“It’s that asshole TL from the Goon Squad. Forgot his name. The guy who died a few years back.”

“Zack Hightower,” Hanley said. And then, “It’s fucking magic, huh?”

Jenner just shrugged. “It’s the fucking Agency, sir.”

Hanley chuckled, wiped his mouth, and took another sip of the Chianti. “Send him over. Maybe I can get the dead guy to drink with me.”

Hightower appeared at the table and stood across from Hanley. He seemed nervous. “Uh, sorry, boss. I just wanted to apologize in person.”

“Pop a squat,” Hanley said, and Hightower sat down at the table while Hanley signaled the waiter. “Bring my old friend here . . .” He looked at Zack now. “You didn’t quit drinking, did you?”

“Hell, no, sir. I was just fake dead, I wasn’t really dead.”

“Bring him a Stoli on the rocks.” And then, “A double.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve put on a few pounds since I saw you last.”

“And a few years.”

“Same here on both counts,” Hanley said. He still seemed more interested in his fillet than in his company. “So . . . what’s the deal? You are Denny’s personal direct action arm now?”

“No, sir. I was brought in to help them locate Violator.”

“And you missed him, but you sure found Lee Babbitt, didn’t you? One round center mass. Three hundred fifty meters.”

Hightower didn’t say anything. In the awkward silence his drink arrived. Hanley’s knife and fork scratched his plate.

Eventually the director of the Special Activities Division looked up. “How did I know you zapped Babbitt, you ask?” He took another bite. “I didn’t. It was a guess. You just confirmed it with your non-denial.” He followed this with a healthy gulp of Chianti.

Zack said, “I was told Babbitt was a clear threat to Agency operational security, and he was unwilling to—”

Hanley interrupted, “Babbitt was a piece of shit. Fuck him. You did good.” Then he pointed his steak knife across the table. “But Gentry . . . Why are you after Gentry? Back in the day that kid would have died for you, no questions asked.”

“I’m starting to ask myself the same question, sir. I had a little run-in with him last night.”

Hanley smiled while he cut another piece of meat off his fillet. “I’m still trying to get my blood pressure down to normal from his visit to my place. He get the drop on you?”

A pause. An embarrassed “Yes, sir.”

Hanley shrugged. Not surprised. He was halfway through his dinner now. “What did he tell you?”

“He doesn’t believe he did anything wrong on BACK BLAST.”

“That’s it?”

Hightower shook his head. He drank a third of his vodka in one gulp. “Sir, are you aware of any foreigners involved in the ideal hunt for Sierra Six?”

Hanley looked at Hightower with genuine surprise. “Foreigners?”

“Affirmative. Like, Gulf Arabs. Here in town. Part of the same operation.”