Primary Valor by Jack Mars (booksvooks TXT) 📗

was a tall black man, fit,handsome, maybe mid-thirties. The guy had everything going for him. His sportsjacket billowed around him. He had a gun in a leather shoulder holster. Everythingabout this guy was stylish. He was the triumph of style over substance.

“Jeff,” the man gasped. “Let’sjust talk. You’re not in trouble. We don’t know anything right now. But there’snothing that’s been done that can’t be undone. I can tell you that much.”

Jeff backed away. He took a step,then another step. He was just a few feet from the edge now. He glanced downbehind him. There was nowhere left to go.

“I’m afraid you have no idea whatyou’re talking about.”

The man raised both hands. “Okay,maybe. Maybe I don’t. Even so.”

Jeff stepped backwards, right upto the edge, his back to the abyss.

“Look at it, Jeff. It’s a long waydown.”

And it was. He glanced back andthe water seemed far below, as if they were standing on top of a skyscraperrather than a bridge. He did a quick calculation: four stories back to theroadway, another five or six to the water after that. A ten-story fall. Itwould do the trick.

He raised his arms out to hissides.

“Jeff, don’t do it. You’re goingto die.”

Jeff nodded. He took a deepbreath. He hoped that death was just a long darkness and nothing more.

“I know,” he said, and let himselffall backwards.

CHAPTER TWENTY

11:15 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

Marriott Extended Stay Suites

Fort Lauderdale–Hollywood International Airport

Fort Lauderdale, Florida

 

 

“The man’s name is Darwin King,”Trudy said.

Luke looked at Ed. Ed shook hishead.

“Never heard of him.”

“I don’t know,” Luke said. “Mightring a bell, might not.”

They were sitting in the genericliving room of Luke’s incredibly generic hotel suite. It was nice, in its way. Clean,spacious, with a good kitchen. Everything worked. But it had zero character orcharm. It was a place for tired business people flying from Point A to Point Ball week to lay their heads for a night or two.

There was something bothalienating and comforting about it. If you were in San Francisco one day, andKansas City the next, and Chicago the next, it might be reassuring to stay inhotel suites that were the same everywhere you went.

“Well,” Trudy said. “Get ready,because he’s a corker.”

They were on another conferencecall with SRT Headquarters. Swann, Trudy, and Don were all still up and at theoffice. Luke might call that dedication, except it was nothing more or lessthan it should be. He and Ed were still on the job.

“Do tell,” Ed said. Ed had killedtwo men tonight. It didn’t seem like it had exorcised any of his demons. He lookedboth murderous and exhausted at the same time.

“Darwin King,” Trudy said. “He’s fifty-eightyears old. Tall, handsome, a lifelong playboy. He comes from old money, and cantrace his ancestry to both early Dutch traders who settled in New Amsterdam, aswell as fanatical Puritans who settled Massachusetts and Rhode Island, bothgroups going back to the mid-1600s. He grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut, andon the Upper East Side of Manhattan.”

“So he’s one of the people whoinherited this country,” Luke said.

Trudy’s disembodied voice came outof Ed’s phone, which was sitting on the kitchen counter. “He seems to think so.He’s believed to have a net worth in the range of one to two billion dollars. Noone can be quite sure, because much of his income comes under the table, and isundeclared and untaxed.”

“What does he do?” Ed said.

“His main business is arms deals. Hehas amassed an arsenal of old Cold War weaponry, mostly Soviet stuff, what wewould consider obsolete. He sells it to Central African warlords, despoticregimes in Central America, and rebel militias just about anywhere andeverywhere. He’s thought to have kept the civil war in Liberia going years pastits expiration date by dumping cheap weapons on any ragtag group that could ruba few dollars together. He’s ruthless and utterly amoral.”

“War is good for business,” Swannsaid.

“If your business is war,” Trudysaid. “And his is that.”

“You said it’s his main business,”Luke said. “What else does he do?”

“Oh, you name it. He owns a widearray of legitimate cash businesses, including restaurants, Laundromats, poolhalls, and video arcades. He has almost certainly used them to launder moneyfor South and Central American drug cartels. He is even considered something ofa loan shark, since that’s one of the best returns on money you can get. Andthat’s the tip of it. There’s probably a lot more that we don’t know about. Whatwe do know is he runs his businesses like a Mafia empire.”

“How does he fit into this?” Edsaid. “And why does stumbling upon him stop our investigation?”

“It’s complicated,” Trudy said. “Heappears to have protection at the highest levels. There’s possible intelligenceagency involvement, though all information on him held by the CIA, NSA, and DEAis classified, if it exists. He has an enormous Rolodex. My sense is that hisrelationships with Third World dictators, Swiss and Cayman bankers, militias,cartels, oligarchs, foreign intelligence, and various other flotsam and jetsammake him useful. He lived in Manhattan for a long time, and his parties therewere known as a who’s who of politicians, celebrities, and sports figures. Thetentacles of his businesses reach all over the world.”

“Even so, what does that have—”

“Here it comes,” Trudy said. “Hehas a large estate on Jupiter Island, Florida. His property is about twenty-fiveacres, with ocean frontage, gated and behind high walls. About five years ago,in response to several missing person complaints, the Palm Beach County PoliceDepartment opened an investigation into activities taking place at King’sestate. Namely, teenage girls from around the city of West Palm Beach andneighboring areas had begun to disappear.

“In general, they were girls fromtroubled backgrounds, broken homes, foster care. In a couple of cases, they turnedup again months later, and said they had been living on King’s compound. Thesuggestion was that these girls were either enticed onto the compound, or wereabducted and brought there. They became sex slaves for King and his friends,possibly including household names in the worlds of politics, internationalbusiness, European aristocracy, filmmaking, and other fields. Some of the girlswho disappeared never turned up again.”

“How many?” Ed said.

“It’s hard to say,” Trudy said.

“Guess,” Ed said, “if you