he did, the partygoers erupted – not only would they be able to open the remaining bottles of beer, but most of them had wagered on the success of his mission.
‘Shit!’ shouted David Jones, who had lost big money on his best friend. Although DJ had served with Payne in the military and knew what he was capable of, he hadn’t thought anyone could find such a small object on his first dive into the murky river. ‘Hold up! Let me see it.’
Payne swam slowly to the boat and handed it to Jones. ‘Please don’t drop it again.’
‘What do you mean
‘Well, someone did, and it happened on your watch.’
‘My watch? Why is it
Payne used the dive ladder on the back of his yacht to climb out of the water. Per tradition, he threw a party on the last weekend of summer to commemorate the end of the boating season. After today, his boat would be dry-docked for the cold months ahead.
‘As captain of this vessel, I’m putting you in charge of the bottle opener.’
Jones handed him a towel. ‘And what if I decline?’
‘Then you’re in charge of clean up.’
‘Screw that! I don’t do garbage. I’ll guard this opener with my life.’
‘Yeah,’ Payne grunted, ‘I had a feeling you’d say that.’
To the outside world, the two of them didn’t appear to have much in common, but that had more to do with their looks than anything else. Payne was a hulking six foot four with muscle stacked upon muscle, his white skin was littered with bullet holes and stab wounds, his brown hair perfectly dishevelled. He had the look of a gridiron legend, an ex-athlete who had lived his life to the fullest but still had more worlds to conquer. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had decided to sharpen the handle and use it as a weapon, serving several years in the military until his grandfather died and left him the controlling interest of his family’s corporation.
Unfortunately, he had been craving adventure ever since.
Jones, too, was an adrenaline junkie, but he looked more like an office clerk than an officer. Known for his brain instead of his brawn, he possessed the wiry build of a track star, someone who could run a marathon without breaking a sweat but wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Although his mocha skin and soft facial features made him look delicate, Jones was lethal on the battlefield, having completed the same military training as Payne.
In fact, the two of them used to lead the MANIACs, an elite Special Forces unit comprised of the top soldiers from the Marines, Army, Navy, Intelligence, Air Force and Coast Guard. Whether it was personnel recovery, unconventional warfare or counter-guerrilla sabotage, the MANIACs were the best of the best. The bogeymen no one talked about. The government’s secret weapon. And even though they had retired a few years earlier, the duo was still deadly.
‘By the way,’ Jones said, ‘I heard your phone ringing when you were underwater. What a
Payne growled and shook his head in frustration. A few weeks earlier, someone had figured out a way to change the ringtone on Payne’s phone through a wireless connection. No matter what Payne did to stop it – including purchasing a new phone and even changing his number – the culprit kept uploading the most embarrassing ringtones possible. Apparently the latest was a song from Menudo, the Puerto Rican boy band that had launched many pop stars.
‘Did you answer it?’ Payne asked, confident that Jones was guilty.
Jones laughed. ‘Of course not. I’d
3
The city of Pittsburgh sits at the confluence of three rivers, which helps explain why there are more bridges (446) in Pittsburgh than any other city in the world – including the previous record holder, Venice, Italy. From the deck of
As a teenager, Payne used to visit the park with his grandfather, who had founded Payne Industries and built its headquarters across the river atop scenic Mount Washington. Despite his duties, his grandfather had managed to find the time to raise Jon after Payne’s parents died in a car accident. Back in those days, when the steel industry was still the driving force of the local economy and the rivers were way too filthy to swim in, they used to play catch along the water’s edge, not too far from old Three Rivers Stadium. Now when Payne gazed at the revitalized North Shore, he saw two of the most scenic ballparks in the country, the Carnegie Science Center, a World War Two submarine (the USS
No wonder a national poll had named Pittsburgh the most livable city in America.
Still wet from his swim, Payne slowly made his way through the boisterous crowd, receiving hearty congratulations as he passed. Half the people were from work – mostly lower-level staff from Payne Industries who were being rewarded for their performance. The other half were business contacts and their guests. Payne was a generous host and got along with just about everybody, yet he rarely felt like he belonged. Except for Jones, there was no one on board he thought of as his friend. He was equal parts upper class and blue collar but felt stuck between the two worlds, unable to fully connect with either of them. Not that he was complaining. Payne loved his life and knew how good he had it. Nevertheless, there was a part of him that longed for what he had given up to run his family’s company: the action, the adventure, the threat of danger.
Everything missing from his current life.
Glancing at his cell phone, Payne noticed the missed call had come from an unlisted number. Based on experience, he knew it was probably someone from his former life. Business contacts, especially those calling the chairman of the board of a major corporation, wanted their numbers to be recognized in case he was screening his calls. But that wasn’t the case with military personnel – particularly the operatives Payne had met in the MANIACs.
They were more concerned with protecting information than supplying it.
‘Who was it?’ Jones asked.
Payne shrugged and typed in the passcode that unlocked his phone. ‘I don’t know. It came from a restricted number.’
Jones arched an eyebrow. ‘Maybe it was Ricky Martin.’
Payne ignored the Menudo reference and checked his voicemail.
‘Not even a smile? Come on, man. That was funny.’
Payne plugged his ear and turned away, trying to hear his message. Behind him, the party raged on louder than it should. Music thumping from his speakers. People laughing and dancing and blowing off steam. Tiny waves lapping against the sides of his boat while his best friend yapped in his ear. Despite it all, he heard the message. Years of training had honed his focus.
‘This is Kaiser,’ said the voice. ‘Call me asap.’
No wasted words. No wasted syllables.
Payne swore under his breath. This wasn’t good news. It couldn’t be.
If Kaiser was calling, something bad had happened.
Payne and Jones had known Kaiser for a decade, but didn’t really
Not his real name. Or where he lived. Or if he had a family.
But if they needed
According to legend, he was an ex-supply sergeant who had retired from the US Army when he realized he could make a lot more money on his own. He started his operation in Germany near the Kaiserslautern Military Community, the largest US military community outside the continental United States. Known as K-Town, it houses nearly 50,000 people. Originally he catered to these displaced men and women, providing simple things from home that they couldn’t get on their own. Food, clothes, movies, books – all at a fair price.
Then the Internet came along and competed for his business, forcing him to dabble in other things: weapons, smuggling, and phoney IDs. Pretty much everything
Over the years, Payne and Jones had done so much business with Kaiser that he eventually invited them to
