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“Yeah, except two of them…I heard about Hank Doherty. That’s a tough way to go when you’ve been through what he has.”
“Did you serve with Hank and Chet, too?”
“I knew them both in the army, but we were never in the same outfit, like Ham and me. How is the old fart?”
“He’s got his thirty in; he’ll be retiring one of these days. Did you know my mother?”
Noble shook his head. “There weren’t any wives where we were.”
They passed a sign saying AIRFIELD.
“You’ve got a landing strip here, too?”
“Six thousand feet of it. We can take anything up to and including a Gulfstream V. All of our people arrive and depart by private aircraft. We’ve got the only instrument landing system in the country at a private airport. When our foreign members arrive, we arrange to have customs and immigration here to clear them, so they can fly directly here, nonstop, from any airport anywhere. It’s a great convenience not to have to stop at a port of entry to clear.”
“These people have their own little world here, don’t they?”
“Now you’ve got the picture. These guys work like slaves most of the time; they’re glad to get down here for a little golf or tennis and some R and R.”
They could see the Indian River now, and a marina with some large motor yachts.
“Some of them come by sea, now and then,” Noble said.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Holly replied.
“Neither has anybody else,” Noble said.
“I was surprised to be denied entry to part of my jurisdiction.”
“Sorry about that, but you have to remember that this is private property. Legally you couldn’t come in without a search warrant, but if ever you want in, just give me a call and I’ll tell the gate man you’re coming.”
“Thanks. You should warn your people, though, that if we have an emergency or a crime out here, my people are not going to wait at the gate.”
Noble laughed. “Well, we’re what you might call a crime-free area,” he said. “We’ve never had so much as a burglary, so I don’t think we’ll be needing the services of the Orchid Beach PD anytime soon.”
“Tell me,” Holly said, “why does such a crime-free development need a security force of fifteen, armed with automatic weapons?”
Noble laughed. “Let’s just say our people like us to err on the side of caution. You have to understand the mind-set with people at this level: most of them have bodyguards, armored limousines and elaborate security precautions at their other homes. You never know when somebody is going to try to kidnap some corporate executive, as happened in New Jersey a few years ago. Remember the oil company president who was taken and died of a gunshot wound?”
“Yes, I read about that.”
“That case and the Unabomber made a big difference in the way corporate America looked at personal security. A lot of boards of directors insisted that their top execs beef up their protection.”
They had completed a huge circle now and were approaching the gate. Noble pulled the Range Rover up to her car, stopped and held out his hand. “You let me know when Ham visits, and I’ll get him on the course.”
“Thanks, Barney,” Holly said, shaking his hand. “I’ll call when you least expect it.” She got out of the vehicle and went to her car, profoundly impressed with what she had seen. It was a dream world for a privileged few—and their security force. She wondered what would happen if one of these people murdered another. She’d probably never even hear about it, she reckoned.
CHAPTER
22
H olly worked seven days a week for her first two weeks on the job. She concentrated on getting to know her force by name and assignment, and on getting to know their experience and capabilities. There were four women on the force, none of them on the street; she rotated them onto patrols and decided that the next four vacancies she had would go to women applicants. She discussed this with Hurd Wallace, who nodded and said little. She was becoming accustomed to his reptilian stillness and his reticent manner, and she began to know that he had a good grasp of the department. He was a capable man, and she wondered why Chet Marley had been reluctant to promote him further. Chet occasionally showed signs of coming out of his coma, but always regressed.
Late in her third week, on Friday afternoon, she had a phone call.
“Holly Barker,” she said.
“It’s Jackson.”
