The Janson Command Read Online Free PDF

don’t you hire the gunrunners to rescue the doctor?”
    Case laughed and winked again at Janson. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
    “What?” snapped Kincaid.
    “They’re gunrunners . They sneak stuff in; they don’t sneak it out. Besides, they won’t do anything to disrupt the next sale. If FFM is winning like Paul thinks, the gunrunners are going to tread very lightly, hoping to move up the food chain from runners to dealers by selling more expensive weapons to their victorious friends in the new government.”
    A cell phone buzzed. Case snatched it from a molded dock among the buttons and controls that studded his chair’s armrest. “I said no calls.… Right, thank you.” He hung up and said, “You’re about to meet Kingsman Helms, president of ASC’s Petroleum Division.”
    “We saw the video,” said Kincaid.
    Case grimaced. “Corporate arrogance embodied,” he said, and mimicked Helms’s speech, “ ‘It isn’t a matter of telling our story better. We have to create a better story.’ How about this for a story: Big oil and coal have squelched production of American natural gas for twenty years. For some reason the shareholders think the sun rises and sets on the son of a bitch.”
    “You seem conflicted about your employer.” Janson smiled.
    “Helms is top snake in Buddha’s nest of vipers.”
    “Who,” Jessica Kincaid asked, “is Buddha?”
    “That’s what we call the Old Man.”
    “By ‘the Old Man’ you mean American Synergy’s CEO, Bruce Danforth?”
    “Correct. Kingsman Helms is one of four men and two women who would eviscerate their own mothers if that’s what it took to replace Buddha as American Synergy’s CEO.”
    “Are you another of those men?” asked Kincaid.
    Case returned a cold smile. “Security is not on that career track.”
    “Security,” Kincaid shot back, “just phoned you a heads-up that Helms is coming. You’re keeping tabs on the competition.”
    “Security chiefs—and security consultants—are servants, Jessica. Which is something you’ll come to understand if you stay in our business. We protect; we don’t command.”
    The door flew open. The tall, blond thirty-eight-year-old Kingsman Helms barged in without knocking. “Doug, I understand you’ve called in the Marines.”
    Helms’s piercing blue eyes lingered on Kincaid. “Hello, Marines.” Then he bore down on Paul Janson. “Kingsman Helms,” he said, thrusting his hand out. “Who are you?”
    Kincaid hid a smile as she watched Janson step into the space Helms was heading for, blocking his rush, forcing him to pull up short. “Paul Janson. CatsPaw Associates.”
    “Which cat’s paw would that be? Keats’s ‘quick cat’s paws’ that kill the fat straggler? Or the cat’s paw the pope’s monkey used to pull his nuts out of the fire? Or our modern pry?”
    “We’re a full-service outfit.”
    Helms grinned appreciatively. “Nice.”
    “This is my partner Jessica Kincaid.”
    “Nice to meet you, Jessica.” Helms smiled, then turned on Janson in a tone all business. “So who are you two with, Janson?”
    “CatsPaw Associates is independent.”
    “Independent is small.”
    “The clients we accept trust us to be nimble.”
    “I question,” Helms replied coolly, “whether a small outfit can field the resources to do the job.”
    Douglas Case surprised Janson by interrupting, curtly: “Back off, Kingsman. This is my call.”
    Helms ignored him. “I cannot imagine the reasoning behind paying two individuals—one middle-aged, the other a woman, no offense to either of you—to execute the sort of military operation required to rescue our employee.”
    Douglas Case spun his wheelchair in a half circle to face Kingsman Helms. Then Case stabbed a button in the armrest that raised his seat hydraulically while the base extended wheeled outriggers to balance the higher center of gravity. Eye to eye with the executive, Case spoke in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
    “Imagine this: