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Chapters (88)
  1. Titles by Mark Greaney
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. CONTENTS
  7. Epigraph
  8. CHARACTERS
  9. PROLOGUE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. 59
  69. 60
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. 63
  73. 64
  74. 65
  75. 66
  76. 67
  77. 68
  78. 69
  79. 70
  80. 71
  81. 72
  82. 73
  83. 74
  84. 75
  85. 76
  86. 77
  87. 78
  88. EPILOGUE

“Hell no! It makes me feel like a goat tied to a stick! I’ve got two of my guys riding with me and I’ve requisitioned an armored car. But it won’t be enough. If Gentry wants me, he’ll get me.”

“Then let me help you. I can give you a full motorcade, a dozen security officers.”

Hanley did not answer her directly. Instead he said, “Last night I walked out onto my back patio and talked to the trees. I figure that if Gentry is coming for me, he’s probably back there somewhere waiting for me to go to bed.”

“What are you telling the trees?”

Hanley laughed. “The truth. I’m telling them that all this shit is Denny’s doing. Not mine.”

“Aren’t you just giving him an easy shot?”

“Gentry doesn’t need an easy shot. Won’t make any difference to him if he has to skulk into my house. This way my poor Ecuadorian cleaning lady won’t have to wipe my brains off the wall, she can just hose it off the patio tile.”

Suzanne Brewer stood. “I certainly hope that doesn’t happen to you.”

He stood as well, and they shook hands. “Yeah. Me, too. Somebody has to be left standing when Denny goes down. I’m hoping it’s me.” He shrugged, lurching his big shoulders up and down. “I’m hoping it’s you, too.”

“Thank you for your time today, Matt.”

Brewer left the office, and Matt knew he had not managed to dent her thick armor at all.

35

Matthew Hanley sat in the backseat of an armored Toyota Camry, gazing through the tempered glass at the heavy evening traffic on Rock Creek Parkway. A flash of lightning illuminated the high hill to the right of his vehicle, thick with trees and shrubs. The director of the Special Activities Division took the quarter second of illumination as an opportunity to scan the high ground, searching for signs of a man there with an antitank weapon.

The darkness returned, and Matt closed his eyes.

Calm the fuck down. He’s not after you.

Two Ground Branch paramilitary operations officers sat in front of him in the armored car, but they knew better than to disturb the silence. Jenner drove and watched the other cars on the road while Travers rode shotgun and watched everyone and everything that was not riding inside another vehicle. They kept their HK MP7s stowed below the dash and at the ready, and both men carried radios that would connect them with CIA security forces positioned in D.C.

Hanley did not usually carry a weapon himself, but an MP5 with a collapsible stock sat inside a briefcase on the floorboard by his leg.