“You look like a young Burt Reynolds,” Hendley said.

“Who’s Burt Reynolds?” Jack asked.

“My wife’s childhood crush,” Hendley said. “Before your time. Say, have you met Paul Brown?”

Jack extended his hand, smiling. “Accounting, right?” He liked Paul’s unexpectedly firm grip.

“I’m surprised you remember me. We’re on opposite ends of the building and on different floors.”

“You do good work,” Jack said. But in truth, Jack hardly knew the man. He met him a couple times at Christmas parties, saw him in a few general staff meetings. But Paul Brown’s reputation was sterling.

“You do good work, too,” Paul said. “Or so I hear.”

For a moment Jack hesitated. Neither Paul nor Rhodes knew about The Campus, Hendley Associates’ “black side” operations. In order to fund those operations, Hendley and Jack Ryan, Sr., also formed the “white side” private-equity management enterprise known to the public as Hendley Associates. The firm had grown exponentially over the years, both in terms of personnel and AUM—assets under management. Jack actually began his work on the white side as a first-rate financial analyst before joining The Campus as a special operator—without his father’s knowledge or permission.

“We never worked together, did we?” Jack said.

“No, but you worked with Kevin Hedrick on a project I’m familiar with a few years back. He said you were the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“Kevin was the lead on that one. He just made me look good.”

“I know what it is,” Rhodes said, like a math student solving a problem. “You’ve put on some muscle since I last saw you. Hitting the gym pretty hard these days, eh?”

“You look pretty good yourself, Senator,” Jack said, trying to take the attention away from himself. In fact, he’d recently added another five pounds of muscle, thanks to a new training regimen, bringing the total to fifteen since he left college.

“Pilates and yoga, mostly,” Rhodes said. “And Whole Thirty.”

Jack and Rhodes shared a couple personal stories for the next few minutes, pulling Hendley into the friendly mix. Rhodes had been a frequent guest at the White House and even the President’s personal residence when he was a senator. Rhodes had worked tirelessly on behalf of President Ryan’s defense agenda in his first term, earning him both Hendley’s and Ryan’s gratitude and allegiance.

Paul Brown noted the easy familiarity between the three men. Old friends, it seemed to him. Two former senators and the son of a President. Paul felt like an intruder. He was just the son of a beat cop who was raised on his grandfather’s dairy farm. “Can I get you something to drink, Jack?” Hendley asked.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

They all took their seats and Rhodes filled Jack in on the part of his presentation he’d already given to Paul. He picked up where he’d left off.