Zack Hightower entered the Violator Working Group’s tactical operations center promptly at eight a.m., clean-shaven for the first time in two years and professionally dressed in a blue suit with a regimental tie. He was feeling better than he had felt in a long time, because he was back on the job, part of the team, and operational. True, at this point he hadn’t worked out his official status or even whether he would be getting a paycheck for his services, but he didn’t care. Mayes and Carmichael knew what he did, and men like Mayes and Carmichael needed a man like Zack Hightower.

More work would follow; Zack was sure of it.

Hightower was not surprised to see Suzanne Brewer already hard at work in the TOC. She was that kind of executive. Hightower had seen the type a few times before, always from distance, because he was labor and they were management. Brewer would come early and stay late, and she’d make this operation her life for the duration of it, then she’d move on to something else. But wherever she’d go from here, she would always move up; she would always leverage her access and her associations to serve as rungs on a ladder.

She’d step on Zack’s head to help her climb if she needed to, of this he had no doubt.

Brewer wasn’t the type of person Zack looked up to, but he’d been around the Agency long enough to know a highflier with seventh-floor potential when he saw one.

That was who she was.

And, Zack being Zack, he couldn’t help but think about getting her glasses off and her smart business suit wadded up at the foot of his bed.

He pushed the imagery out of his mind and went back to business.

He imagined Brewer was the type who would keep her nose clean at all costs, and that meant, he knew without having to be told, that she would know nothing of his extracurricular activities the evening before. She was in Programs and Plans, but she wouldn’t dip her toe into non-sanctioned programs or plans such as an extrajudicial killing in the USA for all the money in the world.

“Morning, Ms. Brewer,” he said as she hurried over to him.

Brewer wasn’t a chatty person. She was all business. “Good. You’re here. I need to fill you in on what happened last night.”

“Please do.” Zack feigned surprise and interest, and the two of them stepped into a small glass-walled conference room.

As she sat down she said, “Around eleven p.m. yesterday Courtland Gentry murdered Leland Babbitt, director of Townsend Government Services.”