King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)

Grant pointed at him and smiled. “You have a quick eye.”

“It’s subject to change, of course. Nothing I can do about that.”

“I completely understand that. I’ll simply have to build that into the op.”

Pratt held up a flash drive. “It’s all here.”

“I’m sure it is.” Grant held out his hand and took it.

“I know the money is in my account, or you wouldn’t be holding that,” said Pratt.

“If I were you, I’d do it exactly the same way. But with just one small difference.”

“What’s that?”

Grant slammed Pratt’s neck against the steering wheel, crushing his windpipe. He watched as Pratt suffocated and then died, collapsing sideways in the seat.

Grant said to the dead man, “I would never do the exchange face-to-face in a lonely spot because I might end up dead. Like you.”

He got out of the car and walked away. A minute later he climbed into his car and drove below the speed limit to his next stop. The retrofit on the old radio station was progressing nicely. He knew his men were working hard, but they would have to work still harder. After the rehab was done he would bring in his tech team. They were a multinational bunch. Not a single one was committed to anything other than himself. No flag-wrappers in the lot of them. He liked that. When money was the motivation, you knew exactly where you stood. They were the best he could find, and Grant knew where to look.

The Pentagon was as busy now as it was during the day. It truly was a building that never slept and where people visited, ate, and worked at all hours. He cleared security and went directly to his father-in-law’s office once more. He was admitted immediately because he was expected. He and Dan Marshall were having dinner tonight, and Grant expected to get some scuttlebutt about things he needed to know about.

Marshall greeted him as enthusiastically as before, first gripping his hand and then giving him a bear hug.

“Leslie says you’re keeping really busy lately, Alan. You remember you have to keep some time open for those grandkids of mine.”

“I will, Dan. I promise. Just got quite a few things in the hopper right now. Want to build a good life for us. And Leslie and I want to give you more grandchildren too. We’re not stopping at three. We’re still relatively young.”

Dan beamed. “Never hear me complaining about more rug rats to pal around with.”

The two men walked to a restaurant in the Pentagon and sat at a table well away from others.

“You look worried about something,” said Grant, observing Marshall closely.

Marshall chuckled, rubbed his face, and took a sip of the Coors draft he’d ordered. Grant drank only water. When Marshall put the glass down he had stopped chuckling and looked far more serious.

“You’ve been reading the news?” he asked.

Grant nodded. “Bizarre to say the least. How over a billion bucks of Treasury money ended up going missing in Afghanistan along with a reservist?”

Marshall looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “It was actually in euros.”

“Euros? Why?”

“Can’t really say.”

“What the hell was the money for?” Grant then quickly added, “Sorry, I’m sure that’s classified.”

“There’re rumors all over the press now. Really bad ones. Conspiracy. Breaking the law. Misuse of funds. And it all goes up very high.”

“Rumors with some truth to them?” asked Grant quietly.

“Let me put it this way, Alan. I can’t say unequivocally that they’re not true.”

You haven’t seen anything yet, thought Grant.

He reached over and put a hand on his father-in-law’s arm. “Dan, you’re in procurement. You buy stuff for the Army. You control a lot of money. But you’re not getting caught up in all this, are you?”