Danger Close

by James P. Sumner

  Jericho and Julie looked at him, then turned to Buchanan, genuinely intrigued.

  Buchanan didn’t hesitate. “It’s our problem because we can fix it. I’m not sure anybody else could. It’s way beyond being a local matter, which rules out the cops. Because of Orion’s connection to it, the Feds would be too scared to sneeze within a mile of Tristar’s offices. What’s left of them, anyway. Anything to avoid a decade of legal battles. Nobody else can do this. And if we can but choose to not to… hell, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

  Collins shrugged. “Okay. Fair point.”

  “Do you think that will work?” asked Jericho. “Taking the corporate approach?”

  “Can’t hurt. And honestly… I’m running out of options. We only know half the story here. We know the who but not the why. And the bits we do know, we can’t use because we exploited the freedom we have been gifted and bent the rules a bit too much. So, I’m giving this a shot.”

  Silence fell inside the office.

  It was broken after a few moments by Julie. “What can we do?”

  Buchanan sat upright and began moving the remaining folders around on his desk.

  “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “I have three jobs. You get one each.”

  Collins raised his hand. “If ya have one that involves two weeks of recon in St. Lucia, I’d like to volunteer myself…”

  Buchanan cast him a disapproving glance but ignored the comment. Instead, he picked up a folder and handed it to Jericho.

  “Probably the highest profile client we’ve ever had,” he said. “President Miguel Lucas Herrera.”

  “President?”

  “Yes, he’s the president of Paluga, and he’s just spent a significant amount of their GDP to hire two thousand of our personnel with no end date.”

  “Where the hell’s Paluga?” asked Collins. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s an island nation about thirty miles off the coast of Uruguay,” said Julie.

  Collins looked at her blankly.

  She shrugged. “What? I like geography.”

  “What’s happening in Paluga that requires such a show of force?” inquired Jericho.

  “Herrera took office three months ago. The first democratically elected president the country has ever seen. He’s spent every day since his appointment trying to undo three generations of dictatorship.”

  “He sounds like a good man.”

  “He is. Unfortunately, his policies have divided the people, and there’s been almost non-stop rioting for the last three weeks.”

  “So, he wants GlobaTech for crowd control? Surely, we would do that for free as U.N. Peacekeepers?”

  Buchanan shook his head. “No, he wants us for protection. It’s not just his people that are divided. His military forces are too.”

  “He’s concerned about a coup,” observed Julie.

  “That’s right,” said Buchanan. “He wants our people to work with those still loyal to him to help bring some stability to the region. If necessary, we’ll have to go up against his own army to maintain the peace long enough for laws to be passed and changes to be made. If we went in on behalf of the U.N., we could only do so after the shit hits the fan. To be there pre-emptively, it’s all us.”

  “You weren’t kidding about there being no end date,” said Jericho. “This could take years.”

  “It could, but I’m hoping it won’t. I want you to head up our efforts over there for the first few weeks. Get the men settled and organized. Work with President Herrera’s team to ensure protocols are in place that guarantee his safety.”

  Jericho straightened. Old habits of standing to attention when being given an order still hadn’t gone away.

  “When do I leave?” he asked.

  “Wheels up in two hours.”

  Jericho nodded. “Permission to leave and prep?”

  Buchanan rolled his eyes and smiled. “I ain’t your CO, soldier. But yeah, go do your thing.”

  Jericho turned and looked at Julie, who smiled weakly. He placed a hand on her arm and stepped past her, pausing only to shake Collins’s hand on the way out.

  When the door closed, Buchanan looked at Julie. He smiled, trying to offer comfort. “You’ll have chance to say your goodbyes. Don’t worry.”

  She felt her cheeks flush with color.

  “Thank you,” she said, glancing away.

  “The next task I have involves one of you representing GlobaTech at a meeting in Washington.”

  “What type of meeting?” asked Collins. “The boring kind? Because if so, I reckon Jules would love it.”

  Julie shot him a glare that would have turned a lesser man to stone. He chuckled nervously.

  Buchanan sighed. “The kind of meeting that isn’t happening. The kind of meeting where the attendees aren’t really there. The kind of meeting no one needs to know about.”

  “Sounds kinda exciting, actually.” said Collins.

  “I’m glad you think so. You’re going.”

  Collins frowned. “Me?”

  Julie gestured to him with her thumb. “Him?”

  Buchanan nodded. “Ray, I’m sending you. I’ll explain why before you go. I’m going to ask you to step outside for a moment. When I’m finished here, I’ll brief you privately on the nature of the meeting, who some of the attendees are, and the reason you’re going.”

  His sudden change of tone took both Julie and Collins by surprise. They exchanged a look and shrugged to each other.

  “Ah… sure thing, boss,” said Collins.

  He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Julie looked around, feeling a little awkward. The uncertainty on her face was matched only by the raw emotion of the last few days, which she was nowhere near ready to shake off. She stood tall, her hands clasped discreetly in front of her. Stoic and proud. No one would know just by looking at her how completely the heartache she felt consumed her.

  “Miss Fisher, I need you to do something important for me,” said Buchanan.

  She took a deep breath, puffing out her chest. “Of course.”

  His expression softened. His brow relaxed. “I need you to take a week off.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  “I know you’re hurting. I know the pain you’re trying to process. I needed you back here today because you lead the most elite unit of operatives this company has. You needed to know everything we know about Tristar. You needed to know what I was sending Jericho to do. But I’m not a monster. I want you to take some time off. Go home and be with your family.”

  She relaxed a little. “Sir, I’m grateful for your concern, honestly. But I’m better off here. Distracted, doing what I’m good at… what I love. I want to work. I want to help.”

  Buchanan stood. “You seem to be under the impression I was asking.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.

  “I don’t want you here just to be distracted,” he continued. “The grief won’t go away just because you ignore it. It never does. The hole that’s been left inside… that will always be there. Trust me, I know. But taking the time to process that grief is the only way you learn how to live with the loss. Until you start doing that, you’re no use to me here. You’re an incredibly smart woman, Miss Fisher. You know I’m right.”

  She looked away as a tear escaped down her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away, sniffed back the emotion, and looked at Buchanan. “Did you say I’ll have time to say goodbye to Jericho?”

  Buchanan nodded. “Of course. Go spend some time with him. Then go home. I’ll call you in a week and see how you’re doing, okay?”

  “Thank you, sir. I… I appreciate it.”

  He walked around his desk and stood in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, like a father would to his daughter. “Listen to me, Julie. No one thinks any less of you for not being strong twenty-four-seven. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Certainly not to me or your team. It’s okay to not be o
kay every now and then, hmm?”

  She placed a hand on his and nodded. “That means a lot to me, Moses. Thank you.”

  He smiled. “No problem. Now go on, get out of here. And send Ray in, would you?”

  “Sure thing.” She walked over to the door but paused to look back before she opened it. “Are you… sure you want to send Ray to something like that?”

  Buchanan laughed. “Trust me, Miss Fisher. He’s perfect for the job.”

  She smiled back and left. Outside, Collins was perched on the edge of Kim’s desk, flirting with her. As usual, Kim was loving every second of it.

  “Hey, Romeo, you’re up,” said Julie as she passed by.

  She didn’t look back but heard the door to Buchanan’s office close. She checked her watch. She had maybe an hour before Jericho had to get ready and leave. She wiped away another tear and headed for the barracks.

  There was no time to waste.

  3

  Two hours passed like seconds. Buchanan had bounced from one conference call to another after Collins left for Washington. With the final document signed, he stared at the pen in his hand. It was black and gold, with the letters J.W. engraved in the middle. He had found it in the drawer on his first day in the job and kept it ever since.

  He gazed at the initials of his predecessor. It was Josh who had told him that the higher you got promoted, the less work you did, and the more work you got to delegate.

  He smiled to himself and muttered, “Lying bastard.”

  His intercom buzzed, pulling him back to reality. He pressed the flashing button.

  “Yes?”

  “Sir, your five o’clock is here,” said Kim from outside. “Should I send him in?”

  Buchanan took a deep breath. “Yeah, please. And no calls or interruptions during this one, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Buchanan stood and straightened his tie, neatened the collar of his shirt, and tucked it properly into his pants. He lifted the suit jacket from the back of his chair and slid it over his barreled frame as the door opened.

  Kim gestured the visitor inside. The man strode in with all the confidence of someone who was used to owning whatever room he entered. His thin, white hair bounced on his head as he walked. He was north of sixty. Not overweight, but his days of being called slim were behind him. His navy blue suit was freshly pressed and shining.

  Kim closed the door behind her as she left. Buchanan stepped around his desk and extended a hand.

  “Mr. Hall, thank you for coming,” he said.

  The man shook it firmly. “Quincy, please. And thank you for the invite, Mr. Buchanan.”

  “Moses.” He gestured to the chair facing his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Your secretary’s a hell of a girl, isn’t she?” said Hall, sitting down. “I bet you keep her working late as often as possible, eh? Am I right?”

  Buchanan smiled politely. “Not unless I have to,” he replied. “She’s an extremely qualified and capable woman, but she has a life outside of these walls.”

  Hall grinned, sensing he had struck a nerve like a shark smelling blood in the water. He retrieved a cigar from inside his suit jacket and gestured with it to Buchanan. “Do you mind?”

  “Actually, yes. There’s no smoking in the building.”

  Hall laughed and took out a lighter. “Rules don’t really apply to men like us, though. Am I right?”

  Buchanan held his gaze as he leaned forward slightly in his seat. When he spoke, he remained friendly but didn’t hide his assertiveness. “My rules apply to everyone who comes into my house, Mr. Hall. No smoking.”

  Hall’s smile faded. He put the cigar and lighter away. “Fair enough, Mr. Buchanan. So, you care to tell me what this meeting is about? I don’t usually take meetings without an agenda.”

  Buchanan relaxed back into his seat. “I wanted to meet with you as a courtesy. One… megacorporation to another. Thought we might be able to help each other out.”

  Hall frowned. “How so?”

  “Tristar Security. Their issues, while tragic, have been a well-publicized and messy problem for all concerned.”

  “I saw the siege in New York on the news last week,” he said, shrugging. “Awful business.”

  “Indeed. GlobaTech has been involved in tying up some loose ends, shutting down what remained of Tristar’s illegal operations as a favor to the FBI. Key members of the board have gone to ground. Once the grunt work is finished, there will be one hell of a legal battle, I imagine.”

  Hall nodded. “Most likely. But what’s this have to do with me?”

  “Well, since Tristar is owned by Orion International, I figured it would serve us both well if I shared everything we had about what they were really doing. Orion being as public as it is, I thought you would jump at the chance to sort all the paperwork out yourself and keep it out of the media spotlight.”

  Hall said nothing. His eyes glazed over as he traced one of the hard creases that defined his face with a finger, seemingly lost in thought.

  Buchanan watched him, trying to decide if he had pushed too hard too quickly. There was no concrete proof or logical reason why Orion would be directly involved in anything Tristar did. The black ops, the kidnappings, the arms trafficking… not exactly calling cards of a media conglomerate. This meeting was about genuine professional courtesy between two of the biggest corporate entities the world had ever seen. Yet Hall’s reaction seemed odd.

  “Mr. Hall?” said Buchanan.

  Hall refocused. “You’re certain Tristar are one of Orion’s assets?”

  Buchanan raised an eyebrow and played along. “They’re owned by a holding company which is a subsidiary of Orion International, yes. I assumed you would’ve known that?”

  “Moses, Orion owns hundreds of corporate assets, which themselves own numerous companies. We employ people to handle acquisitions of all sizes. The board doesn’t involve themselves in every detail of the day-to-day running of things. Surely, you’re the same?”

  “Actually, no. I’m CEO and have a board of directors that report to me. They manage the day-to-day stuff here, but I know everything about all of it. I’m a hands-on kind of guy.”

  “I see. Well, I certainly appreciate the courtesy. What information do you have? Like you say, if Orion is exposed in some way, or if there are any pending legal issues that need to be dealt with, we would much prefer to keep this out of the press.”

  Buchanan slid a file across the desk. “I thought so. It’s all in there. Proof of arms trafficking. Witness statements and photographic evidence of kidnapping. Industrial espionage. Illegal overseas operations. A list of people involved, both in custody with the FBI and still unaccounted for following the siege. Basically, enough detail that The Hague will think Christmas has come early.”

  Hall flicked through the contents of the folder without pausing long enough on each page to really look at what was written on it.

  “What about the siege itself?” asked Hall.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I heard a rumor that the gunman who stormed the building and killed all those people was one of yours.”

  “Really? And where did you hear that?”

  Hall shrugged. “We own three of the biggest news networks in the western hemisphere. There were a number of reports that day…”

  Buchanan nodded. “There were. But I can assure you, the man responsible wasn’t one of ours and is being sought just as urgently as the remaining Tristar personnel.”

  The two men held each other’s gaze for a moment.

  Hall held up the file. “Is this everything you have on Tristar?”

  Buchanan paused, momentarily considering whether he should mention the stolen intel from Tristar’s servers. But he decided against it.

  “It is,” he said. “Like I said, we want to help you out if we can.”

  “I see. And what will GlobaTech want in return?”

  Buchanan shook his head. “I don’t follow…�
�

  “You’re offering your hard-earned information to a competitor out of the goodness of your heart and want nothing from us?”

  “I’m sorry. How exactly are we competitors?”

  “Orion and GlobaTech are cut from the same cloth, Mr. Buchanan. Both started small and grew to become giants of industry.”

  “Yes, but very different industries.”

  “Well, we’re both in private security, right?” said Hall, smirking and gesturing to the file.

  Buchanan smiled back. “A fact you learned only moments ago, apparently. Besides, Tristar and GlobaTech aren’t exactly competitors.”

  “How so?”

  “We are much, much bigger.”

  Buchanan continued to smile. Hall’s expression hardened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  Buchanan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Quincy, if there’s something you’re not telling me that might help resolve the Tristar issue faster, I would be grateful if you shared.”

  Hall stood, almost leaping to his feet. His body tensed. The folder crinkled in his grip.

  “You know what your problem is, Moses?” he spat.

  Buchanan held his hands up and shrugged. “Enlighten me, Quincy.”

  “You have ideas above your station. You’re arrogant. You think you’re invincible.”

  “Well, I don’t… I’m not… and we basically privatized the U.N., so yeah… maybe a little bit.”

  Hall laughed scornfully. “Oh, Mr. Buchanan, you have no idea what game you’re playing here.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Hall used the folder to point at Buchanan. “This is your only warning. GlobaTech will, with immediate effect, cease all efforts to apprehend Tristar personnel and seize Tristar assets. Orion International will deal with this matter in-house.”

  “And what exactly are you going to do? I doubt your news anchors will be able to track down the missing director. What was his name? Brandon Crow? We can help.”