“Okay then,” said Desh in annoyance. “I’m just a civilian now. If someone up the chain of command just had a frontal lobotomy, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“On the bright side,” continued Connelly, pressing ahead, “I was able to win one important argument with my superiors.” He smiled slyly. “I convinced them it wouldn’t be easy to entice you back. They’ve authorized me to pay you two hundred thousand dollars upon initiation of the assignment as a draw against expenses. It’s all set to be wired into your account. You’ll have access to it within the hour.” He leaned forward intently. “There’s another million upon success.”
Desh’s eyes widened. A payment of this magnitude would dramatically change the course of his life. It would allow him to leave the violent world he had known behind and immediately start down whichever new path he finally chose for himself. “Thanks, Colonel,” he said. “That’s a hell of a lot of money.” Desh paused. “But you do know I agreed to help because of you, and because of the nature of the threat, and not for the money.”
A twinkle came to Connelly’s eye. “I know that,” he said. “Notice that I only brought up the money after you had agreed.” The colonel smiled. “Considering the bounty for Bin Laden went as high as twenty-five million dollars, and considering the devastating consequences of failure, you’re the biggest bargain the government has ever had.”
Desh smiled. “Well, as long as the government is happy,” he said dryly, spreading his hands in mock sincerity. He paused for a moment in thought. “What about Fleming Executive Protection?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll make sure your calendar is cleared for the next month and you remain in good standing with them.” An amused look crossed Connelly’s face. “And rest assured, we’ll do it in such a way that won’t hurt your career, or your ah . . . reputation.” He smiled slightly at this and then added, “Do we have an agreement?”
Desh nodded. “We do.”
“Good. I’m sorry to have to pull you back in for one last mission, David, but I know you’re the right man for the job.”
Desh rose from the chair and prepared to leave. “I hope you’re right, Colonel. As always, I’ll try not to let you down.” He eyed Connelly suspiciously as something he had said earlier finally registered. “You said the wire transfer of the two hundred-K is ready to go?”
“I just need to give the word and it’s done.”
“So how is it exactly,” said Desh, his eyes narrowing, “that you happen to have the wire transfer information for my account, without me having given it to you?”
Connelly raised his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose you’d believe it was a lucky guess?” he said with an innocent shrug.
Desh allowed a bemused smile to flash across his face. He opened his briefcase, placed the accordion file inside, and stood.
Connelly also rose from his chair. He reached out and gave Desh a warm handshake. “Good luck, David,” he said earnestly. “And be careful.”
“I won’t be eating any pork products anytime soon, if that’s what you mean,” said Desh wryly, trying to hide his anxiety.
With that, David Desh picked up his briefcase and walked purposefully out the door.
4
David Desh exited the grounds of Fort Bragg and drove to a nearby shopping center. He parked the Suburban at the outer edge of the sprawling lot, becoming a lone island of privacy cut off from the dense mainland of all other parked vehicles. He pulled out the dossier on Kira Miller and began a careful review. The five-hour drive back to D.C. ahead of him would be the perfect time to digest what he was now reading and plot out his initial strategy.
After a little more than an hour he returned the dossier to his briefcase and began his trek home. Her file hadn’t given him much to go on, nor had he expected it to. If the girl’s background would have led to an obvious approach, others would have found it by now.
Kira Miller had been able to hide her true nature quite well. From a very young age she had been extremely talented, ambitious, and competitive. When she set her mind to something she had accomplished it. This didn’t always win her a lot of friends growing up, and being jumped ahead in school several years did nothing to help her social life.
Even as an adult she tended to make few friends, always keeping her eye on the ball; be it setting the record for youngest ever molecular neurobiology Ph.D. at Stanford or power-climbing up the corporate ladder. In college she had dated some, but she never managed to sustain a relationship for more than eight or nine months. Desh knew that most men would find her brilliance intimidating.