He’d only picked up the hunting guide gig in West Virginia when he ran out of money. He hated shepherding rich assholes through the woods just so they could shoot a fucking pig that wasn’t bothering anybody, but the money was good, and all the hiking, climbing, and shooting had molded Zack into reasonably good shape within a short period of time.
He’d fantasized about getting back on, if not with CIA, at least with some private military company, but Carmichael had stripped Zack’s Top Secret clearance, so Zack knew no real PMC would touch him. He had no interest in doing stateside static security work, so he just kept hauling rich civvies out on wild boar hunts, hoping something interesting would happen in his life.
And now he was face-to-face with the number two spy at the Agency, on the seventh floor of the Old HQB.
This was, at the very least, interesting.
Zack Hightower stood smartly, not quite at attention, but certainly displaying a show of respect.
Mayes nodded and sat down after a quick handshake. Under his arm he carried a thick file, and Zack suspected that his operational life, and perhaps his post-operational life, would be in that file.
“Thanks for coming in,” Mayes said.
“Happy to help in any way I can.”
“Denny wants a word.”
Zack swallowed. “Can I ask what this is about?”
“Better if Denny gives it to you cold.”
Carmichael pushed open the side door and all but stormed up to the table. If he had pulled an all-nighter with Mayes the evening before, then he was clearly a vampire, because Zack thought he looked good to go now at seven p.m.
Zack stood. This time it was at full military attention.
Carmichael’s greeting was, to say the least, several degrees cooler than that of Jordan Mayes. “I don’t do apologies, Hightower, so if you are waiting for one, prepare to be disappointed.”
Zack followed Carmichael by sitting back down, and pulling himself up to the table. “Not expecting one, sir.”
“You aren’t pissed about what happened to you two years ago?”
Zack shook his head. “I failed on a mission. That was unacceptable to you, but it was also unacceptable to me. I would have been disappointed if you’d not released me after that.”
Carmichael took in the comment. Then asked, “Fitness-wise, where are you?”
“One hundred percent.” Zack realized his tone had sounded hopeful, and he told himself to keep it flat till he knew what the hell was going on.
Carmichael looked to Mayes now. Mayes shrugged.
Hightower clarified. “Took a handgun round center-mass two years ago, but I’ve recovered. Been shooting every day. Long-range I’m better than ever. Running some, too. I’m not twenty anymore, but that’s an asset, not a liability. I’ll get any job done you need me to do.”
Carmichael looked doubtful.
“I can run a PT course right now.”
“I’m questioning your mental state.”
“My head is right, sir. I could put my hand in a candle and show you, if that’s what you are looking for.”
“That’s not what I want, either. I need to see that there are no hard feelings about what happened two years ago.”
“None at all, sir.”
Carmichael drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, then he seemed to let it go, and he went immediately to the subject at hand. “Courtland Gentry appeared in the D.C. area last night.”
Hightower had planned on keeping a cool stoic face, no matter what craziness Carmichael threw his way, but now he could not hide his surprise. “Oh, shit!”
“Killed two drug dealers in the slums, apparently to obtain money to finance his activities here.”
“Only two?” Zack quipped. The execs stared back at him, so he went on the defensive. “Look, if you think I knew about this, then you—”
Carmichael interrupted. “Any idea why he might have come here?”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“This isn’t the fucking navy, Hightower.”
Zack shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “He’s come here to kill you.”
It was silent in the dark conference room for a moment, and Hightower worried he might have overstepped his bounds. Then Mayes said, “That’s our assessment, as well.”
Hightower nodded slowly and a smile grew. Suddenly it felt like all his problems had just melted away. The past two years of his life, the depression born out of being ostracized by the Agency after failing a mission, disappeared. He had a job, a purpose. The old Zack was back.
With a wide grin he said, “I get it. I get why I’m here. You need me to stop him.”
Carmichael sniffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You didn’t stop him last time out, did you?”
The cocky smile remained. “Sir, that op you sent me on in Sudan was as wrong as dick cancer, and you know it.”
Denny Carmichael did not reply to this. After a moment he said, “We brought you in to see if you could help us determine where Gentry might be, what he might do. Tactics and the like.”
“Damn straight. Nobody knows him like I do.”
After a gentle rapping on the side door a woman in a conservative blue outfit entered. Zack’s first impression was that she was hot. Not stripper hot, he told himself, but hot in sort of a sexy librarian kind of way.
She walked up to Hightower, who fought the urge to look her up and down. Instead he stood up, and she extended her hand.
Jordan Mayes made the introductions. “Hightower, this is Suzanne Brewer. She is the officer in charge of the Violator tactical operations center. As long as Gentry is in this area of operations, she is tasked with finding him. We’d like you to spend some time telling her everything you know about the man — his tactics, techniques, and procedures. Together you can fine-tune the hunt so the shooters know where to go.”
Zack was disappointed. A minute earlier he would have been happy plunging the toilets here at CIA, but now he wanted in on the hunt itself. “Who are your shooters? Ground Branch?” he asked.
“Negative. We are using JSOC,” Carmichael said. “They are already out on the streets. Until we have a positive sighting of him, we won’t have anything more than what you and Suzanne can develop.”
“Why not Ground Branch?”
“We are keeping Matt Hanley out of this for now.”
Hightower nodded slowly. There was some sort of intra-office feud going on between Hanley and Carmichael; this Hightower could see on Carmichael’s face.
Hightower put aside his desire to run and gun, and he nodded to the hottie in the business suit. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Brewer.”
He’d do more than that if he got the chance.
“Suzanne is fine,” she said, and from her tone he instantly realized he would not get the chance. Despite the first-name, this one was all business. “The operations center is on the fourth floor. I have an office there where we can talk further. Violator has been in country about twenty hours, so we don’t have a moment to lose.”
“Then let’s get started.”
Mayes said, “That’s it, Hightower? You haven’t asked for anything. No money. No request for us to clarify your status. Why not?”
Hightower did not hesitate in his reply. “I understand what’s happening. This isn’t just about bringing me in to discuss Gentry’s habits. No, you need a guy like me on the street, in the hunt. You want me to remain off book. Better that way for you. If this breaks bad with a running shoot-out down the National Mall, you don’t want to be tied to it. You are bringing me on to help with TTPs, but if he’s located on U.S. soil, you’d rather some nobody like me went out and did the killing. Not a special mission unit tied to the military, or an operative tied to the intelligence community.