Primary Valor by Jack Mars (booksvooks TXT) 📗

had been quashed, repeatedlyreared its ugly head. When he left, it was beginning to make life uncomfortablefor him. There were whisperings on the social scene. His parties were not aswell attended as they had been in the past. A little time away, out of thecountry, seemed in order. Let things die down again. He thought he’d be back ina month, maybe two, but half a year later, here he was.

“I don’t really miss it,” he said.

And that was true, as far as itwent. He was going to be fifty-nine years old. His appetite for parties was notwhat it once was. In other ways, his appetites were as healthy as they everwere. But having lots of people around him, sycophants, yes men, blood suckers,and hangers-on? People like Jeff Zorn, the degenerate gambler, pathetic littlemoney borrower and late night bridge jumper? Darwin could live without peoplelike that. It was hard to believe that he had once considered Jeff among hisfriends.

The only worthwhile thing Jeff hadever done, in his entire miserable life, was give 21 to Darwin. And even thatcame with drawbacks.

No. Darwin would take theisolation here over people like Jeff, or Miles Richmond, or Bill Ryan, orinnumerable other parasites, knowing as he did that the situation would notlast forever. Life went in seasons, and this season of life was sure to end.

The thing he didn’t like was thefeeling of being driven out. He left Florida voluntarily, but there was acertain amount of duress involved. They had been trying to get him. And nowthey wanted to come here and get him.

They. Them. Who even were thesepeople?

Enemies.

Everyone had them. It was hard toreach such a point of absolute power that you had no enemies at all. But wouldn’tthat be grand? Imagine being so powerful that the moment someone even thoughtof crossing you, you simply ground them into dust?

It was something to strive for.

He suddenly realized that he didn’thave to sit here, merely waiting to see what happened next. Would his people inthe United States be able to stymie the attack before it happened? When was itsupposed to happen? When would he find out?

He did not have to wait. He couldtake action himself. He could bring the fight to the enemy. It was a Eureka!moment.

It occurred to him that what hereally had been doing was puzzling over the 21 problem in his subconscious. Giveher back? Not a chance. Get rid of her some other way? When he was younger, itwas possible he would have chosen that option. He had gotten rid of quite a fewover the years. Some, you could pass down the line. There were places in thisworld, notably the Sunni Arab states of the Persian Gulf, where girls of thetype Darwin preferred commanded top dollar, or even better, favored businessarrangements.

Others… sometimes you just had toget rid of them. They were damaged goods. Psychological problems, mostly. Failureto thrive. Trauma from bad upbringings. Those ones had to go. The fun wore off.

He sighed. Bad memories tended toweigh heavily on him. He could go that route with 21, he supposed. The route ofbad memories, of cutting his losses. But he didn’t want to. He liked her, andthey hadn’t even had any fun yet. He couldn’t just write her off as a deadloss. It wasn’t her fault that these people were trying to rescue her. Notreally. He should give her a chance before he took a step like that.

Today. Tonight. He would do it. Hewould give her that chance to redeem herself.

In the meantime, taking the fightto the enemy. Oh my. Oh yes.

That was the ticket.

He smiled and picked up the phoneon the small table. It was the same phone that he kept in his living room. Thebase of it was hardwired to the house. It was on a long cord, and he could justcarry it out here onto the terrace. It was a weirdly elegant thing to do. Heloved it.

Cell phones were for modern jerks.Darwin King was a throwback to a simpler, classier, better time.

He put the handset to his ear anddialed zero.

A moment passed.

“Operator,” said a voice.

“It’s Darwin. Get me an outsideline.”

“Of course, sir.”

He got the line, and dialed anumber from memory. Darwin had a near photographic memory for numbers, figures,contractual amounts, details of all kinds. He was practically a savant.

He waited as the call traveledthousands of miles to a place right outside Washington, DC.

“Hello?” a voice said.

“Do you know who this is?” Darwinsaid.

“Of course I do.”

Darwin smiled. “I have a project I’mworking on.”

“I might have heard somethingabout it,” the voice said.

“Yes?” Darwin said. “Do tell.”

“Rumors, nothing more.”

See? He hated that. Peopletalking. Especially a person like this one. It was hard to know who anyone was.The government? The CIA? Someone worse? The players obscured their origins, andhalf the time, you weren’t even quite sure who you were dealing with.

The thing to know was he had aproject, it was his project, and they worked for him. That was the importantthing to keep clear. And this man, on the other end of this line, had nevermade the mistake of seeing arrangements in any other way.

Darwin’s money was good, and theyhad mutual friends in common.

“I need you to do something for me,”Darwin said. “Right there in town. And I don’t want to wait. I need it donetonight.”

“We’re always happy to help,” thevoice said. “You know that. What is the nature of this thing you would like meto do?”

“I have a headache,” Darwin said.“Two of them, in fact.”

He could almost hear the man smileover the phone.

“We are the best pain relieverthere is.”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

8:35 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

An underground parking garage

The offices of Richmond, Baker, Hancock and Pearl

K Street, Washington, DC

 

 

“Do you know who I am?”

Thevoice came from the back seat of the car. Miles Richmond froze at the sound ofit. The tiny hairs on the backs of his hands, and on the back of his neck,stood straight up. He had just slid into the driver’s seat of his white Lexus. Hehadn’t noticed anyone sitting back there, but the lights in this garage weredim, and he hadn’t thought