Page 9 of Nash Falls

“And I think you, above most people, would want to do the right thing.”

“Of course, but—”

“And wanting to do the right thing means taking certain risks, deciding things under pressure, and having the courage of one’s convictions. I think you are that man.”

“But… but I just need a little time. I need to think about what you’re asking of me. The pros and cons. The downsides. It’s just how I’m wired. My God, wouldn’t you, if the roles were reversed?”

Morris looked like a salesman who had failed to close the deal. “All right, Mr. Nash, take abitof time.” He rose. “We will be in touch, very soon, to hear your… decision. And then we will go from there. With you.” He paused and added ominously, “Or without you.” He placed his card on the table. “If you need to reach me in the meantime. And, though it goes without saying, tell no one of this. Not even your family.”

“But—”

“No one,” broke in Morris. “But if you agree to help us you will assuredlynotbe going into this alone. We will also provide protection for you and your family. But I would also ask you to look upon this as an opportunity to get out of your comfort zone, all while doing enormous good and really being a patriot for your country.”

“Yes, yes, of course, jumping into the pit with dangerous criminals, always a bucket list item for me,” Nash retorted angrily, because he was angry.

“If good men stand by and do nothing? You no doubt know the rest.” He looked over at the wine chillers and the expensive coffee machine and the tasteful and original artwork on the walls. “And after all, thereismore to life than luxury.”

“And if I decide to do this and dangerous people go to prison, but others get away? What happens to me and my family? You said you’d protect us?”

“If necessary, you can go into WITSEC, Witness Protection.”

“And my wife and daughter? Don’t they have a choice in all this?”

“Everyone has a choice, Mr. Nash. And every choice hasconsequences. But they, if necessary, can go into WITSEC too.”

“And what will our lives be like then? I suppose we’ll have to move somewhere, have new identities? Will we lose all our wealth as well?”

“Those details will be gone over once you’ve agreed to work withus, Mr. Nash. But please keep in mind that we will bring your company down with or without your help. And much of your wealth may go away anyway because of that. I’m sorry.”

“But I’ve earned what we have! For over twenty years, I’ve busted my ass. And I’ve never done anything wrong.”

“That may well be true. But I can tell you that the Department of Justice will go after anyone who has profited off a criminal enterprise even if they did so unknowingly. You may win that court battle, but the attorney’s fees and the negative publicity? Well, you may well wish for the anonymity and the lesser living standards of Witness Protection over all that.”

Nash had one final query for the FBI man. “Why me, Agent Morris?”

“Look at it this way. We are giving you a chance to be a hero, Mr. Nash. To serve your country. And to right a terrible wrong. We would not have approached you if we didn’t think you had the strength, fortitude, and skill set to bring this investigation to a successful conclusion. We are putting tremendous faith in you, and we at the Bureau believe it will be rewarded.”

He then vanished into the darkness from which he’d first appeared.

As soon as he was gone Nash slumped to the floor of his beautiful home and contemplated how his entire life could have gone to absolute shit in the span of a mere twenty minutes.

CHAPTER

6

RHETT TEMPLE DRIFTED IN ANDout of lanes on the freeway in his customized Porsche convertible. At this time of night there was little traffic. It had been a hot day early on and then the rains had come hard and heavy, collapsing the temperatures. As he wound along to his destination he could see the line of blackened clouds rumbling off to the east, resembling a fluid mountain range.

He felt a sudden overwhelming urge and pulled off at an exit, skidded to a stop, rolled a hundred-dollar bill, cut the powder, and did a line of coke straight off the dashboard. He rubbed at his nose and snorted, sending the last few grains of the pure stock up his nostrils and rocketing into his bloodstream.

You had to pay extra these days to make sure your pills and powders weren’t laced with fentanyl or some other new synthetic, which could carry you away from this world in a nanosecond. So he got his stuff from a man he trusted implicitly—an old frat brother of his—who did a fine side business in the drug trade, and also had a fridge-size pill press housed in a cheap storage unit. The man also minted money as a concierge doc to rich hypochondriacs.

The wealthy wanted to live as long as possible for a simple reason—they were having way too much fun.

He drove on to his father’s sequestered compound in the hills. It was gated but he had the code—unless his father, Barton Temple, had changed it on him. Again.

He just likes to screw with me because he can. I’m only richbecause of him. But when he croaks I’m finally my own boss. So here’s to croaking soon, Dad.

As he got out of the car Rhett hocked on the aged cobblestones that had been shipped over from Prague or Budapest to finish off what his father called amotor court, but which most people would merely term a driveway. He took a moment to stare up at the colossus his father built because he’d been bored and had a spare $40 million in cash burning a hole in his portfolio. Rhett didn’t know how large it actually was, but the place looked like it deserved its own zip code. His downtown penthouse, which took up the entire top floor of his skyscraper, would have probably fit in the kitchen of this sucker.