Duggan nodded. ‘Same as you. Tea and toast.’
‘Actually,’ Cobb said, ‘I ate earlier. I ordered these for you.’
Duggan broke into a wide grin. ‘I see you’ve done your homework.’
Cobb shrugged. ‘I like to be prepared.’
‘So do I,’ Duggan said as he poured himself some tea. ‘Which is why I left my wallet at home. I naturally assumed you were going to buy me breakfast to curry favor.’
Cobb smiled. ‘Touché.’
The New Zealander laughed loudly. It was a snorting kind of laugh that grated on most people’s nerves, but Cobb was the kind of man who would tolerate such things as long as Duggan could deliver when it mattered most.
In the spy game, Duggan was known as a bloodhound — a specialist at finding people who didn’t want to be found. For years, he had rented out his services to governmental agencies like MI6 or the CIA, which was where Sarah Ellis had met him on one of her undercover missions with the Agency. Based on her recommendation, Cobb had hired him to find a missing professor during their search for Alexander the Great’s tomb, and Duggan had performed brilliantly.
So brilliantly, in fact, that Cobb wanted to hire him again.
Duggan sipped his tea. ‘I have to admit that your invitation caught me off guard. So did the first-class ticket from Cairo. It wasn’t necessary, but much appreciated.’
Cobb nodded but said nothing.
‘Do you know, in all the years I lived in England I hadn’t even heard of this town.’
‘Good. Let’s hope no one else has either.’
‘So, why are we here, Jack?’
‘I’ll get right to it. I need your expertise; or the expertise of someone you recommend, if you don’t think you’re the man for the job.’
Duggan leaned forward. ‘You have my attention, sir.’
‘Based on our last conversations in Egypt and the assistance you were able to provide, I won’t insult you by assuming you don’t know who I’m working for.’
Duggan smiled coyly. ‘That would be a great start, because of course, I do. Monsieur Papineau not only paid me for that service, but he tried to recruit me after your adventure.’
That last bit was news to Cobb. ‘And you turned him down?’
‘Despite what Sarah might have told you, I don’t work strictly for the money. I have enough of it now that I can pick and choose my clients. Oh, I told Jean-Marc that I was already embroiled in another issue, but the truth was I just didn’t like the cut of his jib.’
‘But you were still willing to meet with me …’
‘Yes. My curiosity has got the better of me.’ Duggan raised an eyebrow. ‘I have an idea what it is you want me to work on, but I’d like to hear it from you.’
Cobb obliged. ‘I need someone to perform the work that I can’t do when I’m on a mission. I want someone on my side. A resource I can call who can find anyone or anything for me.’
Duggan sat back and straightened his bow tie. ‘I couldn’t possibly recommend anyone else for the job. This sort of thing requires international work, which happens to be my specialty.’
‘I know.’
‘And international work is quite expensive.’
Cobb nodded. ‘You’re obviously aware of what went down in the desert. Prior to that mission, we located a lost train in Romania.’
Duggan’s face showed that he’d heard about the train full of gold.
Cobb went on. ‘Jean-Marc — or rather his employer — is paying each member of my team a nice chunk of change. The implication is that there might be several more jobs ahead. I will pay you a quarter million per job. Retroactively. So you’ll get a half-million signing bonus.’
Duggan had just taken a sip of his tea when he heard the amount. He sputtered and coughed, having snorted some of the hot liquid up his nose. The other customers looked over briefly, but Cobb waved them off as Duggan whipped out his handkerchief and coughed into it.
Cobb continued. ‘From this point on, you’ll only get paid on successful missions — just like me. But I’ll cover your expenses up until that point, naturally.’
‘Dear God,’ Duggan whispered, once he had recovered his ability to speak. ‘That’s bloody generous, mate. You understand that’s far beyond my typical salary, right?’
‘I do,’ Cobb said, leaning forward. ‘But I require absolute silence for it. The truth is I don’t need the money. The money I have now will keep me for the rest of my days. What I need is to live long enough to enjoy it. I don’t like being in the dark.’
‘No one does.’
‘Plus, I need your complete loyalty on this. You wouldn’t be Sarah’s asset anymore. You’d be mine. I’ll need you to drop all your other clients and work for me full time.’
‘Understood,’ Duggan said with a nod. ‘My experience with these sorts of things has shown me that you might not like what I uncover …’
‘Let me worry about that. The team will be in Florida today or tomorrow. That seems like a good time to start — if you like the cut of my jib, that is.’
‘I like the cut of every sail on your sloop, Jack.’ Duggan leaned across the table and shook Cobb’s hand. ‘I’ll have my people begin immediately. Just tell me who you’re looking for.’
‘Wait. Your people?’ Cobb said, suddenly wary.
‘Relax, Jack. This sort of work can’t be done with a single man anymore. I have agents who are highly skilled and loyal to me. In addition to their loyalty, there are several layers of protection between us. These days I don’t meet these people in person, but I still keep tabs on them, as any employer should. There’s a reason I’ve managed to reach this age in my profession.’
‘That’s fine,’ Cobb said with a nod, ‘as long as there’s no direct connection from them to me. I know you, and I think I can trust you. But I’m not really comfortable trusting other people. So do me a favor and keep those layers intact. Or this relationship will end real quick.’
5
The concrete stucco and simple tiled roof of the team’s headquarters gave the impression of an industrial compound rather than a lavish house. Built with practicality in mind, not prestige, the building looked more like a bunker than a beach home. The squat architecture, perfect for withstanding the tropical storms and powerful hurricanes that threatened the Florida coast each year, was unassuming in almost every way.
From the outside, it reeked of modesty, not money.
But inside was a different story.
Nicknamed ‘La Trésorerie’ — the Treasure House — by Papineau, the four-thousand-square-foot home was adorned by the trappings of wealth. Exotic rugs, valuable paintings, and expensive chandeliers decorated the interior of nearly every room. Although the building was designed to keep them safe and included air filtration and water purification systems, as well as walls that could withstand a missile assault, the Frenchman saw no reason to sacrifice comfort.
Ironically, the team couldn’t have cared less about such opulence. As long as they had beds to sleep in, couches to sit on, and food in the refrigerator, everything else was unnecessary. They were here to train, not entertain guests.
Gaudy works of art meant nothing to them.
Unless they were part of a mission.
The morning had been relatively quiet at the team’s headquarters when Sarah Ellis burst through the front door like an angry bull. ‘Where is he? I know he’s here somewhere!’
Sprawled in a wingback chair in the living room, McNutt froze when Sarah stormed into the house. He didn’t think he had done anything to piss her off in the past three months, but he braced for impact just in case. Thankfully, she blew right past him without so much as a glance. McNutt merely shrugged and went back to reading the latest issue of Guns and Ammo, as if this type of thing happened every day.