there are only the guards at the gate?”
“You know, for someone who has planned some seriously scary stuff out to the last detail, you’re pretty squeamish about collateral damage.”
“I’m not afraid to kill someone if I have to.” The raging injustice and bone-deep pain swirling through the passenger’s heart made it far easier than even the mercenary driver could imagine to inflict pain without feeling remorse. “But I don’t want a high casualty rate. Too many outsiders would get involved then and he’ll lock down tighter than one of his vaults. Because I’ve mapped my strategy down to the last detail, I need to maintain control of the situation. To do that, each task must be completed the way I’ve directed.”
It was a lesson that had been learned the hard way—that there were steps, deadlines, terrible costs for not getting everything just right. It was a lesson that could never be forgotten.
“You’re the boss.”
“Don’t you forget that.” The enemy had. That was why he had to pay. “If he thinks I’m going to stand by and let him ruin my life, he’s mistaken. I intend to hurt him as badly as he’s hurt me. And I intend to strike where it will hurt him the most.”
“It’s almost time.”
“Stop the car.”
With the advantage of higher ground on the mesa where they’d stopped, the view of the facility was unobstructed. The boss adjusted the binoculars to watch.
“Five, four, three, two—”
The boss held up a hand, demanding silence, wanting to savor this first triumph.
It started as a rumble, a sound so deep they felt the tremors through the ground, vibrating up through their feet and legs seconds before hearing the first pop. Then there was a flash of light, followed by that distinctive whoosh as the initial ignition in the plant’s disposal chamber sucked all the oxygen from the surrounding rooms. There was a split second of silence, the anticipation leaving them all holding their breaths. And then…boom. Boom. Boom! One by one the explosions fired off, each one larger than the last, tearing through the shiny new facility, spewing flames and steel and glass into the air. Thick black smoke coiled upward, forming dense black clouds against the desert’s crystal blue sky. In a matter of seconds, there was nothing left of Gallagher Security Systems’s newest production facility except mangled webs of steel and burning rubble.
The team of mercenaries watching alongside had done their job well. The boss lowered the binoculars and watched it burn, feeling the heat even at this distance.
The satisfaction was intense.
Payback had begun.
Chapter One
7 Days until Midnight, New Year’s Eve
“Someone is trying to destroy me.”
Quinn Gallagher touched the temple of his dark-framed glasses, an ingrained habit left over from his youth, when he’d been a four-eyed brainiac from a rural Missouri trailer park who’d learned how to defend himself and his mother from the respective bullies who’d preyed on them. He was no longer poor, no longer had his beloved mother—and up until the murder of his wife, Valeska, nearly three years earlier, he’d believed that he no longer feared anything.
Now three employees that he’d never met, but for whom he certainly felt responsible, were dead in a foreign country. And the office building that he’d closed for the holidays, with paid vacations off for all but the skeleton crew of security guards receiving overtime pay, was being searched from basement to rooftop by a team of black-uniformed cops, armed like the special-ops security details his company outfitted for wealthy individuals and companies across the country. The captain of KCPD’s SWAT Team 1, Michael Cutler, often served as a consultant to GSS when they were developing new weapons, protective gear and security technology.
He was also one of the few men in this world Quinn Gallagher trusted without question. He strode into the penthouse office suite with a disturbing yet unsurprising announcement. “Thus far, we’ve found no sign of forced entry into the building or your office. I’ve got my team checking the top floor here now. Of course, this place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Whoever got in had to have the same kind of talents you possess.” It was a wry compliment. An enemy with Quinn’s technical skills would be a formidable opponent, indeed. The SWAT captain turned toward the small, unwrapped Christmas present Quinn had left on his desk. “Don’t let me or my men interrupt your meeting.”
“Come and go as you need, Michael. Thanks.” Quinn adjusted the knot of his silk tie and paced the length of his office. The men and woman in suits on the matching sofas waited expectantly for some sign that he was ready for their problem-solving input. But none of them dared offer any personal condolence or sympathetic look. He paid them exceedingly well to be the best at the jobs they’d been hired to do, not to be his friends. That was a bonus he rarely bestowed on the people around him. Caring had cost him dearly—when he’d lost his mother, and three years ago when he’d lost his wife.
He didn’t need the distraction of emotional ties to interfere with the efficiency of this Christmas Eve meeting. And his people knew that. Keeping an eye on Michael Cutler and the furtive movements of the rest of his five-man team through the chrome-and-glass partition separating his office from the rest of the floor, Quinn turned his attention back to the executives who’d been able to report on such short notice.
Louis Nolan, his vice president of operations and Quinn’s eyes on every aspect of Gallagher Security Systems, was speaking. “I’ve already been on the phone with Nikolai Titov, our primary investor there. He wants answers.”
“He’ll know them as soon as I have them,” Quinn promised.
“The Kalahari plant hadn’t even begun production yet,” Louis continued. “We were still in the hiring process with the locals. I know we were building there to save money, but now we’re posting a loss on GSS’s bottom line and facing speculation from the press. Titov’s already putting the pressure on to let him reopen and expand the St. Feodor plant in Lukinburg. The last thing we need right now are nervous stockholders. I think we should entertain his offer before this unfortunate incident turns into a catastrophe.”
As Quinn suspected, his security chief, David Damiani, wasted no time pushing to his feet and confronting the older businessman. “Unfortunate? I lost three good men in that explosion. Try making that phone call to their families when Christmas is tomorrow.”
“I’m not denigrating the loss of life.” Louis was a cagey old salt who had no problem defending himself. “I’m pointing out that this could be an environmental or political attack on GSS’s expansion into South Africa. I know our base of operation here in Kansas City is thousands of miles away, but this could snowball into a real tragedy if we don’t spin some control over the situation in the next few days, if not the next few hours.”
David raked his hands through his hair, the movement exposing the Beretta he wore holstered beneath his left arm. “It’s already snowballing, Lou. How do you explain someone breaking into GSS headquarters when we’ve got the best damn techno-security on the planet? I can’t. As far as I can see, we’re already under attack.”
“Gentlemen,” Elise Brown intervened. Quinn knew his executive assistant could be counted on to keep everyone focused and moving forward. “None of us are thrilled to be taken away from our families and vacations at this time of year, and certainly
