The Insiders by Craig Hickman

Author:Craig Hickman [Hickman, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Politics
ISBN: 9781439216040
Google: e2J2PgAACAAJ
Amazon: 1439216045
Barnesnoble: 1439216045
Goodreads: 6214717
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2009-01-27T18:30:00+00:00

30

Quinn – Lake Forest, IL

At precisely one o’clock in the afternoon as Quinn was preparing to join Vargas in the large whirlpool bath, the phone rang. He picked up the extension in the master suite’s spa and bath area. It was the voice of senior security officer Jackson Ebbs informing him that Dale and Shirley Frederickson, a.k.a. Deputy Director Wiseman and companion, had arrived.

“Take them to the library,” Quinn said. He knew that meeting with the FBI while Vargas was in the house presented a risk, but it also offered the necessary cover. Tate and his people had to be assuming he was totally involved and preoccupied with Andrea Vargas, which he had been. In any case, Jackson Ebbs and his security team were well instructed to alert him if anything looked out of the ordinary.

“Who was it,” Vargas asked from the whirlpool.

“Just one of our clients and his wife, Dale and Shirley Frederickson from Austin, Texas. I told you about them. They’ll be staying at the Lake House tonight, but there’s nothing to worry about. We won’t have to do a thing. I only need to spend a few minutes making them feel welcome. Stay right where you are until I can join you,” he said with a big smile. “Pamper yourself.”

“Hurry back,” she said as she half-rose out of the water and rested her breasts on the edge of the whirlpool.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Saying goodbye to her would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done, Quinn thought. “Believe me, I won’t let this take any longer than necessary,” he said, wishing for a brief moment that he’d never called the FBI.

When Quinn arrived in the library, Sam Wiseman greeted him and then introduced the woman standing next to him as Kirsten Kohl, head of the Bureau’s Corporate Crime Division. Wiseman looked like the prototypical version of a mature, experienced FBI agent, fifty something, perfectly combed brown and gray hair, even features, gray suit, white shirt, conservative blue tie and a trim, six-foot physique. His partner, Kirsten Kohl, was equally predictable, forty something, dark blue business suit, light yellow blouse, short brunette hair, plain features, and a stocky five-foot-eight-inch frame.

The three of them sat at the center of the richly decorated, knotty-pine-paneled library, while David Quinn spent twenty minutes recounting the Musselman saga up to this weekend’s celebration with Andrea Vargas. He then gave them his copies of the documents he’d signed. The Nevada corporation documents that showed his stock options as collateral and the Nevis Trust papers that showed the borrowed funds to buy ninety-five million shares of Musselman stock on margin.

As Kohl reviewed the documents, Wiseman’s clear green eyes studied Quinn’s face. “Are you ready to have your life examined with a fine-tooth comb?”

“If that’s what it takes to make things right—yes, I am,” Quinn said, feeling certain once more about his decision to bring in the FBI.

Kohl looked up from the documents at Wiseman. “I don’t think immunity will be a problem.

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