In the Company of Killers by Bryan Christy (ebook reader for pc and android .txt) 📕

there. Tin is hardly as valuable as gold unless you can access it in quantities sufficient to monopolize its supply to the world’s makers of smartphones and rocket launchers. On it went. The algorithms Krieger’s people used to price intelligence ensured that investors got what they wanted, which is to say, ensured that they got more. And if one didn’t always receive top dollar for specific information, one did receive ongoing payments that were secure and reliable. For traitors, that was more than fair.

Most of his investors were senior officials privy to top secret intelligence. Others had a single golden egg to sell. Like Fat Anthony Gatt, not all worked for a government. The Lockheed Martin engineer who stole plans for the F-35, the world’s most expensive fighter jet, needed both cash and an exit plan. Krieger’s people spent two years advising her on her investment portfolio, including a tip on a company that was about to fail disastrously. She shorted the stock and came out rich. Meanwhile, Krieger’s people laid a trail to Chinese hackers and sold the jet’s blueprints to the Saudis. The engineer still worked for Lockheed. The best exits didn’t require one to leave.

By pooling intelligence and providing a return, Krieger incentivized his investors’ behavior. By compensating them for their transgressions, he bought their silence. Anyone who invested with Krieger understood the cost of betrayal. To say that you invested your life in the Fund was not an understatement.

Krieger controlled a network of highly placed informant-investors around the world, making him constructive director of a meta-spy agency he used to package and deliver strategic opportunities to his extremely powerful clients. Commodifying intelligence worked. “Because,” Krieger liked to say with a modest smile, “I have more of it.”

•   •   •

Krieger looked at his guest. Admiral Everett Tighe was neither an investor in one of Krieger’s funds, nor a client. Tighe was a fool. Krieger was about to make him useful.

When Krieger did not respond, Tighe shifted in his chair. “All right, Terry, all right,” he said, fingering the scales of the Lady Justice statuette on Krieger’s desk. “Have it your way. Shall we . . .” He waved Mapes away.

“Shall we what?” Krieger asked.

“. . . do this in private?”

“This is private, Admiral.”

Tighe blew out his cheeks, then gestured with his cigar for Krieger to proceed.

Krieger leaned forward, placed his hands on his desk, and laced his fingers. He spoke calmly. “Admiral, the Seventh Fleet has been giving preferential treatment to Core F Services. That will no longer fly.”

“Not sure I care for your tone, son,” Tighe said, coming about. “However, I’m not familiar . . .”

Krieger looked at Mapes. His expression said, I have to put up with this?

“Core F, Admiral.”

Tighe’s expression remained blank.

Krieger pinched the skin between his eyes. “I will indulge you because this involves embarrassing issues for you. Anthony Gatt. Fat Anthony.”

Mapes placed a photograph of Tighe and Gatt standing together in a grip-and-grin in front of the Terror Club in Singapore, the British Navy’s watering hole.

“Husbanding?” Tighe said through his cigar. “You’re talking about husbanding contracts, Terry? Chit? I didn’t realize Perseus was in that sector.” He picked a flake of tobacco from his tongue. “That’s oh-fives, oh-sixes. Your people should know that.” He looked at Mapes. “But I can tell you, if you have a beef with one of our contractors, one of your competitors, you file a bid awards protest with FLC Yoko. Off the record, in case you’re thinking of filing such a challenge, I’ll advise you that it’s my understanding Core F has provided the Navy excellent product, soup to nuts.”

Tighe looked for a place to ash his cigar ash. He ignored the crystal ashtray Mapes had set before him and ashed his cigar on one of Lady Justice’s scales.

As Tighe performed his little display of power, Krieger smiled to himself. Gatt had indeed come through. It was some twenty-five companies deep, but Krieger now owned Mindanao City Port. He would present the port to China, along with a rather sizeable bill. Another pearl for your string, Mr. President.

“Admiral, I don’t care about you and your officers overpaying for port services in order to take a skim. Your men protect the Pacific flank of the Western Hemisphere. You offer your life to your country. I recognize that. I don’t care about a little graft. What I do care about is the national security of the United States.”

Tighe set down his coffee cup and got to his feet, motioning for Mapes to open the door. “You’ve been in the sun too long, Terry. We’re done here.”

“Sit down, Admiral. You’ve been passing Fat Anthony fleet movements, transit maps. Advising him in advance of your schedules, and those of our allies, in the Seventh AOR.”

Tighe paused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Admiral,” Mapes said, stepping forward to take over, as planned. “You have a first-class petty officer emailing classified ship movements directly to Fat Anthony for you.” She placed printed copies of the emails on the desk next to Tighe’s coffee cup. Tighe ignored them, still standing.

Krieger was thinking, Now’s when you say, “Do you have any idea how many sailors are under my command?”

“Do you have any idea how many sailors are under my command?” Tighe barked.

Mapes touched a button, and a screen descended to Tighe’s right. The office lights dimmed automatically. Another touch and a video began. It was a scene from the MacArthur Suite at the Manila Hotel. The video quality was excellent. Three slender Asian girls naked on a king-sized bed. Tighe naked, too, except for his admiral’s cap. The underage girls expressionless as they worked on Tighe. A girl on her knees allowing Tighe to do things to her. “Allowing” too strong a word . . .

“All right. Point taken,” Tighe said, returning to his seat. “Turn that garbage off. Fat Anthony. Yeah, I know him.”

Krieger could not get over how easily powerful men, men who should be leaders, could be led. Tighe had been altering the itineraries of the Seventh Fleet to patronize ports operated