Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
The man’s name is Danny Kowalski and his dossier was sent to me digitally by Josie. Thirty-eight. Army ranger, two tours in Afghanistan, one in Syria. Joined Jameson Las Vegas six years ago, left after eighteen months for SAPG. Kynan hadn’t elaborated on the circumstances of the departure, just said it was amicable, that Kowalski was good at what he did and had taken an offer to move back to the Pacific Northwest where he’d grown up.
He comes through the entrance precisely at eight p.m. with assured confidence. Medium height, broad through the shoulders and a military haircut. He’s dressed casually in dark jeans and a quarter-zip pullover. He scans the room in the same automatic way I do and finds me in about two seconds.
We recognize each other the way operators do, just a mutual acknowledgment that the other person is speaking the same language.
He crosses the room and extends his hand. “Mercer.”
“Call me Cole.” His grip is firm and brief. “Appreciate you making the time.”
“When Kynan McGrath calls personally,” he says, pulling out the chair across from me and settling into it with a toothy grin, “you make the time.”
The bartender appears and Kowalski orders a bourbon neat.
“How long were you at the Las Vegas office?” I ask, keeping it conversational.
“Eighteen months,” he says, a fond smile playing at his lips. “Good outfit and even better people, as I’m sure you know. I learned a lot there.” He glances around the bar briefly, a reflex rather than a threat assessment. “How long you been with Jameson?”
“Just a few months.”
He nods. “Kynan builds good teams. I always respected that about him.” He says it with the warmth of genuine feeling. “You come up through military?”
“Army,” I say. “Special Forces, 5th Group out of Campbell.”
“Green Berets. Impressive.”
I lift a shoulder, then jerk my chin up and even though I know the answer, I ask as if I don’t. “What about you?”
“Rangers,” he says with the slight lift of someone who’s just found common ground in a foreign country. “Second batt.”
“Ah,” I drawl with a grin. “The guys who kick the door before we show up.”
Kowalski snorts. “Someone has to make the introduction.”
I bark out a laugh and nod. “We always made a good team.”
“That we did,” he agrees.
There it is—the tie that binds. It doesn’t matter that we’ve never met because the shared service is older than either of us and it bypasses the professional distance the way almost nothing else can. I let myself feel it, but I don’t allow myself to trust it.
Not yet.
The bartender appears, sets down his drink and then melts away quietly.
“So,” Kowalski says, turning his glass slowly on the coaster. “Kynan said you wanted to talk about SAPG. Thinking of applying for a job?”
“Actually, no. We’ve got a client situation,” I say, keeping it vague by design. “There’s some indication that SAPG assets may have been involved in some shady stuff.”
“Such as?” he inquires, and he doesn’t seem offended by the accusation.
“The kind that ended badly for someone,” I reply, unwilling to give more than that. “Honestly, doesn’t seem like the kind of stuff SAPG would get tangled up in, and Kynan thought you’d be a good resource to feel out if we’re barking up the wrong tree.”
His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes do. It’s small—a fractional adjustment, a tinge of wariness. If I weren’t looking for it, I would have missed it entirely.
“That’s a broad description,” he drawls. “Shady stuff that ends badly for someone.”
“It’s meant to be,” I reply evenly. “I was hoping you might be able to help me narrow it.”
Kowalski leans back slightly, arms relaxed, his posture implying transparency. “SAPG employs over four hundred agents worldwide so I obviously don’t know all of them. But I can tell you in my experience that SAPG—just like Jameson—runs clean operations. We’re vetted by three federal agencies, we’ve got a track record that spans fifteen years, and Pelham doesn’t take on clients who create liability.” He pauses. “If there were shady activities, it was a one-off by someone rogue.”
I expected an answer just like that. If he’s loyal to his employer, that’s the standard bullshit he would naturally throw out. But he dropped Pelham’s name without being asked and that has my interest.
I hadn’t mentioned the owner of SAPG at all. Hadn’t mentioned anything beyond the words shady stuff and he’s already defending the CEO.
I pick up my beer and take a slow sip. “Sure… that makes sense. Kynan said you’d give me the real lowdown.”
And just like that, I know everything I need to know.
The rest of the conversation lasts another twenty minutes, and Kowalski is good—genuinely good. He gives me what sounds like a useful rundown of their organizational structure and generic information about SAPG’s client intake process. A careful, plausible explanation of how someone might go rogue because he’s on the take, but it’s unlikely given the system of checks and balances they have in place. He expresses appropriate concern and suggests appropriate channels. He does everything a cooperative former colleague would do and I listen and ask reasonable follow-up questions, but give him nothing in return except the impression I came here looking for reassurance and found it. We spend another ten minutes swapping army stories and laughing like newfound friends.