But dollar terms meant a lot.
They translated into jobs and homes and happy families. Or not.
Sawyer stopped walking. “You mind me asking how much Triton pays you a
year?”
Hardy turned around and smiled. “Why? You thinking of hanging out your
own shingle and trying to steal my clients?”
“Hey, just testing the waters in case I ever take you up on that offer
of a job.”
Hardy glanced sharply at Sawyer. “You serious?”
“At my age, you learn never to say never.”
Hardy’s face resumed its serious look while he pondered his ex-partner’s
words. “I’d rather not get into specifics, but Triton is well into the
seven figures as a client, not counting a substantial retainer they pay
us.”
Sawyer blew a silent whistle. “Christ, I hope you see a big slice of
that at the end of the day, Frank.”
Hardy nodded curtly. “I do. And you could too if you’d ever wise up
and join me.”
“Okay, I’ll bite: What are we talking salary-wise if I come on with you?
Just ballpark.”
“Five to six hundred thousand the first year.”
Sawyer’s mouth almost hit the floor. “You’ve got to be shitting me,
Frank.”
“I never joke about money, Lee. As long as crime is around, we’ll never
have a bad year.” The men resumed walking as Hardy added, “Think about
it anyway, will you?”
Sawyer rubbed his chin and thought about his mounting debt, never-ending
work hours and his tiny office at the Hoover Building.
“I will, Frank.” He decided to change the subject. “So is Gamble a
one-man show?”
“Not by a long shot. Oh, he’s the undisputed leader of Triton;
however, the real technology wizard is Quentin Rowe.”
“What’s he like? A geek?”
“Yes and no,” Hardy explained. “Quentin Rowe graduated at the top of
his class from Columbia University. He won a slew of awards in the
technology field while working at Bell Labs, and then at Intel.
He started his own computer company at age twenty-eight. That company
was the hottest stock on NASDAQ three years ago and was one of the most
sought-after acquisitions of the decade when Nathan Gamble bought it.
It’s been a brilliant fit. Quentin is the true visionary at the
company. He’s the one pushing for the CyberCom acquisition.
He and Gamble aren’t the best of friends, but they’ve done incredibly
well together and Gamble tends to listen to him if the dollars are
right. Anyway, you can’t argue with the success they’ve had.”
Sawyer nodded. “By the way, we got Sidney Archer under round-the-clock
surveillance.”
“I take it your interview with her aroused some suspicions.”
“You could say that. And something shook her up right when we got
there.”
“What was that?”
“A phone call.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know. We traced the call. It came from a phone booth in Los
Angeles. Whoever placed the call could be in Australia by now.”
“You think it was her husband?”
Sawyer shrugged. “Our source said the person lied about who he was to
Sidney Archer’s dad when he picked up the phone. And our source said
Sidney Archer looked like death warmed over after the call.”
Using a smart card, Hardy accessed a private elevator. While they were
carried up to the top floor, Hardy took a moment to adjust his
fashionable tie and flick at his hair in the reflection of the mirrored
elevator doors. His thousand-dollar suit hung well on his lean frame.
Gold-plated cuff links glinted at his wrists. Sawyer appraised his
former partner’s exterior and then looked at his own reflection. His
shirt, while freshly laundered, was frayed at the collar, the tie was a
relic from a decade ago. Topping it off, Sawyer’s perpetual cowlick
stuck up like a tiny periscope. Sawyer assumed a mock serious tone as
he looked over the very polished Hardy. “You know, Frank, it’s a good
thing you left the bureau.”
“What?” Hardy was rocked.
“You’re just too damn pretty to be an FBI agent anymore.”
Sawyer grinned.
Hardy laughed. “Speaking of pretty, I had lunch with Meggie the other
day. Great head on her shoulders too. Getting into law school at
Stanford isn’t easy. She’s going to have a great life.”