Page 46 of Ground Truth

But soon.

Very soon.

He put the matter aside for now and moved on to another festering problem.

This morning, as usual, Hedinger ate alone in his large personal dining room. He was seated at the head of a priceless antique table offering a breathtaking view of the Alps. His personal chef prepared food fit for kings.

All was as it should be. Hedinger lived like a king because he was now and forever the king of all he surveyed.

This morning his meal was an exquisite omelet, pastries, and potato latkes with applesauce. Finely pressed French coffee, paled by heavy cream and sweetened with syrupy manuka honey, satisfied his need for caffeine and sweets.

Hedinger ate leisurely and with great satisfaction as he perused dozens of reports from his worldwide operations.

His executives in charge of each operational office were more than competent and reports were rarely alarming. Issues arose, as in every business, and were expeditiously resolved on-site. Hedinger paid little attention to the body count.

Which was why he hadn’t expected the recent alert from his US Chief of Operations. The Phillip Reed matter, one Hedinger had settled long ago, had reappeared. Not at all what he’d wanted to hear.

The first alert came from a trap on the Atlanta PD cold case database. Monitoring public agency databases was routine practice for Hedinger’s enterprises.

He’d learned over the years to respect the data big governments seemed to magnetize like honey attracts ants.

When the old Reed murder file was located by an unidentifiable hacker, Hedinger’s alert was triggered. Walter Cade, his COO in the US, had simply watched the situation at first, assuming nothing more would come of it.

He’d been wrong.

Later, the file was opened and copied by Detective D. Myer.

A more urgent alert fired.

When she copied the entire file including all data and saved it to an external device, her actions triggered Hedinger’s full scale alarm.

Cade was tasked with terminating the attack. He’d put his best men on it, he’d said.

Despite Hedinger’s orders to eliminate all who touched that file by extreme measures, the contents had not been retrieved.

Had he been less than clear? Not likely. Yet he had not received proof that the task had been accomplished.

Hedinger finished his meal and refreshed his coffee before he placed the call on an encrypted satellite signal. Cade answered instantly in Washington, DC.

“What is the status of the Reed matter?” Hedinger demanded without preamble as he sipped the sweet, creamy coffee.

“The detective who shared the police files on the Reed murder died last night in a shootout with local gang members. She can do no further harm,” Cade said.

“I see.” Hedinger smiled. “And the copied file?”

Cade cleared his throat. “She didn’t have it on her. Looks like she passed the thumb drive to the two investigators we previously identified.”

Hedinger’s patience, already thin, strained to the breaking point. “Where are these civilian investigators?”

“They left Atlanta. Bound for Sarasota. They plan to fly over the area where the Reed sailboat sank.”

“That’s absurd,” Hedinger said, his tone as hard as granite. “What do they hope to find?”

“They’ll find nothing. Because there’s nothing there. We removed all evidence when we collected Reed from the water,” Cade said.

“Surely they know they’re foolishly wasting resources.”

“As long as they’re engaged in distractions, they’re of no concern to us,” Cade replied.

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