only as a source of taxes, and a good accounting firm could ensure that Hendley Associates—The Campus’s official cover—kept a low profile: Just pay everything in full and on time. And if anyone knew how to hide money, it would have been these guys. Surely Gerry Hendley had enough contacts in Washington to keep the heat off his business. You mainly did that by being honest. There were enough high-priced crooks in America to keep the IRS and SEC interested, and like most government agencies, they didn’t go freelance looking for new crooks without a solid lead. As long as you didn’t get a reputation for being too good at what you did, or sailing too close to the wind, you didn’t appear on the radarscopes.
“How many real clients do you have?” Chavez asked.
“Essentially, the only private accounts we manage belong to our employees, and they do pretty good. Last three years we’ve averaged a return of twenty-three percent, over and above salaries that are pretty decent. We’ve got some good benefits, too—especially educational perks for our employees who have kids.”
“Impressive. What exactly do you have to do?” Ding asked. “Kill people?” He’d thought he’d added that as a minor-league joke.
“Occasionally,” Davis told him. “Kinda depends on the day.”
The room got very quiet for a moment.
“You’re not kidding,” Clark stated.
“No,” Davis said.
“Who authorizes it?”
“We do.” Davis paused to let that sink in. “We employ some very skillful people—people who think first and handle it carefully. But yes, we do that when the circumstances call for it. We did four in the last couple of months, all in Europe, all terrorist affiliates. No blowback on any of them yet.”
“Who does it?”
Davis managed a smile. “You just met one of them.”
“You have to be shitting us,” Chavez said. “Jack Junior? SHORTSTOP?”
“Yeah, he bagged one in Rome just six weeks ago. Operational glitch; he kind of fell ass-backward into it but did a decent job. The target’s name was Mohammed Hassan Al-din, senior ops officer for the terrorist group that’s been giving us a headache. Remember those mall shootings?”
“Yeah.”
“His handiwork. We got a line on him and took him down.”
“Never made the papers,” Clark objected.
“He died of a heart attack, so said the forensic pathologist of the Rome city police force,” Davis concluded.
“Jack’s dad doesn’t know?”
“Not hardly. As I said, his role had been planned differently, but shit happens, and he handled it. Had we known, we would probably have done something else, but it didn’t work out that way.”
“I’m not going to ask how Jack gave your subject a heart attack,” Clark said.
“Good, because I’m not going to tell you—not now anyway.”
“What’s our cover?” Clark asked.
“As long as you’re in the United States, you’re covered completely. Overseas is something else. We’ll take proper care of your families, of course, but if you’re bagged overseas, well, we’ll hire you the best lawyer we can find. Other than that, you’re private citizens who got caught doing something naughty.”
“I’m used to that idea,” Clark said. “Just so my wife and kids are protected. So I’m just a private citizen abroad, right?”
“That’s correct,” Davis confirmed.
“Doing what?”
“Making bad people go away. Can you handle that?”
“I’ve been doing that for a long time, and not always on Uncle Sam’s nickel. I’ve gotten into trouble at Langley for it sometimes, but it was always tactically necessary, and so I—we—have always gotten clear. But if something happens over here, you know, like conspiracy to commit murder—”
“You have a presidential pardon waiting for you.”
“Say again?” John asked.
“Jack Ryan is the guy who persuaded Gerry Hendley to set this place up. That was Gerry’s price. So President Ryan signed a hundred blank pardons.”
“Is that legal?” Chavez asked.
“Pat Martin said so. He’s one of the people who knows that this place exists. Another is Dan Murray. So is Gus Werner. You know Jimmy Hardesty. Not the Foleys, however. We thought about getting them involved, but Jack decided against it. Even the ones I named only know to recruit people with special credentials, to go to a special place. They have no operational knowledge at all. They know a special place exists but not what we do here. Even President Ryan doesn’t have any operational information. That stays in this building.”
“Takes a lot for a government type to trust people that much,” Clark observed.
“You have to pick your people carefully,” Davis agreed. “Jimmy thinks you two can be trusted. I know your background. I think he’s right.”