No, Court’s original theory still made the most sense to him. He was being silenced because he was part of the Autonomous Asset Program, an extrajudicial initiative that, for some reason he did not yet understand, could not come to light.

Court had learned one piece of actionable intelligence from Matt Hanley, though, and this was the focus of his attention now as he pulled off of Massachusetts and onto Rhode Island Avenue. Max Ohlhauser, a man he’d never even heard of, had apparently signed off on the termination order. Court knew his next step was to look into this guy to see where he was, and if there was some way he could get his hands on him.

The chief legal counsel for the CIA sounded to Court like someone high-profile enough to warrant at least perfunctory security, but it also sounded to Court like this would be a guy whose detail wouldn’t be expecting their protectee to face an attack here in the city.

If he was even still the chief counsel, and if he was even still here in the city.

With all the obfuscation at every turn, Court felt his frustration growing. He didn’t know what Ohlhauser would be able to tell him about the origins of Denny Carmichael’s shoot-on-sight sanction, but at this point, Court found himself looking forward to the opportunity to extract any information he could get.

Court squinted through the water on his windshield and noticed a familiar sign just up ahead. He had no real operational reason to stop in the Easy Market on Rhode Island this evening. In fact, just yesterday he’d told himself he would never return. The woman behind the counter was nice but nosy, and although nice was good, his current situation couldn’t allow him to hang around with inquisitive people.

But as he neared the market, he began to slow.

He told himself that he needed provisions, that there wasn’t enough in his room at the Mayberrys’ should the heat on him in the city get so intense he had to stay inside for more than a day or two.

But honestly he just felt like stopping in. He wasn’t ready to go back to his tiny room; he wanted to prolong his evening, even if for just a couple minutes more, and he couldn’t think of another place to go where he’d find a smiling face and sixty seconds of kindness without the risk of paying too high a price.

He justified his decision from a PERSEC standpoint. He had reconnoitered the Easy Market and he knew it was secure. Why go to some other shop or bar somewhere, and deal with new cameras and camera angles, new dark corners and blind spots, new personalities and unknown subjects?