71. CHANCE

I freeze, knowing whoever this is doesn’t want any attention drawn to himself, either.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“There’s a copse of trees to your right that leads onto a side street next to the park. Let’s just walk that way. I’ll be a few paces behind you, but my friends have eyes on you. Understood?”

I nod and start to stroll away, thinking furiously. Department of Defense wouldn’t take this approach. Unless they’re worried about making a scene with the CEO of Atlas. They need the company to perform a lot of the work that they can’t do themselves.

Unfortunately for me, they need Atlas Security, not Chance Talbot. I don’t have a free pass here by any means. I need more time.

I see three more men in dark pants and jackets step out from behind the elms as I approach. We’re well hidden from the concourse here, and the exit gate to the street is right nearby, blocking the view from where they’re no doubt parked. That’s confirmed when I see the black van a few spots up.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I guarantee you’re wrong,” I say as the three new guys step in my way to halt me.

The one who was behind me, an older bald man with horn-rimmed glasses, steps into my line of sight. He’s put the gun away, at least. Two of the others fill his spot behind me, trapping me in a square.

“We just want to talk, Mr. Talbot,” the bald man says. “We hope you’ll be reasonable.”

“Does it involve getting in that black van over there?” I ask, nodding toward the street.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“And you’d rather I didn’t draw any attention to us.”

He smiles. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

I raise my hands, palms up. “I’m a reasonable man. I’m glad you’re not willing to shoot me so close to innocent people.”

“Excellent.”

The guy on my left flank reaches out to push me forward and I snatch his wrist with my left hand, drawing him forward as my elbow drives into his side. It combines to throw him off-balance, allowing me to shift my weight and pitch him into the guy on my right.

Those two stumble as the third locks his arms around me from behind. The bald man is standing in front of me looking frustrated, so I stomp my foot into his chest so that he doesn’t feel left out.

The guy behind me tries to lift me in a bear hug, but I drop all my weight into my hips and root myself to the ground. Meanwhile, the man on my left has recovered enough to join the fray and takes a swing at me. A powerful twist of my hips pulls the one behind me forward into the path of the punch.

Now it’s those two who are disoriented, leaving me to spar with the guy on the right as the bald one struggles to his feet. We trade a few blows before the other two rush me. I know it’s a foregone conclusion – these guys are trained and I can’t take out all four – but by Christ, they’ll know they were in a fight.

“Enough,” the bald one snaps. “End it.”

I feel a hard lump sheathed in softness against the back of my head. Then blackness.

* * *

Consciousness swims back to me like a toddler fighting the tide, but eventually my thoughts manage to coalesce and I open my eyes. I’m sitting in a metal frame chair. The tingling in my hands tells me they’re restrained behind me.

Across from me is a distinguished-looking man with flowing silver hair and a dark suit. His legs are crossed at the knee and he’s looking down his nose through a pair of glasses at what I assume is a newspaper crossword, judging by the pen poised in his hand.

He glances at me over his glasses and smiles.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says. “I was starting to worry you’d been permanently damaged.”

The knot on the back of my head is still throbbing, but I don’t feel any real symptoms of a major concussion.

“I’ve survived harder knocks to the head,” I say. My voice sounds drunk to my own ears.

“I don’t doubt it. You’re not an easy man to reason with, Mr. Talbot. We’ve been trying to talk to you for days now.”

“Yeah, you even camped outside my door. Sorry for running out on you like that, but I was worried you might be trying to sell me Amway or something.”

The guy surprises me by chuckling. “Sully told me you were a smartass,” he says, shaking his head.

I try to keep the surprise from my face as that registers and take a moment to scan the room: featureless, no windows, just a big one-way mirror on the wall.

“You’re not DoD,” I say.

He grins and touches the tip of his nose with a carefully manicured finger.

“Can I assume you’re in a more receptive mood for conversation now, Mr. Talbot?”

I tug at the restraints on my wrists. “Do I have a choice?”

“Well, you could continue to struggle, or you can play nice and we’ll take those off.”

“I’ll play nice.”

“Good,” he says, producing a key from his pocket and unlocking the cuffs. “Wouldn’t want to risk that brain of yours with another thump. We have too much invested in it.”

What the hell does that mean?

“No doubt you have a lot of questions,” he says. “I’ll do my best to answer them if you’ll return the favor and answer some of mine.”

“Ask away,” I say as I rub my wrists to get the blood circulating again.

“Excellent.” He leans forward, elbows on knees. “First order of business: Sebastian Dacosta.”