Our doctor is trapped in a war zone in the middle of a remote island by a bloodthirsty rebel army surrounded by a vicious dictator’s army. The kind of ‘resources’ you’re spouting civilian fantasies about would blow it into a three-way war and get the doctor killed in the process.”
“I am merely—”
Case cut him off, again. “Isle de Foree is two hundred and fifty fucking miles offshore and none of the jumping-off points on the African coast are all that amenable to corporate bullshit. Corporate won’t save our guy. Quick and light will. He’s in a hell of a jam, and I don’t know anyone better qualified to get him out of it than Paul Janson. I’ll stake my job on it.”
“That’s quite an endorsement,” said Helms. “It sounds like you got the job, Paul. What’s this costing us?”
“Nothing until we produce your man. We cover our expenses. Doug gets the family rate. Five million dollars.”
“That is a lot of money.”
“Indeed it is,” said Janson.
“All right! Here are your marching orders: Save the doctor at any cost; spare nothing. ASC stands by its people. We are a family.”
“We haven’t accepted the job,” said Janson.
“What? What’s stopping you?”
“We need to know more about the circumstances. What was the doctor doing out there?”
“Doing? He was doing his job.”
“What is his name?” asked Kincaid.
Helms glanced at Doug Case, who then said, “Flannigan. Dr. Terrence Flannigan.”
Janson asked, “What was Dr. Flannigan doing on an offshore service vessel? Six-man boats don’t carry company doctors. Or was the OSV ferrying him somewhere?”
Again Helms looked to Doug Case as if the job description of a company doctor was not his concern. Case said, “We’re presuming they were ferrying him out to a rig to care for somebody who got hurt.”
“Why didn’t they helicopter the victim to shore? That’s how it is usually done.”
“Look into it, Doug,” Helms told Case. “Find out where Dr. Flannigan was going.” He showed his teeth in a grin. “Better yet, Paul, if you manage to rescue him quickly you can ask him yourself. Pleasure meeting you. And you, too, Jessica. I must go. I really do hope you take the job,” he said, and left.
“What do you say, Paul?” asked Doug Case. He was deferential all of a sudden, even pleading. He certainly wanted Janson to take it. Janson did not put much weight on that. People preferred working with people they knew.
“We will look into the feasibility of the operation,” he said. “You’ll have our answer in twelve hours.”
Jessica got to the door first and held it for him. But Doug Case called, “Paul, could you wait a moment? I’d like to speak with you alone.”
Janson stepped back into Case’s office and closed the door. “What’s up?”
“I really appreciate what you’re doing.”
“I will do what is feasible.”
“Once again, I owe you.”
“I told you before: If you owe anything, pay the next guy.”
“Thank you. I will do that. Now, listen, whether or not Helms is our next CEO has no bearing on this kidnap situation. Buddha is not retiring tomorrow. So don’t worry about Kingsman Helms.”
“I’m not.”
“What I told him is true. I can’t think of anyone else who could pull this off without accidentally embroiling the company in a fucking civil war. All we want is our man back. And I don’t have to tell you that it would solidify my position here.”
“If I feel I can pull it off, I will take the job.”
“Is Jessica Kincaid the sniper you told me about? The one who was the best you’d ever seen?”
“None of your business.”
“I’m only asking because I’m hoping for both our sakes that if you’re working with a woman she’s someone you’ve worked with long enough to really count on.”
“I count on her,” Janson answered patiently. “She excels at everything she turns her hand to.”
“A Machine-ette?” Case grinned.
Janson reflected momentarily.