Free The Descent From Truth by Gaylon Greer Page B

zapped in the same battle that cost Faust enough mobility in his lower leg to derail his career. He accepted a pension for partial disability and stepped into the vacant slot at Variant Corporation.
     
    Then came the labor strife on that pipeline project, Dominga Koenig’s idea to arm rebel stragglers and pay them to obliterate the striking workers, and her decision to make Faust her “go-to” guy—although she sometimes teasingly referred to him as her boy. He handled that pretty much the way he had handled growing up in the wrong part of town and the way he had survived in the Army: Always be respectful but suspicious of people in authority. Assume they never have your best interests at heart. Understand that you are being used, and seek to use them in return.
     
    Meanwhile, he had a lifestyle he had never dreamed of in Waycross or even during his Army years. And he had his own private army in the form of Shining Path remnants hiding in Peru’s nearly trackless backcountry. They had proven useful several times since he employed them to solve Koenig’s pipeline labor problem. And they had grown eager for more action, hungry for the cash and equipment it brought. They looked to Faust for guidance as well as logistics.
     
    After this Colorado trip, with the technology he was procuring for them, they would become as formidable a fighting force as they had been in the 1980s, before American training and equipment enabled the Peruvian military to decimate the rebels’ ranks and drive the survivors into jungle and mountain hideaways. They wouldn’t be strong enough to take over the country, but they could dominate Ancash and La Libertad provinces, where Peru’s rare-earth minerals were located, and that was all he needed.
     
    Dominga Koenig’s scheming, her access to her husband’s wealth and connections, had made it possible, but Faust was putting the pieces together. And he would—
     
    His phone’s buzz pulled him from his musing.
     
    It was Flanagan. The resort’s security honcho said a helicopter was inbound with Frederick on board.
     
    “Send a van to the landing pad with a bodyguard and a nurse,” Faust instructed. “Also, send a van for me. And that guy you recently hired, Alex Bryson, send a helo to pick him up.”
     
    “Bryson, sir? You want to see him?”
     
    “He works for you because I put him on the payroll. Bring him in.”
     
    “He’s the one who caught the kidnapper. He’s on the inbound chopper.”
     
    Fresh elation flooded Faust as he waited for his ride to the helicopter landing pad. Dominga would be pissed when she learned the kid was still alive, but they had some time in which to wrap up that mission. Meanwhile, he’d win points with her husband for salvaging his “project.” He’d have Pia back, and he was about to be reunited with the angst-ridden soldier he took under his wing while commanding Special Forces in the Peruvian backcountry. He had become a surrogate big brother to Bryson, and the young soldier repaid him by saving his life when Faust caught a piece of shrapnel in that final, furious firefight with guerrillas. In Lima, Faust had a first-class job for his protégé. It would be great to have his only real friend under his wing once more.
     

Chapter 9
     
    Evening had settled over Silver Hill by the time the helicopter deposited Alex and Frederick at the resort. Two vehicles waited by the landing pad: a gray shuttle van and a black Chevrolet Tahoe that the resort used for hauling VIPs. When Alex stepped out of the helicopter cuddling Frederick, who had cried and fretted throughout the noisy, vibrating ride, a middle-aged woman in a white uniform emerged from the shuttle van with her arms extended. “Frederick,” she cooed. “Come here, sweetie.”
     
    Frederick wrapped both arms around Alex’s neck. The woman tugged. Frederick whined and clung tighter.
     
    Alex gently separated the clasping little fingers and pulled the tense arms from his neck. “You