Gambit by David Hagberg (fantasy novels to read txt) 📕

Li, who was so tiny and perfect in Hammond’s eyes that she didn’t look real, smiled diffidently and nodded. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much to tell. Even though we’re an independent nation, we still find that in some endeavors we bow to Beijing’s style.”

Hammond couldn’t help but return her smile. “We must talk.”

“Yes, please,” Taio said. “Unfortunately, we cannot stay for your party. We are flying back yet today. Pressing business.”

“Take over for me, Kathy,” Hammond said. “I shouldn’t be long.”

Hammond brought the two Chinese contractors below to his office midships. In addition to a hand-carved teak desk and four flat-screen monitors on the walls, the room was equipped with an Italian leather couch, Lexan coffee table, and two leather chairs.

When they were seated, Taio and Li on the chairs and Hammond on the couch, Taio began.

“We have done our research on you. What we wish to know is your target and your reasons.”

“First, I need to know your fee,” Hammond said, trying to be the one in charge. It was his yacht, his money, and his project.

“Our fee will depend on your target and your motive,” Li said.

“Tell me.”

“You can afford us.”

“I said, tell me your fee.”

Taio and Li exchanged a glance, then got to their feet. “I’m sorry that we could not come to an accord, Mr. Hammond,” Li said.

“We’ll just see ourselves out,” Taio added.

“Wait, goddamnit,” Hammond said. “I have a right to know what I’ll have to pay for your services.” He’d been in charge just about all of his life, but right now, he felt that he had jumped into something way over his head.

Taio and Li just looked at him.

“His name is Kirk McGarvey. He used to work for the CIA.”

Taio smiled. “A formidable man,” he said, and he and Li sat down.

“Just a man,” Hammond said, though he didn’t know why.

“Why do you wish us to kill him?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Our time is limited, Mr. Hammond.”

“It was a business deal that went bad.”

Taio said nothing.

“It involved a considerable position in bitcoins.”

“How much did you lose?” Li asked. She was obviously the money manager in the partnership. Hammond couldn’t imagine her as an assassin.

“Nothing.”

“Then why go to the expense?”

“Because it’s what I want.”

The two just waited.

“No reason,” Hammond said at length. “Look. Maybe you’d best go.”

“Is it merely a game to you? A rich man’s sport?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“But it’s exactly our business, Mr. Hammond,” Li said. “We will kill Mr. McGarvey, for sport as you wish.”

“When?”

“Soon,” Taio said.

“How much?”

“Twenty-five million euros in gold,” Li said.

Hammond started to object, but Li continued.

“We will send you instructions for deposit at a location in Switzerland. Our work is guaranteed. That means if we fail, your gold will be returned to you within twenty-four hours.”

“Is that satisfactory?” Taio asked.

Hammond had no idea what to say. But he nodded.

TWENTY-EIGHT

McGarvey, sitting with Pete and Mary in Otto’s office, telephoned army colonel Harry Ward at his office at the Defense Intelligence Agency around four in the afternoon and asked if they could have a chat. “No confrontation. I just need some information.”

A few years ago, Ward was a major, still in the DIA, and had been on a periphery of a group of mid-level intelligence agents who had tried to sidetrack McGarvey from an investigation. The op had resulted in some deaths, nearly McGarvey’s.

“Nothing more to say, Mr. Director,” Ward replied.

“This has nothing to do with the other business. This is something else that I’d like some help with.”

“Knowing you, I don’t think I want to get involved. Sorry.”

“I don’t want this to turn into something ugly.”

Ward was silent for a moment. “I won’t meet you anywhere off base.”

“Your office will be fine. And I only need a couple of minutes of your time.”

“How about right now on the phone?”

“Face-to-face.”

“0900. I’ll leave word at the gate.”

McGarvey hung up. “At least he agreed to see me.”

“You shook him up, that’s for sure,” Pete said. “Do you want me to tag along?”

“If we gang up on him, he’ll clam up.”

“Do you think you’ll get anything out of him?” Otto asked. “He isn’t one of your biggest fans.”

“More to the point, do you think he knows something?” Pete asked.

“I’m not sure, but he’s in a position to know if something might be going down over at the Pentagon. He started chasing his first star when he made major, and he had the rep even then of keeping his head down.”

“He may have the rep of keeping his head down, but if he wants a star badly enough, he’ll fight back if he’s pushed,” Mary said. “You’ll be poking a stick into a hornet’s nest if he’s somehow involved.”

“That’s the whole point,” McGarvey said. “And I’m going to keep pushing until someone pushes back.”

“Again,” Pete said.

The DIA’s headquarters was one of more than a dozen different civilian and military units stationed at or adjacent to Joint Base Anacostia–Bolling in southeast D.C., across the Potomac from Reagan National. Among the others were the Department of Homeland Security Office of Inspector General, and several White House support units, including the White House Communications Agency.

A pass was waiting for him at the main gate, and he drove over to the sprawling six- and seven-story complex of buildings that housed more than ten thousand civilian and military personnel. Fully one-fourth of all the information that was included in the president’s daily brief came from the DIA, which, unlike the CIA, concentrated on defense-military topics at the national level.

But the DIA also provided intel for the secretary of defense, the Joint Chiefs, and combat commanders. The agency was practically a wing of the Pentagon.

Ward’s job was to oversee the Russian section of the Agency’s watch center housed in the South Wing of the complex. Mac was met at the main entry by a young woman in civilian clothes, who escorted him up to the seventh floor and Ward’s office.

“Someone will ring for me when you’re ready to leave, sir,” she said and left.

Ward’s secretary, another