"A man like you doesn't roll into a town like this, where a man like me happens to be working, for no reason at all." Sterling tapped his temple. "So, tell me what's going on, and I expect you, of all people, to be honest."
Doyle leaned back against the bench. He turned his coffee cup a slow quarter-turn on the table. "I am on vacation." Doyle tipped his head. "But Calusa Cove wasn't random. You're right about that."
Sterling didn't know if he should be thrilled that he was right or freaking out. "I always knew the agency would send someone. I just never expected that someone would be you."
"The agency? As in the CIA?" Doyle tossed his head back and laughed. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Why else would you be here if they didn't send you?"
"I doubt the CIA would trust me with anything, but especially not you." Doyle leaned in, forearms on the table. "I need your help on a job."
"My turn to say, what the hell? And what kind of job? For who? And I'm still skeptical."
"I'm not surprised," Doyle said. "I work for a group called Meridian Tactical. We're a little different than the Aegis Network, but not much. We do risk mitigation, executive protection, and some consulting depending on the client and their needs."
"Never heard of them." Not entirely true. He knew the name and had heard of the owner. But, to Sterling's knowledge, the Aegis Network, hadn't ever worked with them.
"We're a small firm out of Charleston, and that's our only office. Not like Aegis. I hear you're branching out to the Pacific Northwest."
"We are. But stick to why you're here, what you want with me, and why you lied to me about knowing who I work for." Sterling broke off a piece of his sandwich. It wasn't unheard of for other security agencies to reach out and ask for help.
"I thought it best considering we were in public." Doyle shifted. "My client has recently become concerned about foreign security. But what's especially interesting is they have connections to an op we ran years ago."
"Do I even want to know who or what op?"
"You might not have heard of my client. I hadn't."
"Just tell me who." Sterling hated it when Doyle, or anyone for that matter, played this game.
"His name is Granger Frost. He's the chairman of Ashbourne Holdings, which is a shipping and logistics holding company. Old freight financing, family money." Doyle's tone had shifted from relaxed with a twist of sarcasm to flat, emotionless mission planning timbre that reminded Sterling of his third-grade teacher. That man had hummed more than he spoke.
Sterling rolled the name around in his brain and pushed it against every op he ran with Doyle. "I don't recall the name."
Doyle turned the folder and opened it. The top sheet was a piece of paper on Meridian Tactical letterhead. Written in bold letters at the top was:CONTRACT BRIEF—PRINCIPAL PROTECTION & THREAT VERIFICATION.Under that was Granger's name, his company, and under that was a request for a specialty subcontractor. Specifically, Sterling Fox with the Aegis Network, Everglades Division.
Wonderful.
"Keep talking," Sterling said.
"Over the past six weeks, we've documented indicators that point to pre-operational targeting." Doyle tapped the paper. "A probe on his security system, both professional and residential. He's been followed. We haven't been able to get a line on it. There are some other things that have happened, and he's scared."
"Sounds like he's done business with the wrong people, and when someone does that, bad shit happens." Sterling wanted to push the folder to the side. He didn't want to be interested. The job sounded shady, and the Aegis network tried to stay away from getting tangled up with illegal stuff. Unless it was for the general good, then they jumped in with both feet.
"I won't lie to you," Doyle said. "Years ago, Ashbourne Freight, a subsidiary of Ashbourne Holdings moved cargo through the Colombia-Panama-Miami corridor. They paid money to crime families to be able to do so."
"So, he's one of the ones who didn't get caught, and now he's laundering money here," Sterling said. "What the fuck are you trying to get me involved in?"
"It's not like that. I'm a lot of things, but I have lines I won't cross. That's one of them." Doyle turned his cup, something Sterling had noticed years ago that Doyle did when he was under pressure. "My client crawled out of the pipeline six months after we pulled out…" Doyle let his words trail off, avoiding thename, Sterling supposed. "There were some big players left on the board after that mission. Our target only took out so many, and the rest scattered and rebuilt." Doyle ran a hand over his face. "My client lost nearly everything when he came here. But he was lucky. He was legal back then and he still is. However, he believes, and I have to agree, that the people with power who remained from that corridor have surfaced and they’re coming after those they believe turned on them."
Sterling pushed his mind back past the day of the mission. He went all the way back to the moment his boss pulled him into the office and handed him a piece of paper with two sets of names. One side listed those who were dirty. The other side listed those who were forced to pay.
Granger Frost wasn't on either side of that paper. Nor was his company. There were a couple dozen people like Granger Frost. Small freight and shipping companies forced to pay passage fees to illegitimate holding companies for the right to move legal product.
The worst part was the foreign government did nothing. Some of them helped and took a cut. Sterling had spent a year trying to take down the operation.
And then there were the names that only appeared in one place—Sterling's mind. Granger didn't show up there, either.
Sterling glanced between the folder and Doyle. "How deep have you looked into this Granger guy and his company?"
