executing our own citizens without a trial.”
“And I think we have to protect our good citizens any way we can,” Hunter replied loudly. “We have to trust our leaders to do the right thing.”
“That’s a big leap of faith in this day and age.”
“In
any
day and age,” Hunter agreed, “but we have to. That’s why we elect them.”
“I don’t know.” Jack finished what was left of his scotch and put the empty glass down on the wall. He closed his eyes as the realization that Troy was gone finally started sinking in. “Troy did deserve what he got, Hunt,” he said quietly. “But I’m not glad he got it, I’m not glad he died.” Why the hell had Troy gone on that damn crab boat? Why hadn’t Bill steered him away from it? Bill had that power over Troy, the only one in the world who ever had. “At least, I don’t think I am.”
Hunter patted Jack’s shoulder. “You better figure that out, my friend. And you better figure it out soon.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed after a few moments. “I guess I better.”
Hunter finished his scotch and put the glass down on the wall beside Jack’s. “Have you ever wondered what Troy was really doing all this time?”
They were both facing away from the mansion, but when Jack heard what Hunter had said he turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
Hunter shrugged. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that Troy graduated from Dartmouth six and a half years ago, but he never settled down?”
“Not at all. Look, he was an endless-summer kid who never grew up. He loved how athletic he was and what he could do with all that talent. He loved being a rolling stone too. And he loved having all those different women.” Jack snickered. “And he loved that Bill paid for everything.”
“He was on the
Arctic Fire
to make money,” Hunter pointed out. “And he worked in that mine in Argentina two years ago.”
“He couldn’t possibly have made enough money doing those things to support himself in the way he wanted to live. He was a Jensen, remember? A
real
Jensen. He needed money, and he needed lots of it.”
“He wasn’t like that and you know it. He wasn’t materialistic.”
Jack was getting annoyed. “So what are you saying, Hunt? Spin it out for me.”
“I wonder if there was more going on with him than we realized. I’ve always wondered that.”
“Like
what
?”
Hunter shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about ever since I heard he died.”
Jack grabbed his glass off the wall. “Ah, you’ve always been a conspiracy guy. Accept the situation for what it is. A rich kid taking advantage of what he fell into just by being born.”
“Maybe,” Hunter said quietly, “but maybe not.”
Jack waved at Hunter dismissively and shook his head. “I’m getting another drink.”
As he stalked toward the bar, Hunter’s words echoed in his head. Jack had been wondering the same thing for a while.
CHAPTER 9
“G OOD AFTERNOON , Mr. President.”
Carlson rose stiffly from the leather couch and extended his right hand beneath a practiced smile of indifference that came to his face automatically within the walls of the Oval Office after so many years. This was the eighth administration he’d served, and it no longer impressed him that he had direct access to the person the public and the press called the most powerful man in the world. Now he was more impressed by people who actually risked their lives every day in the shadows. People like Shane Maddux.
“I trust you’ve been well, sir.”
“Of course, of course,” President Dorn answered cheerfully. “I’ve got the best job in the world, I’ve got a wonderful family, and I’ve got my health. I have no excuse for feeling anything but absolutely outstanding. It would be a crime for me to complain about anything, Roger.”
The president’s greedy display of appreciation for his good fortune was a function of being in office less than a
“And I think we have to protect our good citizens any way we can,” Hunter replied loudly. “We have to trust our leaders to do the right thing.”
“That’s a big leap of faith in this day and age.”
“In
any
day and age,” Hunter agreed, “but we have to. That’s why we elect them.”
“I don’t know.” Jack finished what was left of his scotch and put the empty glass down on the wall. He closed his eyes as the realization that Troy was gone finally started sinking in. “Troy did deserve what he got, Hunt,” he said quietly. “But I’m not glad he got it, I’m not glad he died.” Why the hell had Troy gone on that damn crab boat? Why hadn’t Bill steered him away from it? Bill had that power over Troy, the only one in the world who ever had. “At least, I don’t think I am.”
Hunter patted Jack’s shoulder. “You better figure that out, my friend. And you better figure it out soon.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed after a few moments. “I guess I better.”
Hunter finished his scotch and put the glass down on the wall beside Jack’s. “Have you ever wondered what Troy was really doing all this time?”
They were both facing away from the mansion, but when Jack heard what Hunter had said he turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
Hunter shrugged. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that Troy graduated from Dartmouth six and a half years ago, but he never settled down?”
“Not at all. Look, he was an endless-summer kid who never grew up. He loved how athletic he was and what he could do with all that talent. He loved being a rolling stone too. And he loved having all those different women.” Jack snickered. “And he loved that Bill paid for everything.”
“He was on the
Arctic Fire
to make money,” Hunter pointed out. “And he worked in that mine in Argentina two years ago.”
“He couldn’t possibly have made enough money doing those things to support himself in the way he wanted to live. He was a Jensen, remember? A
real
Jensen. He needed money, and he needed lots of it.”
“He wasn’t like that and you know it. He wasn’t materialistic.”
Jack was getting annoyed. “So what are you saying, Hunt? Spin it out for me.”
“I wonder if there was more going on with him than we realized. I’ve always wondered that.”
“Like
what
?”
Hunter shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about ever since I heard he died.”
Jack grabbed his glass off the wall. “Ah, you’ve always been a conspiracy guy. Accept the situation for what it is. A rich kid taking advantage of what he fell into just by being born.”
“Maybe,” Hunter said quietly, “but maybe not.”
Jack waved at Hunter dismissively and shook his head. “I’m getting another drink.”
As he stalked toward the bar, Hunter’s words echoed in his head. Jack had been wondering the same thing for a while.
CHAPTER 9
“G OOD AFTERNOON , Mr. President.”
Carlson rose stiffly from the leather couch and extended his right hand beneath a practiced smile of indifference that came to his face automatically within the walls of the Oval Office after so many years. This was the eighth administration he’d served, and it no longer impressed him that he had direct access to the person the public and the press called the most powerful man in the world. Now he was more impressed by people who actually risked their lives every day in the shadows. People like Shane Maddux.
“I trust you’ve been well, sir.”
“Of course, of course,” President Dorn answered cheerfully. “I’ve got the best job in the world, I’ve got a wonderful family, and I’ve got my health. I have no excuse for feeling anything but absolutely outstanding. It would be a crime for me to complain about anything, Roger.”
The president’s greedy display of appreciation for his good fortune was a function of being in office less than a
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