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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

A few seconds later Kaz heard a scuffing sound, possibly of the phone being picked up from the floor. Then a soft voice spoke into the device. It was almost nonchalant, but utterly convincing. “I’m coming for you now. I don’t know who you have protecting you, but you’d better hope they are a lot better than these guys here.” A pause. Then, “These guys were shit.”

Kaz said nothing, but he did not hang up.

The man on the other end said, “I know. I know everything. Trieste. Denny. Israel . . . You.”

Murquin al-Kazaz panicked. He hung up the phone and snapped his fingers, summoning his principal protection agent. With only the quickest and barest of explanations to the men at the table, the Saudi intelligence chief raced for the front door of the restaurant, his detail scrambling to form a diamond pattern around him.

The three Chinese businessmen sat at the table staring at one another, wondering who the fuck was going to pick up the check.

—

Court did not, in fact, know everything. He assumed the operative would have been speaking with his control officer, and his control officer would know what this was all about. For this man to so brazenly run operatives to do the bidding of the CIA told Court this man was deeply invested in the outcome.

The fact that Court had no idea who this man was, or why he was so involved, made his threats difficult to construct, but he’d done his best to act like he knew what the hell was going on.

He could only hope this would encourage the man and his cohorts to scatter like roaches in the light.

At which point, if it all went to plan, Court would stomp on them all.

—

Denny Carmichael had an eight p.m. meeting with the Violator Working Group here at the Alexandria safe house but for now he just listened in to Dakota’s JSOC team as it converged on the Ritz-Carlton Pentagon City. The TOC had lost camera coverage of Gentry after he left the lobby, but by checking the elevator he entered they knew he went to the fifth floor, and by pulling information from the hotel’s server they saw the only door to have a card key placed in it at the right time was 545.

Now JSOC moved through the lobby, Denny watched them on the feed, and they disappeared into the elevators and stairwell.

It was his fervent hope these men did not find their target. Or at least didn’t find him alive. Denny had sent Kaz’s men as soon as he’d received the report of Gentry in the mall, and since this location was only three or four minutes’ driving time from the Saudi safe house, he knew his foreign assets would arrive well before the army boys of JSOC.

—