“Any effort to free George Abe cannot be seen as coming from me.”
Gibson understood Calista’s angle now. He represented the perfect cover. Given their history, no one in their right mind would suspect they’d ever work together, and his personal relationship with George would both offer an explanation of his motives and also deflect attention away from her. Textbook Calista Dauplaise. He might be a clever boy, but she operated on an entirely different level.
“I saw all your new security. What are you afraid of, Calista?”
She pursed her lips as if tasting something that had spoiled. “Colonel Titus Stonewall Eskridge Jr.”
“That cannot be a real person.”
“Ordinarily, I would be inclined to agree with you.”
“So who is he?”
“He is the CEO of Cold Harbor. A PMC—a private military contractor—”
“I know what a PMC is.”
“Of course. Well, Cold Harbor is an especially unscrupulous one. No mean feat. Are you familiar with the organization?”
Only by reputation. And it was an ugly one. Cold Harbor was known as a small but ruthless outfit that took jobs other PMCs wouldn’t touch. Took on clients that the United Nations would’ve preferred to see on trial in the Hague. In fact, if he remembered correctly, a couple of incidents in Africa had put Cold Harbor on the Hague’s radar.
But none of what Gibson knew about Cold Harbor was current. Back when he’d served in the Marines, the Joint Chiefs had leaned on PMCs to an unprecedented degree. At least until Blackwater drove into Nisour Square in 2007. Since then, the Pentagon had retrenched its thinking on the wisdom of unleashing mercenaries over whom they exerted little operational control.
“If I am,” Gibson said, “I don’t remember.”
“Oh, no, I will wager that you do. Colonel Eskridge was a close friend of the former vice president. Do you recall the men who attempted to seize you at the lake house in Pennsylvania?”
Gibson remembered only too well. Holed up with Jenn and Dan Hendricks in a house on Lake Erie, trying to piece together their next move. In Washington, George Abe had been arrested. Then men claiming to be FBI had rolled up to the lake house. All hell had broken loose, Jenn and Hendricks holding them off despite being hopelessly outgunned. Billy Casper had caught a bullet. It still amazed Gibson that any of them had survived the firefight.
Calista said, “They were Cold Harbor, working at the behest of Vice President Lombard.”
“So Cold Harbor also took George?”
“And have held him ever since.”
“Why would they keep him alive after Lombard committed suicide in Atlanta?” Gibson hung air quotes around “committed suicide.” “Seems like an unnecessary risk.”
“Ah, well, therein lies the rub. You see, dear Jennifer Charles shot and killed the leader of the Cold Harbor team.”
“They all died one way or another.”
“True, but that particular man’s name was Titus Stonewall Eskridge the Third.”
“Oh,” Gibson said, fitting that into the puzzle. It was funny how one missing fact could change an entire narrative. “So Eskridge is taking it out on George?”
“Oh, heavens no. George is merely bait.”
“For Jenn.”
“Eskridge wants her quite badly. However, from what I gather, Jennifer Charles is a rather gifted operative, and despite his best efforts, he has yet to corner her. So they persist in this game of cat and mouse. She has made several audacious, if failed, attempts to liberate George while inflicting not inconsiderable damage to his organization over the last two years.”
“How has this not made the news?”
“For the same reason that the catastrophe at the lake house went uninvestigated—Eskridge has gone to elaborate lengths to clean up after Jenn Charles. He has no interest in involving the authorities. Should he catch her, justice will be meted out in extremely personal terms. I shouldn’t like to think about it. His thirst for revenge has quite unbalanced him.” Calista paused just long enough for Gibson to wonder who she meant. “If you ask me, the entire affair has unflattering undertones of Moby Dick.”
If true, Eskridge was messing with the wrong woman. Gibson smiled inwardly at the thought of Jenn Charles waging a one-woman war to free George Abe. It at least explained why she had been off the grid all this time. Still, he couldn’t see how this served Calista’s self-interests, and self-interests were the only interests that mattered to this woman.
“So what’s Eskridge got on you?”
Calista smiled. “Prescient as ever. Colonel Eskridge has Benjamin Lombard over me. Several rather damning recordings, in point of fact. He and I differed considerably in our vision of the vice president’s future, and Eskridge blames me for spoiling his plans. In a fit of pique, he threatened to release them after Benjamin took his own life—expose everything to ruin me.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Because Colonel Eskridge is a pragmatic animal, or at least he was at the time. I helped him reconsider and see how valuable my connections in Washington could be to his business interests now that his patron was deceased.”
“You cut a deal with Eskridge.”
“Yes. A deal most unfavorable to myself, but the best I could hope for, given my tenuous bargaining position. It is an arrangement that I have tolerated for two years, however . . .” Calista paused to arrange her words. “Circumstances have changed, and my arrangement with Colonel Eskridge is no longer tenable.”
“How have circumstances changed?” Gibson asked.
“That is not your concern apart from the opportunity it presents vis-à-vis George.”
“Poor, dear George.”
“Precisely,” Calista agreed. “Colonel Eskridge has realized that the United States is no longer hospitable to his brand of PMC. He is in the process of relocating his operation to more permissive climes. Every two weeks, a Cold Harbor transport delivers personnel and equipment to Cold Harbor’s new base of operations in North Africa.”
“So? What does this have to do with George?”
“In eight days, George will be on that flight. Eskridge feels it will be easier to see Jenn Charles coming from Africa. Frankly, I think that girl has his number, but he’s not short of confidence despite all evidence to the contrary.” Calista added a thought: “In any case, this move to Africa will almost surely mean the end of poor, dear George.”
“And how does this advance your cause? It’s sure not poor, dear George’s well-being.”
“Well, no, that is your cause,” Calista allowed. “But so long as George can be convinced to keep the peace, then I am willing to let bygones be bygones. Suzanne Lombard’s affairs have been resolved in the best interests of all involved, and I have moved on from it.” Calista paused to sip her tea. “My stake is Colonel Eskridge. You get George and simultaneously end the need for Jenn Charles to carry out a suicide mission in Africa. I get the plane. Or rather, what is on the plane.”
“And what is on the plane?”