BooksBarbecue
Back Back Blast Save as PDF
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

He turned to the youngest, most junior-looking person in the room, a scrawny kid with Coke-bottle glasses who sat at the far end of the table by the wall monitors, a laptop computer and a few peripherals on the table in front of him. The man was terrified, clearly, and to Court he looked like he couldn’t have been twenty-five years old. Pointing the HK rifle at him, Court said, “Who are you?”

A meek cough. “William, sir.”

“And what’s your function here, William?”

“I’m in charge of the video-conferencing suite. That’s all I know, sir.”

“Who are you conferencing with?”

The young man glanced over to Carmichael. Court said, “Denny can fire you tomorrow. I can shoot you now. Pay attention to me.”

“I am connecting the Violator Working Group here with the Violator tactical operations center at Langley.”

Court nodded. “The Violator Working Group?” He looked around at the men and women at the table. “All these years I pictured the faces of the people who were after me. Not the shooters on the ground, but the suits pulling the strings. And here you are.”

After a slow pan of the room, he looked back to the young man. “William, are we connected with the TOC right now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“These assholes at the table needed the TOC to locate me, but I’m here, so they don’t really need it anymore. I want you to pull the plug on everything. Shut it all down for me.”

William slowly moved his hands up to the laptop and began shutting down the connection.

Court turned back to the group. “Toss your phones in the middle of the table.” Everyone did so. “Guns, knives, Tasers, pepper spray?” No one moved. “Anything?”

Nothing but shakes of the head.

“None of you have any way of protecting yourselves from me? I was just some name on a sanction list, some vague personality that needed to die. I wasn’t a real person, so you didn’t see me as a threat to you. Now here I am, and you don’t have a clue what to do about it.”

Denny Carmichael said, “Court, this is—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Court screamed, his outburst of rage in stark contrast to the calm demeanor he’d used to address William seconds before. He raised his PDW and stormed around the table, aiming the weapon’s laser pointer on Denny’s forehead the entire time.

More women sobbed now, and some of the men trembled with terror.

—