Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
The other part of the citizenry is the überwealthy. Those in banking and finance have flocked here over the last hundred years, the wealth of the ruby mines like a beacon. Others who’ve come include heiresses and one-percenters who wanted a part-time home on a beautiful island with near-perfect weather year-round. With those people came construction of grand homes and mansions, fine dining, couture shopping, and expensive cars. You’re more likely to see a Lamborghini zipping along the narrow-cobbled streets than you are a moped, also a popular means of travel on the island.
Yes, I learned a lot about this very interesting city-state and garnered a modicum of respect that King Thomas spreads his royal wealth to his people. And while he is generous, almost to a fault, with his money, he’s also frivolous. He is splashy and spends on ridiculous things. It’s no secret to the world that he’s so rich, he could pay off a kidnapper every month and still never dent the interest he earns in that same period.
That makes him, and every member of his family, a high-value target, which is why I’m sitting in the security conference room of the royal palace in Bretaria.
We arrived early this morning and met with Dmitri Lebedev, the head of palace security. It’s really not just the palace he’s in charge of but the very personages of the king, queen, and princess.
I can’t get a good read on the dude. He’s old enough to be my dad but I wouldn’t want to tangle with him. He’s reserved and mistrustful, but hell, so am I when it comes to the business of protection. Kynan said he’s former KGB, although you’ll never find that in any public record or résumé. Such information comes straight from our government, as we vet all our clients as thoroughly as they should be vetting us.
I’ve got no qualms with his prior Communist ties, nor with how crooked and corrupt the KGB was. I figure if you’re going to protect a family such as the Winterbournes, you have to be as ruthless as they come.
In addition to Ladd, two other Jameson mates came along to the meeting, Cruce Britton and Dozer Burney.
Cruce will be more of a consultant as we get started. His background in the Secret Service means he’s got loads of experience scoping out places ahead of time and devising protection plans. He’s basically here to verify the final agenda of the princess’s travel in the US, go over the original plan we devised a few weeks ago based on her proposed agenda shared with us, and then head back to the States to finalize plans based on the scouting he’s coordinated.
Dozer isn’t an active agent with the company but rather our resident genius who Kynan stole away from NASA. He’s built like a linebacker, but his brain is bigger than his muscles. He currently helps run the Research and Development division at Jameson, along with our ex-con hacker, Bebe Grimshaw, and they are developing some freaky shit.
They’ve managed to develop an artificial intelligence they’ve named BOB for no particular reason. BOB can predict outcomes based on information fed into the program. Currently we use BOB, and Dozer, to help us plan and carry out missions by building hypotheses based on the information provided. BOB then offers solutions and potential outcomes so we can make well-informed decisions.
Super freaky shit.
Dozer’s currently working on his laptop, diamond studs glistening in his ears. Probably communicating with BOB.
“You got to admit,” Cruce says as he leans back in the leather conference chair, “this isn’t a shoddy job.”
I don’t reply. His job isn’t the same as mine. He’s going to help Ladd and Dozer work out logistics and manage perimeter support along with several other agents that will rotate in. He won’t be stuck babysitting, but whatever.
I can deal.
“Your asset isn’t hard to look at,” Cruce continues, his eyes coming straight to me, and they are alight with mischief and goading.
I shrug but remain silent. Not even going there because in addition to the very accurate and complete dossier I’ve read, which provided plenty of information about Camille Winterbourne, I googled the princess.
There were a multitude of paparazzi-funded photos of her in bikinis, sipping fancy drinks aboard yachts, and a plethora of red-carpet pictures of the princess in couture gowns. Every single picture, she’s smiling perfectly. She emits an air of superiority—maybe it’s the chin lift, maybe it’s my own prejudice, but no matter how gorgeous she is, she’s still a princess without a handle on real life.
At least that’s the prevailing theory I’m going with. I’m willing to keep an open mind, though.
“Stop,” says a female voice just outside the door Dmitri exited through to get the princess more than half an hour ago. Ladd turns from the balcony, eyebrows raised at the command within that one word.