The Leveling

“You’re making quite a name for yourself. I’ve been impressed.”


Holtz nodded, as if this didn’t surprise him. “What I can tell you is that we’re well positioned in most of Central Asia, Turkmenistan included. You come to CAIN and you can run your own minidivision if you like, pick your country. Hire your own guys. I wouldn’t be in your hair. And I’ll tell you something else—I’m looking at selling in a couple years. A few of the big military contractors want to get into the private intelligence game, and it might be easier for them to buy CAIN than build from scratch and compete against us. You could make out like a bandit. We both could. I can show you some figures if you like.”

Mark didn’t much care for the idea of working for, or even with, Holtz. But he certainly wasn’t opposed to making out like a bandit. “I’m not saying no, but I’d rather focus on Decker first.”

Holtz sat down in his leather executive chair, popped open his laptop, tapped and dragged his finger on the touch pad for a while, and then grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.

“Here,” he said to Mark. “E-mail, cell phone, address on record in Baku. You’re welcome.”

Mark studied the information. “This is my address in Baku.”

“That’s the address he gave me.”

“Because he didn’t have one of his own at the time, so he used mine. I need a current address.”

“Then call or e-mail him.”

“I already tried. He’s either not answering or not getting his e-mails. And his cell phone number has changed. I need his real contact info, Bruce. As in, a way to reach him now.”

“Unfortunately I can’t help you in that department, buddy.”

“Doesn’t he work for you?”

Holtz moved his tongue around in his mouth before finally saying, “Not no more.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I don’t want to shit talk the guy behind his back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I don’t want to shit talk the guy behind his back.”

Mark just stared at him.

Finally Holtz said, “A few days ago, John Decker pretty much went AWOL on me. I don’t know where he is.”

“Went AWOL or disappeared?”

Holtz just leaned back in his seat.

Mark said, “What was Decker doing in Turkmenistan?”

“What CAIN was doing in Turkmenistan is classified information. I’ve signed confidentiality agreements with my clients, which means I can’t tell you jack and you know it. I will say this—whatever Decker was doing, he was doing it with full knowledge of all the occupational hazards involved.”

“Occupational hazards? I thought you said he went AWOL?”

“This conversation is over.”

“Bruce, I’m here because there’s been blowback. And I think it might have something to do with whatever Decker was up to.”

Holtz stared at him. “What kind of blowback?”

“Someone came after me. In Baku.”

“When you say came after you…”

“As in tried to kill me. Yesterday.”

Holtz took a moment to run a hand through his short-cropped hair, then said, “What makes you think it had anything to do with Decker?”

Mark studied Holtz, wondering whether he was the person who’d been CC’d on the photos and was just playing dumb. No, he didn’t think Holtz was playing. “Call it intuition.”

Holtz leaned back in his chair. “Intuition’s not going to cut it. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. And that’s final.”

Mark stared at the Dallas Cowboys pennant behind Holtz’s desk. “So I see you’re gathering intel on the Atyrau oil collection station. The one the Chinese are putting in for the Kazakhs, if I’m not mistaken?”

Holtz glanced down at his desk, to where the sketch of the oil collection station, the one resembling a subway map, had been.

“You already put it away.” Mark’s vision wasn’t so great anymore when it came to focusing on small print—he knew he should wear reading glasses more than he did. But the map had been far enough away for him to see it just fine.

“That’s classified information.”

“Then you should be more careful with it.”

“Up yours, Mark. You know, I don’t think you have a base pass. I think maybe it’s time for you to leave.”

Mark made eye contact with Holtz. “Bet the Kazakhs would be interested to know what you’re up to. Of course, if they ever found out, you could kiss the idea of ever setting foot in Kazakhstan again good-bye.”

Holtz crossed his arms in a way that made his biceps bulge and assumed an expression that Mark interpreted as an attempt to appear intimidating.

“Don’t go there, brother. I don’t respond well to bribes. Remember, we’re on the same team.”

“It’s actually called blackmail. And if I don’t get help with Decker, I guarantee you I’ll be on the phone selling this info to the Kazakhs within the hour. Whether you respond well or not.”