Point of Contact

“Dalfan Technologies is registered on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange. The software on that drive is designed to crash the value of Dalfan stock at a specified time and date for just a few seconds — but long enough for my HFT experts to short the stock and make millions.”

“HFT?”

“High-frequency trading. Most stock transactions are done by computers these days, and the faster computers get, the better the deals. But we’ve decided we can be the fastest if we can predict the future — and get the best deal of all.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Only if we are caught.”

“I don’t know.” Rhodes set the drive back down on the glass. “I’ve been to the Dalfan facility. Their data security seems impregnable.”

“Then impregnate it.”

“How?”

“How do you impregnate any reluctant woman? Seduction. You’re good at that.”

“What does that even mean? I don’t know how to breach their security protocols.”

“Not my problem.”

“It is if I fail.”

“Then do us both a favor and don’t fail.” Zvezdev grinned. “And I think you wouldn’t mind becoming very, very rich.”

“I have a fiduciary responsibility to Marin Aerospace, and by extension, Dalfan Technologies, which we’re about to acquire, which you no doubt know, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Zvezdev pursed his lips, his head bobbing. “Well, yes, a ‘fiduciary responsibility’ is something to consider. But so is this.” He pulled a smartphone out of his pocket, punched a few buttons, and handed the phone to Rhodes.

Rhodes read the screen, then reddened, angry and embarrassed. It showed Rhodes owned thousands of stock options with Marin Aerospace but he couldn’t exercise them for another three years. And even though he earned a good salary, his lavish lifestyle, two divorces, and a recently acquired gambling habit put him behind the financial eight ball. He tossed the phone back to the Bulgarian. “How did you get this?”

“The identity-theft company you’re signed up with? We own it.” Zvezdev tapped the side of his head with a thick index finger. “I know you need the money, Weston. And it’s easy money.”

Rhodes glowered at the fat Bulgarian, a pockmarked peasant from a failed state: a lesser man in every sense of the word. Yet somehow it was Rhodes who was the threadbare beggar. He resented Zvezdev’s easy smugness. This wasn’t a negotiation. The Bulgarian held all the cards, and he was broke. The only thing Rhodes hated more than treason was poverty.

Zvezdev drained his glass with a flourish and wiped his bearded mouth with his hand. He set the glass on the table. “So what shall it be?”

Rhodes sank back into the sofa, thinking. Years ago, they worked together. Zvezdev was CSS and he was CIA. Natural enemies. And yet they managed to form an uneasy partnership back then, forged in the fire of mutual self-interest. In truth, they were using each other for their own ambitions. In that regard, they weren’t so very different.

In truth, Zvezdev could’ve come in here, guns blazing. He had every right. After all, Rhodes had left Zvezdev for dead all those years ago. No doubt he had files, evidence. Things that could destroy Rhodes worse than bullets.

But the man sitting across from him seemed to bear no grudges, only gifts.

“You know, there just might be a way. I know somebody—”

Zvezdev raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Who?”

Rhodes started to say but stopped himself. He smiled. The irony was too rich. “Never mind who.”

“This man you’re thinking of can’t be traced back to me. Are we clear?”

“Who said it was a man? But don’t worry, I’m your firewall. How much time do we have?”

Zvezdev pulled on his hat, securing it over his wound as he stood. “You have until midnight on the twelfth local to do this thing. Not one second later, or the program fails.”

“That’s only a little more than two weeks from now. I’ll need more time.”

“That’s all the time we have.” Zvezdev marched toward the front door, Rhodes at his heels.

“But it’s a day’s travel just to get to Singapore from here.”

Zvezdev stopped at the door, gripped the handle. “Then you better get to it first thing tomorrow, yes?”

Rhodes frowned, worried. “No. I should probably start tonight.”

“You can’t start tonight. You’re going to be busy.” Zvezdev opened the door. The twins stood in the hallway, smiling.

Rhodes smiled back. “Hello, girls.”

“You see, Weston? I take care of my friends.” Zvezdev whispered in Rhodes’s ear. “My treat, on the house.” He winked and nudged Rhodes in the ribs. He nodded toward the girls as he pushed past them, then turned around. “And stay in touch. I need to know the moment it’s accomplished.”

Rhodes had already slipped his arms around the waists of the two busty coeds. “I will. And thanks.”

“I have a plane to catch.” Zvezdev threw him a mock salute, turned on his heel, and headed for the elevators.

Rhodes steered the twins toward the bar, wondering if the cagey Bulgarian was doing to him what he was planning to do to these girls tonight.

23

SINGAPORE

PRESENT DAY