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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

“I’m not here to kill you, Matt. I remember what you did in Mexico.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“But I’ll warn you right now . . . that fancy .45 that was in your bedside table is now on my hip.”

Hanley turned to look at the nightstand. He couldn’t imagine how Gentry had gotten all the way up to his bed, opened a drawer, and retrieved a weapon without making a sound.

He said, “Christ, Court. I wouldn’t have gone for my gun. I know you could kill me ten different ways before I got my hand on it.”

“Of course you know. But now I won’t have to.”

Hanley changed the subject. “Did you see the snipers?”

“Yes.”

Hanley said, “I don’t know where they are, just heard JSOC had me covered.”

Gentry replied, “One hundred forty yards east, rooftop of a four-story office building. Two guys. An AI .308 on the shooter, and an HK 416 with an ACOG on the spotter. And one hundred fifty-five yards northeast, two more, in a second-story apartment. Same sniper rifle, but the spotter has an M4 with an EOTech.”

Hanley turned his head slowly, trying to identify the location of the voice, because clearly Gentry had moved again. He gave up and said, “You managed to ID the caliber of the rifles and the brand of optics from one hundred fifty yards away?”

Court said, “I got a little closer.”

“You didn’t kill them, did you?”

Court pulled a chair into a corner, Hanley could hear the movement, and when he focused his eyes on the location, lightning struck outside, closer than ever. With the flash through the curtains Hanley could just make out the silhouette of a man. On the man’s right was the window that looked over the front yard. Even though it was covered with a curtain, Hanley saw Gentry had positioned himself so no one out there could get line of sight on him through the glass.

Court replied, “It’s me, Matt. When have I ever killed a Delta operator?”

“People change.”

“Other people change. Rules change. Loyalties change. I don’t.”

Hanley forced a smile. “You’ve been out of it for a while. They aren’t called Delta anymore.”

“No? What are they called now?”

“Can’t tell you. Classified.”

“That’s cute.” Lightning struck again and, along with it, a massive thunderclap. “So they’ve got you running SAD now.”

“Can you believe it?”

“When I shot you in Mexico I told you it would be a perfect opportunity for career enhancement.”

“Is this where I express my eternal gratitude for you filling me full of lead?”

Court did not respond.

Hanley said, “I am not going to have much information for you. I’ve got nothing to do with the Violator Working Group. Denny asked for Ground Branch guys to help target you, and I told him to fuck off.”