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 USSRequin), and the newly opened Rivers Casino.
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.
Call me as soon as possible.
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 know him.
Not his real name. Or where he lived. Or if he had a family.
But if they needed anything from the black market, he was the man to contact.
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 except drugs.
Over the years, Payne and Jones had done so much business with Kaiser that he eventually invited them to dinner to show his appreciation. In his line of work, face-to-face meetings were a rarity, but Kaiser knew if either man wanted to track him down, they could do it within a week. Not because he was sloppy or failed to take precautions, but because Payne and Jones were that good at their jobs. He figured, if they could find and eliminate terrorist strongholds in the mountains of Afghanistan, then they certainly could locate him in Germany.
With that in mind, he did whatever he could to stay on their good side.
But up until now, he had never called them in America.
Jones noticed the concern on Payne’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Not really.’
Jones lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Who was it?’
Payne subconsciously glanced over his shoulder. ‘Kaiser.’
‘Kaiser? Was he returning a call of yours?’
‘Nope.’
‘Then something’s wrong. Kaiser wouldn’t call unless something’s wrong.’
‘Not necessarily. Maybe he’s in the States and wants to grab dinner.’
Jones grimaced. ‘Did he say he wants to grab dinner?’
‘Not in so many words.’
‘Then what did he say?’
Payne cleared his throat. ‘This is Kaiser. Call me asap.’
‘Good Lord! Someone’s dead.’
Payne couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Relax, princess. We don’t know that.’
‘Speak for yourself. I can tell. Someone’s dead.’
‘Here’s a thought. Why don’t I call him before you panic?’
‘I’m not panicking. I’m predicting.’
‘Well, it sounds like you’re panicking.’
‘Come on, Jon. You know me better than that. If anything, I’m excited about the possibilities. Watching you swim for kitchenware isn’t exactly rousing.’
‘That’s funny. I don’t remember you volunteering for the job.’
‘That’s because I don’t drink and dive.’
Payne smiled at the pun. ‘Touche.’