The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

“Not signing would be a mistake. Then you will be immediately terminated with cause and without any severance. Benton. Tell him,” MacBride said.

“There is that bunch of incriminating documents you already received from Boyd. If others were added to your files—and they have—when found would show you are a spy for China. Hell, you let a foreign spy into our classified area—it would be more than what we need. Twenty years in prison—minimum,” Benton said, as happy as Peter had ever seen him.

“Yes, I got docs from Sandy, but you know none of the rest is true,” Peter said, as his pulse raced.

“What does the truth have to do with anything?” Benton replied with a snort.

MacBride stood. He moved to Sheila’s vacated spot on the couch. “Sheila is annoying, but she is right.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You should take it. Sign it, Peter. Please. We don’t want this to go any further, but if we have to, we will—to protect the company.”

Peter saw MacBride glance up to Benton, who was still leaning against the door. MacBride continued.

“Then we can all move on from this. You may be interested to know that Gilbert Street retired this morning.”

“A loss for Kirkwood.” Peter stood. “Thanks for the offer, I mean it, but I’m not signing. I quit.”

“Peter!” A stunned MacBride said, as he watched Peter turn and walk to the door. Benton blocked his way out. Peter moved in close.

“Please move.”

Benton waited, then stepped aside, not hiding the grin on his face.

“See ya, Schaeffer.”

At 4 a.m., Peter thought he heard a soft snap, followed by a metal rumble downstairs. It sounded like the screen door to the patio was loose. James was known for not closing it all the way. If it was a windy night, Peter had to get up in the dark to stop it from rattling and banging with every gust.

He hoped he just imagined it.

He hadn’t slept much after the events of the day. One moment he had a job—the next, he had nothing. It was a cover-up. He wouldn’t play, but he had a family to support. But he also didn’t want to go to prison.

Then he heard another sound.

Peter let Janelle sleep as he slid out of bed. He checked to see if James was asleep, closed his door, then went downstairs. As he took the last step, he heard electronic sparks. The sound was followed by a grunt and the unmistakable sound of a body free-falling and hitting a hard surface.

Peter whirled around the corner, using his elbow to flip the light switch on the wall. The front entry and hallway lit up. Laying in the hallway, face down, was Benton dressed head to toe in black. On the floor, a few inches from his hand, was a large knife.

Standing over the unconscious man was Demon, also dressed in black and holding his Devil Stick like a sword. He looked up, then down, a big smile on his face. Snake was by the sliding kitchen door.

“Full power. Went down like an anvil in a swamp.” He pulled the electrodes out of Benton’s back and rolled them up. “This is a pretty big hunk of meat. I had to let him have it.” He clipped the Stick to his belt, reached down, and tossed Benton—who probably had fifty pounds on Demon—over his shoulder like a bag of roof shingles.

Peter was speechless.

“You should use your security alarm.” Demon turned and walked toward the kitchen door.

“How? What?” Peter finally asked.

“Greetings from the Devil,” he heard them say, as they disappeared into the night.

59

Angel

Abaddon Ranch, Texas

As he worked in the Spy Devils Ops Center below his house on Abaddon Ranch, Bridger relished the ease in which he could destroy Kirkwood International Industries.

They were a sitting duck.

In minutes, media business experts would report the company was having “an issue.” In a few hours, stories would proclaim “serious allegations” surrounded the management of the company. By the end of the day, it would be described by financial news commentators as a company that required “criminal investigation.”

Bridger just couldn’t stomach Chinese intelligence ripping off technology from a U.S. company. He couldn’t stomach the culpability of Kirkwood executives in their fraudulent actions. Most of all, they were going to suffer his wrath for how they treated Peter—and the attempt on his life—which was a stupid move.

When Demon called with the news that he had intercepted the intruder at Peter’s house, that stoked the flames of his wrath.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Demon asked.

“I don’t care,” Bridger replied. “Use your imagination.”

“Hell yes!”

Bridger could give a rat’s ass. Chapel had called trying to convince Bridger one last time to hand over the case—which Bridger replied with a “In all due respect, go fuck yourself.”

Chapel then informed him about Peter’s decision. Bridger respected that Peter didn’t cave to Kirkwood’s bribe offer or NDA demand. That showed him something. A man with a family risking it all for principle. A rare commodity. Chapel understood that, too. Bridger assumed the relaying of the intel on Peter was the real reason Chapel called.

He had Imp hack into Peter’s computer to retrieve all the documents he would need as proof of Kirkwood’s crimes. It was there. The arrangements to significantly inflate revenue from Mourning Dove contracts in a subtly crafted exchange for trade secrets and technology.

He sent the info through back channels—not as a Spy Devils-branded investigation—but to a BBC News Business contact. The story was the lead for their 7 a.m. news program. Simultaneously, it appeared on BBC’s webpage and social media. Bridger’s sources at NHK in Tokyo and ChannelNewsAsia in Singapore, 4 p.m., and 3 p.m. local time, respectively, picked up and led with the BBC scoop.

The news crossed the international dateline at digital speeds, reaching all the morning business shows in New York City five hours later, 7 a.m. local.

With slight variations, all the media read or reprinted the reports from