Chapter 10

10

Around the same time the Centurion crew walked into the party in Rome, Braun’s assistant stuck his head into Braun’s office in Berlin. “Mr. Lawrence is here.”

“Send him in.”

“Yes, sir. Also, you’ll need to leave in ten minutes to make your dinner appointment.”

Braun checked his watch. It was 6:45 p.m. “Tell Dieter to meet me in the garage.”

“Yes, Mr. Braun.”

The assistant disappeared and a moment later Kelvin Lawrence entered. He was the head of Braun’s research department, and the one who’d been tracking down members of Golden Hour for Braun and Dieter.

“I only have a few minutes,” Braun said. “Where are you with the list?”

“It’s taking more time than I hoped,” Lawrence said. “I’m working as fast as I can while still running the department at the same time.”

“This needs to be your focus. I don’t want this to drag on.”

“Then, may I suggest adding someone to assist me?”

“Increasing the number of people who know about what we’re doing in not an attractive option.”

“I realize that, Mr. Braun. But I do have someone in mind, and she already works here.”

“She?”

“Jillian Courtois.”

“Who?”

“The new girl. She’s been here two months now.”

Now Braun remembered. Some hotshot computer geek that Lawrence had snapped up.

“Frankly, her skills are vastly superior to anyone else in the department, including me,” Lawrence said.

“I don’t recall her working on any of our previous special projects.”

“Not officially. She did do a bit on that job for the Russians but wasn’t aware what it was for.”

“What bit?”

“She’s the one who located Alexis Komarov.”

Braun arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Braun’s special projects unit had delivered the now-deceased Komarov into the hands of an oligarch Komarov had been bad-mouthing to the Russian president—apparently, with Courtois’s help.

“And she had no interest in knowing the reason we needed the information?” Braun asked.

“She’s completely data focused. That’s all that’s important to her. You give her a task, and she does it—and doesn’t ask why.” Lawrence paused, then added, “She’s not what you would call a people person.”

“I don’t know. I still don’t like the idea of bringing someone new on to this.”

“I think you would change your mind if you met her.”

Braun took a breath. “Fine. Talk to my assistant and find time in my schedule.”

“I thought this might come up, so I brought her with me. If you have a moment now, she’s right outside.”

Braun looked at his watch again. “I’m leaving in three minutes.”

“I won’t even need that long.”

Lawrence exited the office and returned with the woman. She was slight with dirty blond hair pulled back into a messy bun. Behind her too-large glasses, her eyes bounced around as if she’d never before been in an executive’s office. Perhaps she hadn’t.

“Mr. Braun,” Lawrence said. “May I present Jillian Courtois.”

“Hello, Ms. Courtois,” Braun said.

She bowed her head and mumbled something, without ever looking directly at him.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“H-h-hello, Mr. Braun,” she said, just marginally louder.

“Mr. Lawrence tells me you are very good at your job.”

With more confidence than her previous uttering, she said, “I am.”

“He wants to put you on something he’s been working on for me. Do you have a problem with that?”

She shook her head. “W-w-why would I?”

“It’s a rather sensitive job.”

Her brow furrowed. “I’ll just be providing information, right?”

Braun nodded. “But I can’t have you talking about it to anyone.”

“Who would I talk to?” she asked, genuinely mystified.

“I see what you mean,” Braun said to Lawrence. “Try her out. But if she can’t keep up, take her off the project.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” Lawrence said.

Lawrence and Jillian left, and Braun went down to the garage, where he found Dieter waiting for him in the back of the company’s Mercedes-Maybach.

While the chauffeur drove them to dinner, Braun told Dieter about the addition of Jillian. “If you have any problems with her, let me know.”

“Will do,” Dieter said.

They soon arrived at the restaurant and were ushered into a private room in the back. Their potential client, an Uzbek national named Orif Kim, joined them a few minutes later.

Introductions were made, and soon they enjoyed a lovely dinner of pork loin and white asparagus.

Once the dishes were cleared, Braun instructed the staff to give them some privacy, then said to Kim, “I understand you might be in need of our services.”

Kim looked around the room. “Is it safe to talk here?”

“You can rest assured that it is,” Braun said. “I happen to be one of the restaurant’s main investors, and had this room built to specifications that prevent anyone outside from listening in. In addition, it was scanned for bugs before you arrived, and none were found.”

“You are very thorough.”

“It’s our job to be thorough.”

“That’s good. What I’m about to say is purely fictional, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps there’s a country very much like my own, where a group of citizens have found someone who they would like to put in a prominent position. The only problem is that position is already held by someone who has become adept at abusing his power. A transition is desired, but…”

“But there are things that need to be done,” Braun said, “that your group of concerned citizens would rather not touch with their own hands.”

“Not my group of citizens. This is merely a story. But the gist of what you say is correct.”

“When would this removal hypothetically need to occur?”

“Soon, I would think. Perhaps even to coincide with our Independence Day holiday at the end of August.”

“A kind of celebration.”

“You could call it that. Of course, the group would still need to come to a final decision that it is the right thing to do, and then that they choose the right people to carry out the task.”

“In regard to the latter point, I would say they should look for a fictional company identical to my own. Such an organization would have the wherewithal to properly deal with the job.”

“I would think it important that they have experience in this area,” Kim said.

“I agree.”

Kim smiled. “I would also think that any potential clients would want to see proof of such experience.”

“Ah, that could be tricky but not impossible.”

“I’m sure it would be a requirement.”

“Then proof would be provided.”

“How quickly?”

Braun laughed good-naturedly. “Anyone who deals in this kind of business would want to make sure the client is serious first. You mentioned making a final decision. When do you think that will happen?”

“At a meeting to be held in three weeks, I would think. Fictionally, of course.”

“Then that’s when proof would be presented. Fictionally, of course.”

Thirty minutes later, Braun and Dieter were back in the Mercedes.

“That went even better than I expected,” Braun said. “But you know what this means.”

“We need to complete both phase one and phase two of our current mission in the next twenty-one days.”

“Not twenty-one. Fourteen. We need at least a week between the end of phase two and when we meet with Mr. Kim again.”

After eliminating the Golden Hour agents in the first phase of the operation, phase two would be a strike at the very top of the U.S. government. While the current leadership hadn’t been the ones to allow Golden Hour to proceed, they did now represent that government.

Braun would then use its successful completion to secure the job Mr. Kim had dangled in front of them.

“I hope this Jillian woman is good at her job,” Dieter said.

“Lawrence says she’s the best.”

“If that’s true, then we should be able to make your deadline, no problem.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

To Jillian Courtois’s surprise, the new assignment came with a private office. It was a definite step-up from the cubicle she’d been in. Now she could close the door and not be bothered by anyone.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like other people, she just didn’t understand most of them. Isolating herself was always her preference.

Her computer dinged with the arrival of an email from her boss, Mr. Lawrence. In it was the list of people he’d told her to look into, along with several outside contacts he thought might help her.

She read the list. It consisted of twelve names, four of which were highlighted in gray. She sent her boss a message asking what the highlighting meant.

Instead of messaging her back, as she would have preferred, he knocked on her door and stuck his head in.

“You can ignore the highlighted ones,” he said. “They’re deceased.”

“Oh.”

“Concentrate on the others, find out their locations, and whatever else Mr. Braun may need of you.”

“Got it.”

“Jillian, I can’t stress what an excellent opportunity this is for you. You play your cards right, and you could be moving up very quickly.”

“I see,” she said. Then she tentatively added, “Thank you,” when he seemed to be waiting for her to say more.

He smiled. “Be yourself and you’ll do fine. And get cracking on that list. Mr. Braun will want results soon.”

He exited and closed the door behind him.

She stared after him, confused.

She’d been hired by BLS straight out of university. One of her professors was an acquaintance of Lawrence’s, and when he heard the man was looking for new talent, he’d recommended Jillian.

At the time, she’d thought herself lucky as she’d been dreading looking for work. Imagining all the interviews she’d have to go through had made her skin crawl.

Now, thanks to overhearing the conversation between her boss and Braun, she was beginning to wonder if maybe she hadn’t been so lucky after all. It almost sounded like the results of the work she’d been assigned would be used in unethical ways. And what was that bit about the Russian she’d located?

She almost googled him on the spot to see if there was any news but stopped herself. She was being paid very well to do something she was good at. She couldn’t just throw that away.

Besides, Lawrence had been right when he’d said she wasn’t a people person. Which likely meant she’d misread Lawrence and Braun’s conversation.

That had to be it.

Feeling slightly less anxious, she focused back on the list. The first name was Danielle Verde.

She copied it and began a search.