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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

Carmichael snatched it and held it to his ear while he walked. “Who is this?”

“It’s Mayes.” Jordan Mayes was Carmichael’s number two at NCS. He was a dozen years younger than his boss, but Carmichael could barely recall a time when Mayes was not by his side.

“Talk.”

“He’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

A brief delay from Mayes. Then one word. “Gentry.”

Carmichael stopped in his tracks. After a few seconds he spoke again, but his voice cracked. “He— Here? Here where?”

“Worst-case scenario? He’s got eyes on you right now.”

Carmichael looked around the lawn. In an instant his emotions cycled from fury through confusion, and then straight on to terror, and his voice went hoarse. “He’s in the goddamned States?”

“Best intel puts him in your state, Denny.”

Carmichael spoke quickly now; there would be no more pregnant pauses. “Get me the fuck out of here.” He began walking briskly, still cordoned off from the rest by DeRenzi and his men.

“Helo inbound. ETA five mikes.”

As he hurried along, Denny scanned his property. The tree line of pines in the distance, half-covered by thick mist, suddenly appeared foreboding.

Carmichael barked into the phone, “Five mikes, my ass. Expedite it!”

1

The band started back up tentatively, but the revelers’ attention was firmly fixed on the dozen serious men in the driveway surrounding the host.

Carmichael’s eyes searched from left to right, locking on human forms, because everyone at the party was a threat now. A congressman from Nevada, a prosecutor from Virginia, a horse breeder from Kentucky, the co-owner of a fashion magazine on Fifth Avenue. Caterers, musicians, and an event organizer standing by the pool with his hands on his hips, gaping at the armed Neanderthals destroying the mood of this glorious spring garden social. Carmichael double-checked everyone’s faces as he neared the back door, and the men and women he did not recognize—there were just a few—he triple-checked. He knew Gentry’s appearance—he’d been thinking about it for years—but he also knew the man could disguise himself better than anyone he’d ever known.

When he was inside and completely surrounded by his detail, he stood there a moment breathing heavily. He remembered he was still holding the phone to his ear. He said, “We’re sure?”

Mayes replied in a clipped, efficient tone. “Israelis tracked him to a freighter that embarked from Lisbon eight days ago. It’s now anchored in the Chesapeake Bay, just west of Easton. He might be heading west into D.C., but if he goes east, that’s less than fifteen minutes from you by car. We’ve sent a Marine FAST team to hit the boat, but—”

“Gentry won’t be on it.”