Read Online Bitter Harvest (Harvest Trilogy, Book 2) by Michael R. Hicks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael R. Hicks
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Jack blinked and shook his head. “Five mil? Seriously?”
“Yep. And his people are going to take care of finding us a place to live here and selling the house there. It’s all set. So get your buns out here as soon as you can.”
Naomi watched as a huge weight seemed to fall from Jack’s shoulders. Then a sly grin crept onto his face. “You know,” he told her slowly, “I could probably get used to being a kept man. Being a gigolo to a genius millionaire sure as hell beats working as a government manager or FBI agent.”
“I’ll still make you earn your keep, you know.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Naomi’s expression suddenly became more thoughtful. Troubled. “Jack, there’s one thing that I need you to look into. I got a call from Vijay Chidambaram this morning.”
“The bee and worm guy? What did he say?”
“That’s the problem. He didn’t say anything. When I answered the call, I heard, I don’t know, like a big boom and maybe a scream on his end. It was really distorted and I’m not really sure. What bothers me is that I’ve tried to call him back several times, and I’ve only gotten an out of service recording. I haven’t been able to track down his family on the web, and I want you to check on him for me, if you could. I want to make sure he’s all right.”
While SEAL was being shut down, Jack still had all his security clearances and access to nearly every system in the intelligence community. He likely wouldn’t have to dig very deep to find Vijay, but he still had the resources to dig as far as he needed, at least for the next few days.
“You’ve got it. Anything else for your pleasure, ma’am?”
“You’ll find out when you get here,” she purred. “That, I can promise.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Lights.” Mikhailov’s quiet order echoed through the eerie darkness that filled the lobby of the lab building. Aside from the glass door, there were no windows, and the lights were off. He stood behind the men of the first squad, who had spread out across the lobby, covering the reception desk and the three closed doors behind it.
One of the men reached for the bank of light switches near the entry door and switched them on.
Nothing.
“Tactical lights.”
His men turned on the small but intense flashlights attached to their weapons.
“ Bozhe moi ,” someone whispered.
In the harsh beams, Mikhailov could see that this part of the building had been reduced to a shambles. The reception area was also likely the lab’s administration office, for he saw desks, file cabinets, and computers. Or what was left of them.
The place looked like a tornado had whipped through it. Or a battle had been fought.
Moving forward slowly until he could see behind the counter that ran from one side of the room to the other, Mikhailov could see that the big metal filing cabinets had been upended, and one of them had been crushed in the middle and was covered with dried blood and flecks of gore. Papers were spread everywhere, crumpled and torn, many of them stained with spatters of crimson. The white tile of the floor was splashed with stains of dark brown. Blood.
Of the computers, one looked as if it were half melted. Of the others, all that was left was metal and silicon. Everything that had been made of plastic or rubber was gone. Mikhailov saw a pile of electronic components that he suddenly realized had once been a telephone, now without its plastic skeleton.
Rudenko pointed to the door on the right, and Mikhailov nodded. While one soldier yanked the door open, two more moved through and cleared the room beyond. The pair of desks inside were upended, their blood-splashed white laminate tops facing the doorway. The tops had also been slashed and scored, and the end of one had been lopped off. There were also a half dozen holes in each desk in various places, about as big around as his little finger. At first he thought they were bullet holes, but they didn’t have the paint
“Yep. And his people are going to take care of finding us a place to live here and selling the house there. It’s all set. So get your buns out here as soon as you can.”
Naomi watched as a huge weight seemed to fall from Jack’s shoulders. Then a sly grin crept onto his face. “You know,” he told her slowly, “I could probably get used to being a kept man. Being a gigolo to a genius millionaire sure as hell beats working as a government manager or FBI agent.”
“I’ll still make you earn your keep, you know.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Naomi’s expression suddenly became more thoughtful. Troubled. “Jack, there’s one thing that I need you to look into. I got a call from Vijay Chidambaram this morning.”
“The bee and worm guy? What did he say?”
“That’s the problem. He didn’t say anything. When I answered the call, I heard, I don’t know, like a big boom and maybe a scream on his end. It was really distorted and I’m not really sure. What bothers me is that I’ve tried to call him back several times, and I’ve only gotten an out of service recording. I haven’t been able to track down his family on the web, and I want you to check on him for me, if you could. I want to make sure he’s all right.”
While SEAL was being shut down, Jack still had all his security clearances and access to nearly every system in the intelligence community. He likely wouldn’t have to dig very deep to find Vijay, but he still had the resources to dig as far as he needed, at least for the next few days.
“You’ve got it. Anything else for your pleasure, ma’am?”
“You’ll find out when you get here,” she purred. “That, I can promise.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Lights.” Mikhailov’s quiet order echoed through the eerie darkness that filled the lobby of the lab building. Aside from the glass door, there were no windows, and the lights were off. He stood behind the men of the first squad, who had spread out across the lobby, covering the reception desk and the three closed doors behind it.
One of the men reached for the bank of light switches near the entry door and switched them on.
Nothing.
“Tactical lights.”
His men turned on the small but intense flashlights attached to their weapons.
“ Bozhe moi ,” someone whispered.
In the harsh beams, Mikhailov could see that this part of the building had been reduced to a shambles. The reception area was also likely the lab’s administration office, for he saw desks, file cabinets, and computers. Or what was left of them.
The place looked like a tornado had whipped through it. Or a battle had been fought.
Moving forward slowly until he could see behind the counter that ran from one side of the room to the other, Mikhailov could see that the big metal filing cabinets had been upended, and one of them had been crushed in the middle and was covered with dried blood and flecks of gore. Papers were spread everywhere, crumpled and torn, many of them stained with spatters of crimson. The white tile of the floor was splashed with stains of dark brown. Blood.
Of the computers, one looked as if it were half melted. Of the others, all that was left was metal and silicon. Everything that had been made of plastic or rubber was gone. Mikhailov saw a pile of electronic components that he suddenly realized had once been a telephone, now without its plastic skeleton.
Rudenko pointed to the door on the right, and Mikhailov nodded. While one soldier yanked the door open, two more moved through and cleared the room beyond. The pair of desks inside were upended, their blood-splashed white laminate tops facing the doorway. The tops had also been slashed and scored, and the end of one had been lopped off. There were also a half dozen holes in each desk in various places, about as big around as his little finger. At first he thought they were bullet holes, but they didn’t have the paint
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