaw has known about your pending appointment for weeks now.”

Appropriations Committee B1217. The committee that would be charged with reviewing and approving how and where the government’s black budget was spent. An estimated eighty-five billion dollars, used to fund military research programs and covert operations that Uncle Sam didn’t want his citizens to know about. It also funded the country’s growing dependence on privatized military companies. According to the dirt Lark dug up, Livingston Shaw and FSS were attached to well over half of the programs and operations that would be up for approval, to the tune of fifty billion dollars.

“What are you saying? That Livingston had my grandson kidnapped in order to force me into giving his company government contracts?” Maddox said, practically spitting the words out of his mouth. “If that’s so, then where are his demands? The committee meets in three days; surely he’d have made his move by now.”

“Demands?” he laughed, causing the Senator to bristle even more. “This is Livingston Shaw we’re talking about—he’ll simply return Leo to you, unharmed, in the nick of time and let your conscience be your guide.”

“He’s got the largest privatized military operation in the world at his disposal. Why hire a two-bit drug lord to do his dirty work?” Leon said, still trying to punch holes in a theory that was quickly becoming fact.

“If you were going to kidnap the grandson of a US Senator, would you do it yourself or would you hire someone to do it for you?” Michael sighed, running a rough hand over his head before settling it on the back of his neck. “There was no money exchanged. No payment. It was a handshake deal as far as I can tell—no way to tie it back to Shaw if things went sideways.”

“Then why? If not for money, then what? What could Livingston give Reyes that would be worth the risk of kidnapping my Leo?”

“Me. Reyes has been looking for a way to kill me for a very long time,” Michael said quietly. “You wanted to know why Livingston would put me in charge of finding your grandson; there’s your answer. Revenge.”

Michael told him everything. He started at the beginning, with him and his unit getting sent to Colombia to help Marisol Ramos and her team disable Mateo Moreno’s fleet of drug subs and the ambush that followed and ending with his agreeing to work for Livingston Shaw.

Through it all, Maddox listened. When Michael was done, Maddox sat back in his chair, a look of betrayed defeat on his weathered face. “The appointment system was put in place to keep things like this from happening.”

“If I’ve learned anything over the last several years, it’s that anyone can be bought. Money. Secrets. Silence. Everyone has a price, and people like Alberto Reyes and Livingston Shaw have a knack for sniffing them out and exploiting them.”

“What about you, Mr. O’Shea? What’s your price these days?”

He thought of Sabrina. What he’d be willing to do to be allowed to stay with her. How far he’d go to earn the privilege to lay down next to her every night. “What I want, no one can give me—not even you,” he said, scrolling the mouse over to the disconnect icon.

“So where does that leave me? Where does that leave Leo?”

Michael looked up to find Maddox watching him. “I’m going to go get him and bring him home, sir,” he said. “I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it, whatever the cost.”