Point of Contact

“Something to drink, gentlemen? Coffee? Tea?” Hendley asked. “Orange juice?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Rhodes said.

Paul remembered his tepid tea and his mouth watered. A cup of fresh hot tea would really hit the spot. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it in front of two former U.S. senators — one of whom was his boss. “No, thanks.”

“Paul, I appreciate you taking the time to come up here,” Hendley said, taking his seat behind his expansive desk. “Senator Rhodes has an urgent matter he’d like to discuss with you.”

Paul shrugged. “Of course.” But his mind was already back at that Excel spreadsheet on his desktop, running through the numbers.

Rhodes leaned forward, clasping his hands. It looked like a prayer, Paul thought.

“First of all, what I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential.”

Paul nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. Well, as you probably know, I’m now on the board of directors of Marin Aerospace Systems, one of the country’s largest defense contractors, and we’ve set our sights on a really remarkable firm that we think would make an excellent acquisition target. Well, not a ‘target,’ of course, because it’s all very friendly, very aboveboard. We’re going to tender a formal offer to their corporate officers in the next ten days, and they’ve given us every indication they intend to accept.”

“Is it a defense company, too?”

“It’s a technology firm. Civilian applications, mostly, but very advanced, very innovative. We think they will add tremendous synergies to our side of the equation.”

“How can I help?”

Rhodes smiled broadly. “To be perfectly frank, our company has dropped the ball. We signed a letter of intent along with a contract to begin this process — you know how these lawyers are, and their lawyers over there—”

“Over where?” Paul asked.

“Singapore. Didn’t I mention that?” Rhodes brightened. “Have you ever been there?”

Paul shrugged. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, you’re in for a real treat. It’s a marvelous place. A truly world-class city. You have no idea. It’s the Paris of Asia, except it isn’t filthy and there aren’t any French people.” Rhodes laughed at his own joke.

Paul shifted uncomfortably. The sturdy club chair groaned. “I’m traveling?”

Rhodes saw the concern in Paul’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get ahead of myself. Let me read you in on the rest of it, then we’ll talk specifics.”

Hendley smiled. “Paul, I want to assure you that there’s no pressure here. I know you don’t like to travel much. But if you don’t mind just hearing the senator out.”

Paul nodded, but he already knew he wouldn’t do it. There was too much work for him to finish here. And he hated flying. He tried to remember how far away Singapore was.

“So here’s the thing,” Rhodes said. “Our company has been going through a strategic transition — revisioning the mission, as it were. Going back to square one and asking the big questions like who we are, what we’re doing, how we want to do it — you get the idea. And what that all means is that we’ve had several changes in personnel lately, C-suite-level executives especially, and it just so happens that the woman overseeing this particular venture was recently poached by one of our major competitors. What I prefer to believe is that she apparently forgot about the contract of intent, or at least the important details. She hired someone at the last minute — a firm, frankly, I didn’t approve of, and I canceled their contract, and that means I’ve put my company at some risk.”

“You need an independent, third-party audit, I take it,” Paul said.

Rhodes flashed his million-watt smile. He turned to Hendley. “Didn’t I tell you? Paul’s the best. Just the best.”

“Believe me, I know,” Hendley said. “And when we hired him, you were his strongest reference.”

Rhodes shrugged. “I just call ’em like I see ’em.”

Paul had been grateful for the reference at the time. But even back then, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someday he’d have to pay it back.

In spades.

10

A firm knock on the door caught everyone’s attention. It swung open. Jack stood in the doorway, harried and apologetic.

“Sorry I’m late. There’s a wreck two blocks up.”

“Jack, it’s great to see you,” Rhodes said. He and Hendley stood to greet him. After a brief struggle, Paul managed to stand up, too.

Rhodes examined Jack’s face. “I like the mustache, Jack. There’s something else about you, but I can’t quite make it out.”

Since the hostage-rescue operation Jack had shaved his beard, keeping only a thick but well-groomed mustache, and cut his long hair short and parted it in the opposite direction. He’d even put on a little base makeup to hide the remnants of his black eye. It wasn’t vanity. As the son of President Jack Ryan, Sr., “Junior” liked to change up his looks every once in a while to avoid being recognized when he was out in public.

“You look like a young Burt Reynolds,” Hendley said.

“Who’s Burt Reynolds?” Jack asked.

“My wife’s childhood crush,” Hendley said. “Before your time. Say, have you met Paul Brown?”