The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

head, stopping just above his shoulders. His hair framed a ruddy face, large eyes, large bushy eyebrows, and a large nose balancing large black-rimmed glasses. He looked a little flabby under his loose-fitting wrinkled shirt and jacket.

“Can you tell me—” Peter started.

MacBride cut him off as he raised his hand like he was being sworn to testify under oath. He punched a button on the phone on the table.

“He is here.”

The Jacob Kirkwood Boardroom was a monument to the Old Timers. A rectangular and windowless space. A massive mahogany table dominated the middle of the room, accented by Kirkwood black and gold. A dozen huge black leather executive chairs surrounded it. Twelve black and gold leather desk blotters, notepads, pens, and golden mugs were uniformly positioned at each seat. Everything prominently displayed the renowned Kirkwood block “Golden K” corporate symbol made famous through various iterations for over a hundred years.

To their right, another oak door at the end of the room opened. Peter tried not to look surprised when Kirkwood International Industries’ Chief Executive Officer Samuel Kirkwood, and Walter Jessup, Chief Legal Officer, walked into the boardroom.

MacBride stood. Peter followed his lead and did the same, feeling his pulse thump in the arteries of his neck.

Kirkwood reached out his hand and walked toward them.

“Hello, Tom,” he said, shaking his hand. Then he turned. “Peter, it is wonderful to see you again. I am glad you could make it,” Kirkwood said with a weak smile. They shook hands. “Please sit.”

Peter laughed a little to himself. Among employees, Kirkwood was nicknamed “Mr. Wonderful” for his constant use of his favorite word. The CEO treated everyone with respect. Peter knew Kirkwood genuinely appreciated the work of the competitive intelligence group.

Kirkwood took his birthright location in the larger executive chair at the end of the table. Jessup sat across from MacBride to Kirkwood’s right.

Samuel Kirkwood was small and round and pink. To Peter, he looked like what Charlie Brown would look like if he ever grew up to reach his late sixties. The new employee indoctrination to Kirkwood International Industries required a lesson on the founding of the company. Peter took it over a decade ago, but the room reminded him of the key facts.

Wilbur Kirkwood, Samuel’s great-grandfather, was an engineering visionary who started Kirkwood Equipment Manufacturing, as it was called then, in Chicago, in 1897. It was created to supply railroads with automated block signaling and train operation controllers. Wilbur Kirkwood expanded his manufacturing operations to build automated systems for the massive oil and transport monopolies run by JD Rockefeller. A few years later, JD introduced Wilbur to steel magnate Andrew Carnegie who bought Kirkwood Equipment Manufacturing products by the Rockefeller-controlled trainload to support Carnegie’s new enterprise—United States Steel Corporation.

In less than a decade, Wilbur Kirkwood shared brandy and cigars with the wealthiest men in American history. Wilbur passed the company to his son, Benjamin, who passed it to his son, Jacob, who passed it to his son Samuel, who changed the name to Kirkwood International Industries, KII.

“First things first,” Jessup said, lowering his voice as if someone was listening at the door. “Peter, what we are about to discuss should not be shared outside this room. Understand?

“Yes.” Peter nodded in agreement.

Walter Jessup was in his mid-sixties. An Old Timer. The lean and athletic lawyer seeped an aura of old-money Ivy League wisdom and prudence. His expertly cut hair was graying at the temples. His accent was eastern New England, and his sentences were delivered as if he were giving a final summation to a jury.

“Time is of the essence, so let’s get started,” Kirkwood started.

“We hope you can use your CIA intelligence skills and connections,” Tom said.

“How can I help?” Peter asked, swiveling his head to look at each man.

“You recall the contract we signed with Ukraine for our new KirkComm2400 line of equipment?” MacBride continued.

“Yes, sir. We were asked to do some research on it at the time.”

“Yes, I told Walt and Sam that. Maybe you can do a quick summary.”

“Well, if I remember correctly,” Peter’s eyes looked up as he went into recall mode, “we did a profile examining their customers, product lines, and legal issues hoping to find the company’s strategy and tactics. We mined their social media. We constructed a profile on Viktor Bondar, his daughter and, I think, his son—"

“And what did you conclude?”

“I wish I had time to re-read it. I could go to my office and pull it out of my files.”

“Do your best,” Tom said.

Peter sat forward. “The Bondar family is rich, powerful, and as corrupt as they come, even by Ukrainian standards. One thing was clear.”

“What was that?” Kirkwood asked.

“It’s hard to figure out why we would work with a guy who is the equivalent of John Gotti.”

“They are a strange assortment of people,” Kirkwood said, as he slowly rotated his leather commander chair toward the oil painting of his father on the wall above and behind him.

“You have hit upon the issue, Peter,” MacBride confided.

“There is a significant issue we would need you to help us with related to this,” Jessup said. He picked up his pen and absent-mindedly tapped it on his coffee cup.

Jessup straightened his back. His neck seemed to extend his head a few inches higher like a turtle. “It is, beyond a doubt, a critical issue.”

“What is it?” Peter asked. His hands started to shake with stress. He hid them under the table, but he saw they were more stressed than he was.

Suddenly, the boardroom door opened. A man with gray hair and a bright tie walked in. Peter was stunned. He knew exactly who it was.

“Danny! I am glad you are here. Just in time,” Kirkwood said as he stood, arm extended.

“Gentlemen. I sincerely apologize for my tardiness. Samuel. Don’t get up. Please sit.”

“Danny, you are right on time, as usual. This is Peter Schaeffer. He runs our intelligence function. We were just explaining the Ukraine situation to him,” Jessup said.

“Peter. This is Danny Chapel,” MacBride said,