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that Sheik Khalaf is coming to Chicago. How about Zahir?”

      “He will be here soon,” Javid said. “There are rumors he is betrothed with the estranged daughter of Khalaf, but his stated purpose in coming to Chicago is to meet with Quantum and to discuss the future sale of oil from Nurul. And possibly to convince them to buy from Imad.”

      “But he supposedly bombed Quantum in Reykjavik,” Andy said.

      “My brother negotiates with one hand,” Javid said. “He plots with the other.”

      Andy nodded, seemingly unconcerned about human treachery. “What can you tell us about the incendiary?”

      “If you’d like,” Whitney said, “we can review the specs right now.”

      Vincent nodded his assent, and the large high-resolution screen lit up with a three-dimensional blueprint for an incendiary.

      Once again, the door from the outer office opened, and Kathy the receptionist stepped inside. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have an urgent phone call for Quint.”

      “I’ll take it out front.” He rose from his seat, glad to be leaving a technical discussion of bombs and bombing.

      In the outer office, he winked at Kathy Renk. “Thank you, ma’am. All those switches and coils are way too much information for me.”

      “Me, too. When Andy explains mechanical stuff, it’s hard for me to stay awake.” A pleasantly plump woman in her late thirties, Kathy couldn’t be considered beautiful. But when she smiled, the world was a friendlier place. She pointed toward Whitney’s office. “You can take the call in there. It’s Daniel Austin.”

      Quint closed the office door behind himself, picked up the phone and said, “If it isn’t Daniel Austin, the head hound dawg at Montana Confidential.”

      “Surprised you can remember with that peanut-size buzzard brain of yours. How the hell are you?”

      “Can’t complain,” Quint said. “I’m in the middle of a briefing, so I got to keep it short. What’s up?”

      “What’s your take on Javid?”

      “He’s not afraid to look me straight in the eye. He seems a mite quick to turn on his brother, but I don’t know the family history. And, I’d have to say, Javid’s a real handsome fellow.”

      “You got that right.” Austin chuckled. “And don’t we sound like a couple of prancin’ Nancy boys?”

      “Don’t know about you,” Quint said. “I happen to be confident enough in my masculinity to notice when another guy is good-looking.”

      “Boy, you’re beginning to sound like Oprah.”

      “Well, perhaps that’s why I was sent to Chicago,” Quint said. “Now, was there a reason for this urgent call?”

      “The CEO at Quantum, Henry Van Buren, is an old friend of mine, and I’m worried about him.” All the joking left Austin’s voice. “I want you to take real good care of him and his family.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Most especially,” Daniel said, “I want you to look out for Henry’s daughter, Natalie. From what I understand, she’s a single woman.”

      “You’re matchmaking,” Quint said. “Now who sounds like Oprah?”

      Austin gave a hoot of laughter. “Seriously, how are things going with the set-up of Chicago Confidential? What do you think of Vincent Romeo?”

      “A good man.” Quint didn’t choose to mention his personal spitting match with Vincent which was a man-to-man private matter. “This is a real high-tech operation, and they’re doing just fine.”

      “Take care of yourself,” Austin said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

      “That leaves me a lot of room, sir.”

      After saying goodbye, Quint disconnected the call and returned to the outer office where Kathy Renk was scowling at a half-eaten candy bar.

      “Something wrong?” Quint asked.

      “It’s that new maintenance man, Liam Wallace, who thinks he’s God’s gift. The ego on that man!” She fluttered her hands. “Oh, listen to me. He’s got my feathers all ruffled. It’s not important. You go back to your meeting.”

      Quint smiled at Kathy as he returned to the special-ops room. The discussion with Javid continued, outlining the arcane politics of Imad, Nurul and Anbar. Why had Austin alerted him? What did he suspect about Javid? Quint wondered if the twin brothers really were estranged.

      As Vincent wrapped up the briefing, Lawson Davies was given the assignment of researching other terrorist groups and ferreting out possible traitors inside Quantum Industries. Quint wondered how he was going to be used in this investigation. Infiltrating Quantum was out of the question. Even if he buried his Texan accent, he couldn’t disguise his identity; too many people at the company already knew him. Nor was it likely he could go undercover with the terrorists.

      As the others left the office, Vincent caught his gaze. “Stay behind. We need to talk.”

      Quint returned to his chair. Idly scrolling through the information on his laptop, he paused again on the photograph of Natalie Van Buren, a lady who should be safe at her desk, escorting visiting dignitaries and sending out press releases. What was her connection?

      Vincent returned and took the seat beside Quint. For a moment, they sat quietly, allowing the energy in the room to settle.

      “When I started out,” Vincent said, “I never planned to be the guy behind the desk. The administrator. The boss. It’s harder than I expected.”

      “‘Uneasy is the head that wears the crown,’” Quint quoted.

      “And the butt that sits on the throne.”

      A joke from Vincent Romeo? Quint could hardly believe it.

      “Except,” Vincent said, “I’m not a king. We all work together, and I want you on my team, Quint.”

      “I’m ready to play.” Quint figured this was as close to an apology as he’d get. And it was enough.

      “I’d like to hear your opinion on the briefing information.”

      Quint glanced toward the woman’s face on the screen. It would be her job with Quantum to make sure these Middle Eastern dignitaries were entertained while in Chicago. “From what Javid said, I’m worried about his brother, Zahir. He’s convinced the world that he’s just a playboy, but his plan might be to take over the whole Middle East.”

      “Wish we had solid proof against him.” Vincent sighed. “It’s easier to go after known criminals. We know how they think, how they operate.”

      “Not always.” Paula’s death had been caused by a drug cartel, a viperous nest of professional criminals who had ultimately been stopped by Texas Confidential. Unconsciously, Quint’s gaze wandered toward a mounted

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