Read Online The Asset by Shane Kuhn - Free Book Online

need to work himself to death to protect total strangers.
    The idea that his entire career path might be some kind of psychological grief reaction based more in repressed emotions than in logic made him feel like an idiot. He had always prided himself on making rational, fact-based decisions, and now he was questioning one of the biggest ones. And once he got into the second-guessing game, no part of his life was safe. Had he avoided relationships, both platonic and romantic, simply out of fear? The way he had isolated himself was starting to feel more and more pathetic against the foil of Love’s open and truthful personality.
    He was preparing to hold his nose and jump into the deep end of gloom when his mobile phone rang. Blocked number. He ignored it. Couldn’t bebothered in his moment of self-flagellation. Then it rang again and he looked at the time: 3:10 A.M.
    â€œWho the hell is this?” he answered.
    â€œMonsieur,” a man with a heavy French accent said on the other end of the line.
    â€œI said who is this? It’s three in the morning.”
    â€œMy apologies. I work with Direction Générale de l’Aviation Civile in Paris and I am calling about a rather urgent matter. We would like to engage your services.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œAs I said, the matter is urgent.”
    â€œHow urgent?”
    â€œI am unable to discuss it with you over the phone. We would like to fly you to Paris for a meeting. Our private jet is already in Los Angeles and can have you back within twenty-four hours.”
    â€œThat’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
    â€œYou may name your fee.”
    â€œCall me back in ten minutes.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Kennedy hung up and considered the offer. What difference did it make if he went? It’s not like he had anything better to do. And they did say he could name his price. Seemed stupid to shoo away the golden goose for no good reason. And Paris in autumn would be spectacular. This time he would stay for a few days, on their dime of course, and enjoy the city, take a little vacation courtesy of the French government. He might even have time to pop over to London and pick Wes’s brain some more. And the man did say private jet  . . . The phone rang again.
    â€œI can fit it in,” he answered.
    â€œVery good, monsieur. We will send a car in the morn—”
    â€œThat’s all right. I’ll drive myself. Text me the details.”
----
    Kennedy took an Uber at dawn and gave his driver the directions the Frenchman sent after their phone call. He ended up at a small private terminal just off the Imperial Highway adjacent to LAX. There was no sign of anyone, and the front door was locked. Out on the apron, he saw aBombardier Global 8000, one of the largest private jets in the world. But it hardly looked ready for flight. The windows were covered, the wheels chocked, and there were no pilots or fuel attendants. He looked at his watch to make sure he had the right time and walked around to the gate. It was open, its heavy padlock dangling.
    â€œHello?” he called out.
    The pilots have to be here , he thought. Only an asshole would leave a sixty-­five-million -dollar jet unattended while they went out for a Frappuccino .
    He walked through the gate, out to the apron.
    â€œHello? Anybody here?”
    No response. No sign of anyone.
    â€œOkay, I’m out of here,” he said to himself.
    â€œCan I help you?” a man’s voice asked behind him.
    Startled, Kennedy whipped around. The man was wearing a black balaclava, pointing a gun in his face.
    â€œWhat the fuck—” Kennedy began.
    â€œPassport,” the man said sharply.
    Kennedy handed it over. The mask looked at it, then shot him in the chest.
    Kennedy panicked and looked down, but instead of a gaping bullet wound, he saw the red fletch of a tranquilizer dart jutting out just below his collarbone.
    â€œHave a