Page 55 of The Session

“I’d say I’m pretty good at finding my focus when I need it. It’s better if you tell me everything.”

“This would be a very big win for us, Mark. Senegal is strategic in a number of ways because the president is highly transactional. It’s what we call a trifecta. We get this, and other things fall into place.”

“So if I land this, does this help me become a provider?” Mark asked.

“Now I know what you and Blaise talked about, aside from ordering Lamborghinis. You really don’t need to worry about points right now. Still, I’ll make sure you get the appropriate number of points on the board. What really matters is that this isn’t coincidental. Fonseca didn’t come to me. This was presented to me. One of the things we believe here is testing people early and often, and this is your first test.”

“Is Max Lightman the source of this?” Mark asked.

Tru held out her hands and shrugged. “All I can tell you is that it would probably please him.”

“I thought I was here to find out if y’all were worth my time, not to please a man who’s managed to stay outside my life for my entire life.”

“Trust me, I understand where you’re coming from. But I think this is a good opportunity.”

“I already said yes, so I’m committed. And it sounds like this kid could use some help.”

Trash Talk

Summit Strategies had multiple properties across the Caribbean in a variety of jurisdictions. The two main properties were a high-rise complex near Nassau and a more exclusive resort consisting of ninety-two bungalows spread across a cay a few miles east of Exuma.

When the plane landed, a Land Rover was waiting for Mark and Tru to take them to the other end of the island, where Summit had created a sports complex consisting of a baseball diamond, a football field, and a training area.

Summit had created the training facility the year prior at the behest of a Saudi billionaire who wanted to establish a training camp for his junior soccer league.

The vehicle came to a stop between the training facility and the field, and Mark spotted a solitary figure in the middle taking practice shots—kicking a ball into a goal with a very animated goalie diving and punching the balls away as they came. Mark counted two dozen other people watching the practice: some in uniform, some in sweats, and others holding camera equipment.

Off to the side, under a canopy, three people sat at computers.

“This is a bit more than I was expecting,” Mark said to Tru as they climbed out of the vehicle.

“Ozzy is a very important client to us,” Tru answered, using Ousmane’s preferred nickname.

Mark walked over to a position behind the coaches and trainers scrutinizing Ozzy and watched the younger man chase the ball and kick it toward the net. Although the flight to the Bahamas had been brief, as promised, he’d had a chance to watch footage of Ozzy playing to get a sense of his strengths and weaknesses. All the fundamentals were there, like Fonseca said. The kid had speed, which was critical. But like many players, the ability came and went. Mark could tell it wasn’t a matter of stamina. Ozzy was capable of bursts of energy throughout the long game. In fact, it seemed the longer he stood still, the worse his performance became.

Mark and Tru walked over to Andrelli, the Italian coach. He was in his late thirties and looked vital and fit enough to take the field himself.

“Coach Andrelli, this is Mark Greenley—the gentleman we spoke about,” Tru introduced.

Andrelli sized Mark up. “The influencer, right? Ozzy’s new hero?”

It was clear to Mark that Andrelli had no idea who he was and wouldn’t have been impressed either way.

Mark reached out his hand and gave Andrelli’s a firm shake, making sure the Italian could appreciate his forearm strength. “Actually, my background is in kinesiology and performance conditioning.”

Andrelli gestured toward the people under the canopy. “We’ve got two of the best sports kinesiologists in the world right over there.”

“Good. I’m just here to talk to Ozzy. Mind if I borrow him for a few minutes?”

“We’re still running some drills,” Andrelli objected.

“I think it will be fine,” Tru cut in.

Andrelli nodded and made a sound that was halfway to a grunt. He understood who was paying the bills.

“Sure, have him as long as you want.” Andrelli blew a whistle, and his assistant shouted for a fifteen-minute break.

Mark pulled Tru aside. “I have a question for you. All these people here—this is all just for Ozzy?”