Free Rogue Justice by William Neal Page A

inquisitively over the top of her glass. "Look, Mitchell, if you're thinking about calling in Atwater, I would strongly advise against it."
    Atwater was Darnell Atwater, the managing partner at Black Stallion, a private security outfit on retainer to CGE. A hard-nosed former Army ranger, Atwater used top-level connections at the Pentagon to secure billions in no-bid government war contracts, money he then used to grease the skids of his corporate juggernaut. Many considered his team of ex-special forces commandos nothing more than black-ops artists, gun-toting thugs, and money launderers.
    Chandler cared only about results. "You don't like him," he said matter-of-factly.
    " Like has nothing to do with it, Mitchell. The man's dangerous and so are his goons."
    Silence.
    "Look," Savannah added. "Before you make that call, why don't we explore some other options here, something that might buy us some time to think this through..." She stopped mid-sentence, seeming to recognize Chandler's impatience. "I assume bringing a whale in from another park is out of the question?"
    "Damn right it is," Chandler said, thinking that a five-ton orca could not simply be dropped into the back of a pickup truck. It was a major production, moving a creature of that size and weight, one that required an army of people, heavy equipment, and police escorts. "We can't risk the exposure, Savannah. It used to take these activist crackpots at least two or three days, maybe a week, to establish a command post and get the word out. Now, thanks to tweeting and all the other crazy shit, they're up and running in a matter of minutes. And their cyber-attacks are vicious."
    "Okay. What about talking to the Japanese or Russian whalers, then? They still hunt and capture killer whales, all perfectly legal far as I know."
    "True. It's also true my dad spent three hellish years fighting the goddamn Japs. He would roll over in his grave if I even entertained the thought. I don't owe the man much, but I at least owe him that . Besides I don't trust the little bastards, should never have opened a park there."
    "Yeah, well, that still leaves the Russians."
    "I don't trust 'em any more than I do the Japs. But let's assume for a minute the Ruskies were an option? It's still no good."
    "Why is that?"
    "For starters, they'd need a permit to capture the whale and that means full disclosure—who, what, why, where, and when. That document gets filed with the International Whaling Commission, becomes part of the public record. So that doesn't work. And even if it did, we're talking weeks, not days. I just don't have that kind of time." Chandler gulped down the last of his drink. "There's always the black market, I guess, but then we'd be in bed with—"
    "The Russian mob," Savannah interjected. "Don't even go there, Mitchell. I've seen their handiwork, some serious maniacs in that bunch. Those guys make the Sicilian mafia look like a bunch of country preachers at a church social. They'll want a pile of cash up front, more on the back end, and God knows how much down the road."
    "I agree," Chandler said, leafing back through the Vanity Fair article. "Look, there's only one way to win this game and that is not to play... which means the captain here is our best option. Hell, she's our only option." He paused, flipped the page. "This bit about the Dalai Lama. Do you remember it?"
    "Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"
    "Quite a bit, actually. He's got a lot in common with Sun Tzu."
    "C'mon, you don't really believe the Dalai Lama would condone this half-baked plan of yours, do you?"
    "No, but Sun Tzu would. He's the master of deception, remember?"
    Savannah picked up the magazine, quickly read through the section featuring the Dalai Lama again. "I'm not sure I see it the same way you do, but I can tell you the captain here is not someone who is easily intimidated. So forget about using Atwater and his Black Stallion thugs. I don't see her being for sale