Page 10 of The 9th Man

To accomplish the task Rowland hired competent people and paid them well. For the first five years of his employment Jack had not minded the rule bending and breaking, reasoning that sometimes bad things happened to bad people. But when those bad things began to befall good people, he’d taken a second look. Even more troubling had been the realization that Tom Rowland was totally and completely amoral. The man had no conscience, nor any value system to violate. Literally anything and everything was on the table. Nothing was off limits. Not even murder. Jack, though, was not the same, and he’d come to realize that his narcissistic employer was a dangerous man.

But what was happening here seemed different.

Rowland had been sketchy with details.

Which was unusual.

And the distrust of Persik? That was new. And surprising. Always before, Persik had been given a wide latitude where no out-of-bounds markers existed. Too wide, in Jack’s opinion. He’d never cared for Persik. Nothing more than a hired killer. But he’d kept his opinion to himself. Funny how money had a way of silencing one’s own conscience.

“You look a million miles away.”

He turned from the bed and saw his wife, Jill, at the bedroom door. They’d been married a long time. She’d been there with him through his entire army career. They had three children. Grown. Living their own lives. No grandchildren as yet, but they were hoping soon. The money he’d made over the past seven years had provided all of them a comfortable life. But that had come at a price.

“Just thinking about what I need to take with me,” he said, lying.

“Where are you going?”

He smiled. “You know better.”

With a wink she said, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Long ago, back in the army, the rules had been established. No details on where, when, or why with regard to his work. Like the military, Rowland demanded total secrecy. No exceptions. Not ever.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked.

That question was allowed. Sometimes. “Hard to say. A few days at least. I’ll check in when I can.”

She entered the bedroom and came closer. “You look tired.”

“I am. But duty calls.”

Lately, he’d begun to make light more and more. A defensive mechanism? Probably. But hewastired.

Of everything.

She gently grasped his arm. “Will you at least try and sleep on the plane?”

“Did I say I was getting on a plane?”

She smiled. “No, you didn’t. Do you want some breakfast before you go? Or maybe some peanut butter ice cream and Oreos?”

“The ice cream would be wonderful.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then left the bedroom.

She was a good woman and he was lucky to have her. But more and more lately he’d wondered what she would think of him if she knew exactly what he did for a living. Where the money had come from. And all the people who’d been hurt or destroyed in the process. Rowland firmly believed that greed was a universal constant that cut across all races and cultures. It was what both created and solved problems. He’d resented Rowland’s parting comment. A promise of a bonus, thinking that money would be a great motivator. Unfortunately, in the past, it had indeed been just that.

Not anymore.

He finished his survey of the bag, satisfied as to its contents. He was flying private on a NetJets Bombardier Global 5500, which could easily accommodate him and his team. They were scheduled to leave from Dulles in three hours, nonstop to Brussels. Cars would be waiting for them on the ground. Ateng Persik was a few hours ahead on another Bombardier.

He thought again about Rowland’s sudden negativity on Persik.

Which made him wonder.

Could this be the moment he’d been waiting for?

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