think they’re gonna stop me from mining the interior—which I have the absolute right to do, by the way—they’ve got another think coming!”
Brognola snatched the unlit cigar from his mouth and waved it at the loudmouth on the monitor. “All right, turn it off. I’ve heard enough.”
Price was sure he had. However she would have bet her next paycheck the real target of Brognola’s ire was sitting in the third occupied seat in the room.
“As you can see, Mr. Martin is quite upset at what is happening to his family’s company, in his own country,” Christian Payne, the pallid, bloodless man dressed in a spotless, navy Brooks Brothers’ three-piece suit, said as he steepled his fingers. “While the US government has more pressing matters on its plate in other parts of the world, word of this particular...issue has reached the Oval Office and the President has tasked me with coming up with a solution.” The man spread his hands to indicate Brognola and Price. “Which is why I’m here speaking with both of you today. And I have to say, I did not appreciate having to wear a blindfold during the flight here. It’s ridiculous.”
Brognola leaned forward in his chair. “Mr. Payne, the security of this facility is a top priority. I’m sure the President holds you in high regard, but to be blunt, advisers come and go. I know you can appreciate that the whereabouts of Stony Man must be safeguarded.
“And so to the matter at hand... Maybe you can fill me in on exactly what we’re supposed to do?” he asked. “Babysitting a spoiled billionaire isn’t in our scope of operations and, last time I checked, Stony Man doesn’t have any surveyors on staff to scope out potential locations for another gaudy hotel.”
The corner of Payne’s mouth twitched but he managed to restrain himself. He was about to reply when there was a knock at the door, making all three of them look up.
Price’s mouth started to fall open when she saw Stony Man’s resident hacker, Akira Tokaido, standing behind a rolling cart containing cups, a creamer and sugar dish, and a large, insulated carafe. She quickly snapped it closed as he nodded to everyone. “Just brought some coffee for you all.”
“Um, thank you.” Payne seemed a bit thrown off by his arrival, but recovered quickly as Tokaido wheeled the cart in.
Price exchanged a puzzled glance with Brognola—neither of them had ordered coffee. What’s more, Tokaido was the last person they expected to see pouring it. What was he up to?
“Coffee, Ms. Price?” the young computer hacker asked.
“Um, yes, thank you...Akira.” She watched him carefully as he poured, but the young man gave nothing away as he placed her cup and saucer in front of her. It was only when she leaned forward to get a whiff of the brew that she realized what he—or more likely Aaron “the Bear” Kurtzman, his boss, and he—had done.
Oh, no—
Unable to say anything, she watched as Payne added sugar and cream to his cup and blew on it as he continued talking. “As I’m sure you know, Mr. Brognola, Australia contains vast mineral and rare earth resources that are necessary for industrial manufacturing here in the United States. Purchasing them from a friendly nation precludes the issue of trying to purchase them from other, possibly not-so-friendly sources.”
“Oh, come now, I’m sure your buddies in the Kremlin will spot you some of that rare earth you all seem to suddenly like so much,” Brognola replied as Tokaido set a cup of black coffee in front of him. The movement distracted Payne from seeing Price possibly wince. “Just get on your private line to the president—the Russian one, of course—and I bet he’d set you right up.”
Payne fixed Brognola over the rim of his cup with what he no doubt thought was a steely glare of his watery brown eyes. It was like watching a goldfish try to stare down a grizzly bear. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Price would have laughed.
“Mr. Brognola, I don’t know what you think you know, but I can assure you that neither I nor the President appreciate your insinuations.” With that, he raised the cup to his lips and sipped.
The expression that appeared his face would have been priceless under any other circumstances. Kurtzman’s brew was legendary for its ability to resemble something that looked and somewhat smelled like coffee, but that was where the resemblance ended. No one knew what he used to make it, or how he brewed it, but it was safe to say it was some of the vilest liquid on the planet.
For the first time Payne’s face twisted in what could demonstrably be seen as an actual human reaction. His lips pursed and his nose, eyes and forehead scrunched into an unmistakable grimace at the acrid, bitter taste.
“Well, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks state secrets like a duck...” While speaking, Brognola picked up his cup, as well, and took a tentative sip. “But, overall, I wouldn’t know, Mr. Payne,” he said after swallowing, “since the President only saw fit to grace us with his presence for about five minutes since his inauguration. Instead, I just meet with one of his representatives and we keep doing what we’ve been doing for the past few administrations.”
With a strangled gasp that he valiantly tried to disguise as clearing his throat, Payne put the cup back down on the saucer and pushed it away so hard the coffee sloshed over the rim and onto the polished table. Price regarded it for a moment, wondering if this was the batch that would finally eat through the wood.
Payne started to speak, coughed, cleared his throat and then tried again. “As I recall, that is the job of the POTUS regarding your operation, correct? To be instrumental in advising this...facility as to its overall mission and general objectives.”
Brognola raised a bushy eyebrow and even Price was surprised at the bureaucrat’s quotation of the document that delineated, in the broadest terms, the arms-length agreement between the White House and the Farm—an arrangement that had worked very well so far. Payne, as an adviser to the President, had access to very sensitive information at the highest levels of clearance. That didn’t bode well for Stony Man at all.
Lowering his eyebrow, the big Fed placed his cigar in the other side of his mouth. “Indeed. And what—precisely—does the President wish us to do about this situation?”
“Well...that’s the reason I decided to come here personally.” Payne looked around the room, which, while not richly appointed, was comfortable enough for those who used it on a day-to-day basis. “There has been some...disagreement over what it is that you people actually do here.”
“I’m sure you already know about my jacket with Justice, so I won’t bore you with the details. The operatives of Stony Man are professional troubleshooters on a long-term contract with the United States government,” Brognola said in a flat tone.
The answer must have satisfied Payne because he seemed to relax slightly. “That seems to be a fair assessment overall. And that is exactly what we need—a, er, troubleshooter to travel to Melbourne and look into this situation on our behalf. After all, the business of America is business, right?”
“Actually, President Coolidge’s quote is ‘the business of the American people is business,’” Price said. “It’s often misquoted, but it’s a rather important distinction.”
Her correction drew what passed for a glare from Payne. She barely felt it. If this was the best the White House could dredge up, she mused, the government just might be in worse shape than she thought.
“Regardless, we want you to send
