THE alarm clock buzzed at 10:00 A.M., but Jonathon Payne didn’t feel like waking up. He had spent the previous night hosting a charity event—one that lasted well past midnight—and now he was paying for his lack of sleep. Begrudgingly, after hitting the snooze button twice, he forced himself out of bed.
“God, I hate mornings,” he moaned.
After getting undressed, the brown-haired bachelor twisted the brass fixtures in his shower room and eased his chiseled, 6’4”, 230-pound frame under the surging liquid. When he was done, he hustled through the rest of his morning routine, threw on a pair of jeans and a golf shirt, and headed to his kitchen for a light breakfast.
He lived in a mansion that he’d inherited from his grandfather, the man who raised Payne after the death of his parents. Even though the house was built in 1977, it still had the feel of a brand-new home due to Payne’s passion for neatness and organization, traits he had developed in the military.
Payne entered the U.S. Naval Academy as a member of the basketball and football teams, but it was his expertise in hand-to-hand combat, not man-to-man defense, that eventually got him recognized. Two years after graduation, he was selected to join the MANIACs, a highly classified special operations unit composed of the best soldiers the Marines, Army, Navy, Intelligence, Air Force, and Coast Guard could find. Established at the request of the Pentagon, the MANIACs’ goal was to complete missions that the U.S. government couldn’t afford to publicize: political assassinations, antiterrorist acts, etc. The squad was the best of the best, and their motto was fitting. If the military can’t do the job, send in the MANIACs.
Of course, all of that was a part of Payne’s past.
He was a working man now. Or at least he tried to be.
THE Payne Industries complex sat atop Mount Washington, offering a breathtaking view of the Pittsburgh skyline and enough office space for 550 employees. One of the execu tives—a vice president in the legal department—was exiting the glass elevator as Payne was stepping in.
“Morning,” Payne said.
“Barely,” the man replied, as he headed off for a lunch meeting.
Payne smiled at the wisecrack, then made a mental note to dock the bastard’s wages. Well, not really. But as CEO of his family’s company, Payne didn’t have much else to do, other than showing up for an occasional board meeting and using his family name to raise money for charities. Everything else, he left to his underlings.
Most people in his position would try to do more than they could handle, but Payne understood his limitations. He realized he wasn’t blessed with his grandfather’s business acumen or his passion for the corporate world. And even though his grandfather’s dying wish was for Payne to run the company, he didn’t want to screw it up. So while people with MBAs made the critical decisions, Payne stayed in the background, trying to help the community.
The moment Payne walked into his penthouse office, his elderly secretary greeted him. “How did last night’s event go?”
“Too late for my taste. Those Make-A-Wish kids sure know how to party.”
She smiled at his joke and handed him a stack of messages. “Ariane just called. She wants to discuss your plans for the long weekend.”
“What? She must be mistaken. I’d never take a long weekend. Work is way too important!”
The secretary rolled her eyes. Payne had once taken a vacation for Yom Kippur, and he wasn’t even Jewish. “D.J. called, too. In fact, he’d like you to stop down as soon as you can.”
“Is it about a case?” he asked excitedly.
“I have no idea, but he stressed it was very important.”
“Great! Give him a call and tell him I’m on my way.”
With a burst of adrenaline, Payne bypassed the elevator and headed directly to the stairs, which was the quickest way to Jones’s office during business hours. When he reached his best friend’s floor, he stopped to admire the gold lettering on the smoked glass door.
DAVID JOSEPH JONES Private Investigator
He liked the sound of that, especially since he’d helped Jones achieve it.
When Payne inherited the large office complex from his grandfather, he gave Jones, a former lieutenant of his, a chance to live out his dream. Payne arranged the necessary financing and credit, gave him an entire floor of prime Pittsburgh real estate, and provided him with a well-paid office staff. All Payne wanted in return was to be a part of