The Midnight House Read Online Free PDF Page A

he knew at Kroll and Brinker. Jobs that were too small for them, too messy, that pushed the limits of the legal. He wouldn’t mind those jobs. In fact, he’d like them. He took out ads on late-night local cable and posted on Craigslist and waited for the calls to come in. But with the economy lousy, business was slower than he’d expected. After a couple months, he wondered if he might wind up at GE after all.
    Then this gig dropped into his lap. He was sitting in his office, trying to think of ways to get his name out, when his cell phone buzzed. He didn’t recognize the caller ID. He answered anyway. He always answered. Couldn’t afford to piss off any potential customers. He’d probably work for his exes, if they’d hire him. Ex number one, anyway. Number two was a real piece of work.
    “Jack? It’s Vince. Heatley.”
    Fisher had gotten into a small-time poker game, mostly dollar-ante stud, with a bunch of retired FBI agents. Vince Heatley was a regular, former special-agent-in-charge of the San Jose office, now running security for George Lucas. Heatley was a solid guy, tightassed for Fisher’s taste but no worse than the average Fed. He usually lost a little but didn’t seem to mind. Which probably meant he had money.
    “Free for a drink? ” Heatley said.
    “If you’re buying,” Fisher said. And wished he hadn’t. He sounded desperate.
    “Meet me at the Four Seasons.”
     
     
    OVER A COUPLE OF BEERS, Heatley outlined the deal.
    “Ever heard of Rajiv Jyoti? ”
    Fisher shook his head.
    “He’s a VC,” Vince said.
    “He’s Vietnamese? Sounds Indian.”
    “You really are new in town. No, a venture capitalist. You know, they invest in tech companies, start-ups. Rajiv was early in Google. He’s worth maybe a billion now, a billion-two. Depends on the day.”
    “Nice.”
    “He’s looking for a new head of security. And he loves ex-govs. FBI, military. He’d probably get hard just at the idea of a CIA op.”
    “What happened to the guy who was working for him? ”
    “Gone to work for Larry Ellison. The CEO of a company called Oracle.”
    “I’ve heard of it,” Fisher said, though he hadn’t.
    “Ellison’s richer than Rajiv. Heck”—only Mormons and FBI agents said heck instead of hell, Fisher thought—“Ellison’s richer than just about everybody. Point is, Rajiv’s friends with George, and he’s been bitching to George about needing a new guy. George asked me if I had any ideas. I thought of you. You seem solid, and I know your business—I mean, I know the economy isn’t great.”
    “Personal security.” Not exactly what Fisher had imagined when he quit Langley.
    “You might like it. Someone like Lucas, these Star Wars fans get freaky about him. He really needs the protection. But Rajiv, outside San Francisco, nobody’s even heard of him. Probably he’s never gotten a threat in his life. He likes the idea of having somebody around, is all.”
    The job sounded less and less appealing. “What’s he like?” Fisher said.
    “These guys all have egos, but from what I see he’s low-key, better than average. You wouldn’t have to live at his house, anything like that.”
    Fisher sipped his beer. “I’ll think about it.”
    “Before you say no, the money’s great. Rajiv told George he was paying his old guy two and a quarter a year. Now he figures he’s got to up that. I think for you, if he likes you, he might go to two-seven-five.”
    “Two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.” The rent on Fisher’s office was five grand a month, every month. And the electricity, and the insurance, and the phone. And the alimony. Never forget the alimony. His exes sure didn’t. Suddenly, working for a venture capitalist didn’t seem so bad. “You think he’ll like me? ”
    Heatley coughed into his hand. “Before I called you, I checked in with a couple guys I know at your shop.”
    “You backgrounded me? Guess I’m not surprised.”
    “Anyway, I don’t think you should