Page 50 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

As they neared the site Herb said, “This place is gorgeous.”

“I second that,” Mike said.

“Hold your reviews until you see the actual site,” Stone told them.

They soon arrived and made their way to the same vista point Ed had taken Stone.

“The property goes to just beyond those trees,” Stone said, pointing across the shallow valley. “And spreads in both directions about the same distance.”

The others took in the view, no one saying a word.

Finally, Mike asked, “Is this ridge part of the property?”

“It is. The property line abuts the road we came in on.”

“And is that the only access?” Eliza asked.

“Yes, but Ed Eagle said there’s a good place on the west side for a road that could connect to the main highway.”

She made a note on her tablet computer. After a few more questions were asked and answered, the three experts hiked farther along the ridge, leaving Stone, Mike, and Herb behind.

“What do you think?” Stone asked.

“I think I’m glad Phoenix fell through. Barring technical issues, this place is perfect.”

“I agree.” Stone turned to Herb. “Meet with Ed Eagle and work up a purchase agreement. Make sure he understands it’s contingent on our final decision.”

“You got it,” Herb said.

Mike checked his watch. “I need to get back to the plane. Herb, you have your hotel information?”

“All set.”

“I feel good about this,” Mike said.

“So do I,” Stone said.

He dropped Mike back at the airport and was heading back to the Lees’ when Monica called.

“Are you free for lunch?” she asked.

“I thought you had work to do.”

“I thought I did, too, but the person I’m supposed to meet with isn’t getting back to me.”

“In that case, I would love to have lunch with you. Shall I pick you up?”

—

Dalton Conroy had big ambitions. Ones, he’d come to realize, he’d never achieve at Vitale Insurance, his current employer.

He’d joined the company confident he’d quickly rise to the top. He’d even had delusions of being the company’s youngest ever CEO. Instead, he was one of a couple dozen vice presidents, and least senior of the bunch—a status that the others seemed to enjoy reminding him.

There would be no meteoric rise for him. At best, it would take decades before he’d have a shot at the top job. And waiting that long was out of the question.

He could barely tolerate the idea of remaining a minor VP at a company that insured the property of the elite for another day, as it was. What he wanted was tobeone of the elite.

Which was why he hadn’t even given it a second thoughtwhen Simon Duchamp approached him with the offer to pay him for inside information.

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