“What sort of security force do you have?”
“I’ve got fifteen men—twelve usually on duty or on call—there’s always somebody on vacation or out sick or something.”
“Are they all armed?” she asked.
“All armed and very well trained to use their weapons,” he replied. “We’ve got our own firing range back in the woods there.” He waved a hand vaguely to his right.
They passed what looked like the business district of a tiny village—grocery, drugstore, news shop, dry cleaner, doctor, dentist.
“We’ve got just about everything we need here,” Noble said. “None of our members ever has to go to town.” He slowed and pointed at a low building. “That’s my bailiwick right there. It’s like a small-town police station, really. We’ve got a small lockup and the usual equipment.”
“Does that include assault weapons?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I assume everything is properly licensed.”
“Sure. Florida as a state is pretty liberal about gun ownership, and we’re licensed by the state as a private security service.”
They drove through the village, and homes began to appear on both sides of the road, at widely separated intervals—or rather, gates began to appear. The houses were nearly invisible behind lush tropical plantings.
“How long has this place been in business?” Holly asked.
“A little over twenty years,” Noble replied. “The first five was mostly the construction of the village and the infrastructure, which is considerable. We’ve got our own water and sewage treatment plants and a backup generating system that pops on if there’s a power failure. None of our members ever goes more than five seconds without electrical power, even in a hurricane.”
They passed a house under construction; it was huge.
“Is that representative of the size of the houses in this place?” Holly asked.
“Sure is. There’s nothing under ten thousand square feet here.”
They passed the Palmetto Gardens Country Club, with a clubhouse that was large and comfortable looki
ng.
“We’ve got three eighteen-hole courses here,” Noble said. “Every one of them the equal of anything in the country.”
“For how many members?” she asked.
“That’s confidential, but let’s just say that our people don’t like to reserve tee times. They like to walk out there and play, so we keep it uncrowded.”
“My dad is a big golfer,” she said. “He’s a senior master sergeant in the army, stationed in North Carolina.”
“Does he ever get down this way?”
“He plans to.”
“Tell him to call me, and I’ll give him a round here. Certain employees are allowed to use the facilities.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, meaning it. “Ham would love that.”
“Ham? Ham Barker?”
“That’s right.”
“Sorry, I didn’t get the connection. I did a tour with him in Vietnam.”
“No kidding. That’s three people he knows here, then.”