“He was born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. He’s in his thirties. White, male. A hair under six feet tall.”

The Jacksonville reference seemed oddly placed to Catherine, coming even before his physical description and without any other references to his past. She stored this peculiarly positioned fact for later and said, “He’s obviously had some training. I mean, some kook who thinks he is CIA but really lives in his mother’s basement isn’t going to pick fights with a bunch of drug dealers, police, and security contractors and live to tell about it.”

Carmichael nodded again, even more gravely than before. “We think he’s had training overseas.”

“Where?”

“Again, unknown. A camp in Yemen, most likely.”

Catherine was confused, and she didn’t hide it. “Wait. He’s a jihadist?”

“No, no.” Denny put a hand up. “We don’t think so. We just think he was deemed a useful tool for some group who had CIA in its crosshairs, so they recruited him for training. Probably off the Internet, as that’s the way these things happen nowadays.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“We think he spent time in Miami, Florida. Again, I can’t tell you how we know.”

Catherine did not pursue this; she wanted to keep Carmichael talking, not obfuscating. “So he killed Ohlhauser, Babbitt, the two dealers on Brandywine Street, and the three police today. Do you suspect him of anything else, so far?”

Carmichael hesitated a long time. Catherine was trying to draw him out, to see if he would mention the shooting the previous evening at the Easy Market. That shooting didn’t fit the MO of the other events at all, and it didn’t fit the profile of a paranoid psychotic terrorist, either. She told herself that if Carmichael did not mention it, it probably meant Carmichael was trying to control her story to portray the gunman in a way that benefited his narrative.

Denny Carmichael finally replied, “Nothing else. Not that we know of, anyway. Certainly nothing conclusive.”

Catherine stored this information, as well. She then asked, “Is there anyone else at CIA specifically he might target next that you know of?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

Catherine’s eyebrows rose. “Do you know why he might target you?”

“No, but he’s made threats.”

“How does he know who you are?”

“Are you familiar with USCrypto.org?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have your answer. It’s a free country. Freedom to jeopardize my safety and the safety of my family rubs me the wrong way, but I serve America, so there are dangers I must endure.”

Catherine got the impression that the big, tough, and dangerous Denny Carmichael was now looking for some sympathy, at least in this article she was working on.

More manipulation.