8

Harbor Petroleum is the nation’s largest privately owned extraction and refinery corporation. Turnover stands at just under eight billion per annum. We specialize in high-risk regions. We operate fields in Algeria, Libya, Azerbaijan, and Mongolia. Our refineries are in Nigeria, China, and Kazakhstan.”

Charlie sat beside Reese in the rear seat. He was positioned behind the general, who was clearly displeased to be treated as the second guest. Strang sat ramrod straight, eyes never diverting from the front windshield, body radiating resentment.

“We are the only American oil company still operating in Venezuela,” Reese continued. “We also maintain joint ventures with the governments of Burma and Russia and Georgia. We are currently exploring new fields in the disputed waters off the coast of Turkish Cyprus and in the Chechen hills.”

Charlie had the impression that Reese was enjoying Strang’s ire. She occasionally gave a brief smile in the general’s direction. Then she turned back to Charlie and continued talking.

But not before she gave him the look.

Her eyes were the color of dawn through a winter fire, more blue than grey, and sparked with a feral wit. Her right hand rested on the seat between them. Her fingers caressed the leather, the motions bringing her fingers close enough to touch Charlie’s trousers. Every now and then she would stop talking and touch her tongue to her lips, as though she wanted to taste a certain word, as though another thought was crowding into her mouth. When she did, she gripped the soft leather seat, clawing it with her nails. Watching Charlie with those hot-cold eyes as she did.

Charlie had known since his Army days that certain women were drawn to the scent of hidden danger. But they were not normally women in limos, with security details of their own, sent to ferry the hired help back for a corporate meet and greet.

His attention was caught by the driver lifting his shirtsleeve and speaking into a mic attached to his watch band. “Beta One to CC. Inbound at one.”

Instantly the woman’s hand gyrations might have been in another state. Specialist military assault squads often sectioned themselves into Alpha and Beta teams. Such teams referred to headquarters as CC, which stood for combat controller.

Sending a cluster of former military pros to a Texas airport with a lone woman, no matter how fine the package, was a curious thing.

Harbor Petroleum’s headquarters was a block off the main port, rimmed by smokestacks and oil-sized pipelines and holding tanks. The water washing against the breakwater was scummy and the color of dirty copper. The building was a solid cube of black glass and gleamed like an opal set beside a sludge pit. High overhead, the company’s initials were framed by a pair of oil rigs that spouted umbrellas of gold.

As soon as Charlie opened his door, the air stank with sulfur. But the general had regained his good humor. He rose from the SUV, took a deep breath, and declared, “Smells like money to me.”

The man waiting for them by the corporate entrance was a bulldog, built close to the ground and solid as a concrete block. “General Strang, I’m Weldon Hawkins. Welcome to Harbor Petroleum.” He turned his attention to Charlie. “You must be Hazard.”

“Affirmative, sir.” Charlie suspected Hawkins was a former Marine. Or rather, no longer in that branch’s active service. Marines liked to say they never stopped being one. Hawkins was hard as nails and merciless as the Texas heat. Handshake to match.

“Why don’t we seek shelter.” Hawkins marched them through a vast marble-clad foyer, up a central staircase, and into a conference room. A young man stood at a civilian’s semblance of attention by a fully stocked bar. “Anything you gentlemen care for in the way of supplies?”

“We’re good to go, sir.”

Hawkins said to the young man, “You’re dismissed.”

The young man touched a keypad and the bar disappeared behind a mother-of-pearl shoji screen. Charlie noted the security had vanished.

Hawkins said, “What say we dispense with the niceties, gentlemen.”

Strang settled into a chair. “I’ve got nothing but the highest respect for a man who values his seconds.”

“We’re facing obstacles and multiple threats. Two of our frontline execs in Bogotá have recently been kidnapped and are being held for ransom. We can’t afford another such incident. We maintain the highest degree of professionalism in our ranks because we pay the best wages and we take our people’s safety very seriously.”

Strang said, “We maintain what I feel is the best hunter-seeker team in the business. I’d be happy to offer their services.”

“Thank you, General. But that matter is already being taken care of. What we want to discuss with you is how we can ensure this never happens again.”

Charlie said, “Your people seem professional.”

“They’re overstretched. What’s more, we don’t want to maintain a full cadre of our own. You read me?”

Strang said, “Maintaining an in-house fighting force is not your business.”

“Right the first time.” Hawkins crossed his arms. “You’ve got ninety seconds, General. Impress me.”

This was what Strang lived for. “Our risk assessment detail will be inbound in seventy-two hours. We’ll scope your frontline positions. Three roving units will be shoring up your weakest points forty-eight hours later. We’ll work with your local security details and bring them up to speed. At that point—call it two weeks from today—you and I will meet again. I will give you a full report. This will include all the points where we feel you need a semi-permanent squad in place.” Strang glanced over. “You have anything to add, Hazard?”

Charlie said, “We’ll immediately set up four units on short-term travel details. It’s probably not required. But such a high-profile move will assure your frontline personnel that you’ve brought the risk under control.”

Hawkins glanced at Reese. The pair shared a nod. Hawkins said, “It’s good to hear our word about you is on target, General. Here are our terms. We know your job is to sell your company, and we have no problem with that. Somebody has to run the head office. But we want to know that the man you leave behind will maintain these high standards.”

“All of my risk assessment teams are the best in the business.”

“We’ve done our own research and we’ve settled on the man we want running the show. First day to last.” Hawkins used his chin to point across the table. “Either your man Hazard is top gun, or there’s no deal.”

Strang frowned with his entire being. “We try not to tie down any—”

“That was a take-it-or-leave-it offer, General.” Hawkins rose to his feet. “I’ll leave my associate to iron out the details.”

Strang gave the air a moment to settle, then said, “I didn’t catch the gentleman’s corporate title.”

Reese replied, “Weldon Hawkins is whatever he wants to be.”

When Reese offered to take them on a tour of headquarters, Charlie excused himself and slipped outside. The visible security detail had dropped to one man seated behind the wheel of a lone SUV. The massive vehicle was parked where it could slip forward and block access to the main doors. Charlie walked over to the rocky breakwater and pulled out his phone. He dialed the number from memory and said, “Glenda Gleeson, please. This is Charlie Hazard.”

“Oh, Mr. Hazard, it’s so good to hear from you.”

Charlie searched his memory and came up with Gleeson’s PA. “Rachel?”

“Glenda was just saying the other day how much she missed you. She’s going to be so happy to hear you called. Unfortunately, she’s on location for a shoot and will be gone all day. She’s on the cover of the next Vogue and they’re behind schedule—”

“Rachel, Glenda said if I ever needed her, I could reach out. Day or night.”

The woman did not remain chief aide to one of Hollywood’s hottest stars without knowing how to distill dire need from ego. “Mr. Hazard, Glenda will want to know if this is a genuine emergency.”

“Every second counts.”

“Please remain on the line, Mr. Hazard.”

Charlie endured the heat and the stench. The oily water lapped at the rocks by his feet. Finally he heard a series of clicks. Then a voice that fueled a generation of male lust said, “Charlie? Is it really you?”

“How’s it going, Glenda?”

“You bad, bad boy. I throw myself at your feet, and you walk away. Then I don’t hear anything for months. How dare you keep me waiting.”

“Oh. Like you were pining for this call.”

“You should see the tearstains on my pillow.”

Charlie smiled. “Liar.”

“Rachel said it was an emergency.”

“What can you tell me about Reese Clawson?”

There was a fractional silence, then a very different woman said carefully, “Reese is a fine person.”

He sensed that she was not surprised by his call. “This is me asking, Glenda.”

She breathed hard. “I don’t know anything.”

“She claims you were friends.”

“We rented a house together with six other students for two years. Reese was an extremely smart kid. Ambitious. Very political. She campaigned for several politicians. Did her honors thesis on her first national convention. Then she basically dropped out of sight.”

When Glenda stopped, Charlie supplied, “She was recruited.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“CIA?”

“Something highly secretive. She loved it, I can tell you that much. She adored being part of something clandestine. Everything changed the summer between her junior and senior year. Reese went off for training. When she came back, she moved into a house on the other side of town. I saw her a couple of times after that. But she never spoke again about what she did. She resigned from all political activities. From that summer on, all I ever saw was the mask. We drifted apart. End of story.”

Charlie said, “She says you told her about me.”

“That is both true and not true. The first time I’d heard from her in eight years was four days ago.”

“So she asked about me, instead of the other way around.”

“Oh, believe you me, she wanted to know everything about you. She made me walk through the trouble in Chad twice.”

“It went down on the Sudanese side of the border.”

“Not according to the papers. Are you in trouble, Charlie?”

“You know me, Glenda.”

“Meaning you’re not able to talk.”

“Roger that.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you happen to know Gabriella McLaren?”

“Interesting name. Doesn’t ring any bells.”

“McLaren is her married name. Gabriella is Italian. From Milan.”

“Maybe she’s known professionally by her maiden name.”

“I have no idea what that might be.”

“It’s not much to go on, Charlie. I’ll have Rachel check, but I’m doubtful. Is she tied into this?”

Because it was Glenda asking, he replied, “There’s no logical reason to think so. But my gut says affirmative.”

“Should I be jealous?”

He smiled at the waters. “Absolutely.”

“Will you call me later and tell me what’s going on?”

“Most definitely.”

He heard her smile. “Liar.”