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“Good to hear from you, man. But why am I sensing this is not a social call?”
“Probably because I’ve never rung up anyone for a bloody ‘social call’ in my life.”
The American grinned, happy for this diversion right now. “What’s up, man?” He took a long sip of water, again looking out the dirty windshield of his Ford.
“Cuttin’ right to the chase, mate. I work for an extremely well-known businessman who had an attempt on his life yesterday. A bit of a mess, and yes, I’m applying typical English understatement. Anyway, we need a new director of security, and I reached out to some chaps from your old shop— the Company, not the Teams—and they said you might be sort of…under-utilized at the moment.”
“Those mates of yours are too kind. I haven’t been utilized in years.”
Wren laughed. “I was applying some English understatement there, as well. Honestly, they told me your prime days were being misspent running hunting trips for wealthy people you can’t stand.”
“When I can get work, yeah. Having a dry spell at the moment.”
Wren barked into the phone now. “Well then, it’s settled, isn’t it? You’re coming to work for us. Proper good pay. Plus full hazard duty now, after the attempt yesterday.”
“Who’s the famous client?”
Wren paused, then said, “Does it matter?”
Zack cocked his head. “Shit. That bad?”
“No, didn’t mean that. It’s just that people have a strong opinion of him, one way or the other. It’s Anton Hinton.”
“Shit,” Zack muttered again, then, “Damn.” The man was a household name. He blew out a sigh. “Somebody took a swing at him?”
“In the UK, just yesterday, as I said. It’s all over the bloody news. You living under a rock?”
“I try to, anyway.”
“Right. Yeah, well, Hinton wasn’t hurt, but his security chief took a bullet. Didn’t make it.”
“Sorry.”
“Chilean chap. Caught a nine-mil through the jaw. Madness.”
“Who were the shooters?”
“Contract boys from Bulgaria, haven’t a clue who hired them, but there’ve now been six killings of high-tech experts in the same general field as Anton, all over the world, and all in the past day and a half. Surely it’s all related. We can do a proper threat assessment when you sign on. Look…I can charter a plane at whichever airport is closest to you right now and bring you out to London straightaway, yeah? I’ll fill you in in person, you can meet Anton, see what you think.”
Wren spoke up again. “Look, mate. This job is for you.” He paused, “Unless you know something I don’t.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the old Hightower, the one I worked with all those years back, he could do this work. I just don’t know if you’re still up for it.”
It was a little psychology Wren was employing on Zack—a challenge, and it was a challenge Zack accepted.
“Charter a plane in San Antonio.”
He could hear the relief in the voice of the man on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you with the time and location.”
“I will travel with my own gun. Can you get it into the UK?”
“No need to bring any kit. We’ll get you sorted straightaway.”
Zack reached down to his appendix area and put his hand on the butt of the big Staccato XC pistol, still warm from use this afternoon. He said, “Nonnegotiable, Wren.”
“Americans,” the Englishman muttered, and then he took a moment before saying, “Yeah. We’ll work something out. I’ll have men meet you at the aircraft to carry your things. They’re licensed, they’ll take your weapon through the customs process as if it’s theirs, give it back to you once you’re clear.”
