Carmichael and Aurbach had first met in a bomb shelter in Beirut in 1985, both intelligence officers representing their countries during Lebanon’s insane seventeen-faction civil war. Denny was new at CIA at the time, but he’d already spent over a decade in military intelligence, so he and the rugged Mossad officer worked well together in those instances when CIA and Mossad found themselves in close operational relationships.
Carmichael and Aurbach had kept the relationship up in the nineties, and then after 9/11 they worked even more closely together. Carmichael became station chief in Hong Kong, then was promoted to head the CIA’s Special Activities Division, a hard-charging unit of paramilitary officers that was called on constantly during the War on Terror. After several years running SAD, he was promoted again, this time to run the entire National Clandestine Service.
As high up on the American intelligence food chain as Carmichael was, Menachem Aurbach had reached even loftier realms in the Mossad, becoming the head of Israeli Intelligence several years earlier.
Denny hadn’t spoken to Aurbach in months, and that meant this would normally be the time for pleasantries about health and family, but Carmichael wasn’t in a pleasant mood. “What do you know, Manny?”
Aurbach spoke in a voice graveled by six decades of smoking. “I know that we owe you an apology. We had access to your man Gentry, but we let him slip between our fingers, and it appears he has escaped into your area of operations.”
Carmichael responded, “The imprecision in your words is a concern. First off, Gentry isn’t my man. He’s my target. And D.C. isn’t my AO. It’s my damn home. CIA doesn’t run ops here.”
Aurbach raised an eyebrow, an act that looked like it took a significant amount of his low energy. “I imagine that will change immediately, in light of what I am about to tell you.”
“Talk.”
“As you know, Mr. Gentry recently saved the life of our prime minister. An inconsequential thing to me, really, as I don’t have a high regard for politicians. But one of my top people was appreciative, and he single-handedly arranged for Mr. Gentry’s escape from Europe. We only found out about this today. It goes without saying that I have detained my officer for further questioning.”
“How did Gentry get out of Europe?”
“Via container ship leaving out of the Portuguese city of Aveiro. We tracked the boat, but by the time we began looking for it, it was already in your Chesapeake Bay. Of course we reached out to your office instantly, but we suspect Mr. Gentry would have had time to make his way off the ship and onto shore.”
Carmichael took his time controlling his fury, then he said, “I take it your man was unaware of Gentry’s importance?”
“He’d been told Mr. Gentry was wanted by the CIA. He’d been warned the man was both formidable and an enemy to both of our nations.”
“And that’s it?”
At the conference table, several people looked at one another in confusion. Jordan Mayes, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the back and forth between the two veteran spies.
Aurbach said, “He did not know specifics of Gentry’s crimes.”
Carmichael rubbed his eyes under his glasses and leaned back in his chair. “Well, Manny, you’ve handed me one hell of a shit sandwich, haven’t you? I’m not exactly sure how you can help me from over there, other than to shake down that traitor of yours to glean any scrap of intel you can get.”
If Aurbach did not like the characterization of his subordinate, he gave no hint of it on his face, but he replied, “My officer is no traitor to his country. He rewarded the man who prevented the decapitation of our government. Having said that, I will question him personally to find out everything he knows, after giving him some days in solitary detention to soften him up.”
“I hope you are thorough.”
Aurbach’s tired face tightened a bit. “Mossad doesn’t need any tips on interrogation from CIA. I’ll let you know what I find out.” Aurbach leaned a little closer to the camera. “In the meantime… I suggest you lock your doors tonight. I’ve read the after-action reports regarding the swath of destruction this former asset of yours burned through Europe last month. He is quite the talented killing machine. I would not want him mad at me.” Aurbach leaned back with a smile and reached for a button on the desk console in front of him. “My love to Eleanor.” He punched the button and the feed went dead.
Carmichael paid no attention to the others in the conference room. Instead he exhaled, looking off into space. “Fucking Manny.”
One of the analysts at the table interrupted his thought. “Director Carmichael, apologies for pointing this out if it’s sensitive, but it seems clear Aurbach knows more about why we are hunting this target than I do. What does Violator have to do with Israel?”
Carmichael answered in an offhanded manner. “Gentry was involved in an op while working in SAD. Israel came out on the short end of things. Manny knows about it. You do not.” He shrugged. “Not relevant to your operation.”
The analyst said, “It might help us understand why he went to such lengths to protect the Israeli prime minister. That doesn’t fit with what we know about the man.”
“George… no.” There was an annoyed finality in Carmichael’s voice. George just held a hand up in surrender.
Brewer took this all in. She was fascinated to see other Working Group members asking questions about Violator. They were tasked with catching him, but their need-to-know apparently didn’t include details of his former operations.
Carmichael turned to Brewer now, surprising her with the speed of the movement. “Okay, Suzanne. Time to earn yourself a seat at the table. You’ve heard what we’re up against. What do you suggest we do?”
Brewer looked around, and her voice became unsure. “I don’t see any outside entities represented here.”
“Outside entities?”
“Protocol for something like this… a local threat, I mean… is to bring in the FBI.”
Carmichael sighed. Disappointed in her comment. “No Bureau. This isn’t going to be a DOJ dog and pony show. We have one man in the area, we can handle this. What steps do you say we take first?”
She said, “Honestly, if this were Paris, Buenos Aires, even Toronto, we would have more options from an operational standpoint. But D.C. isn’t our turf. I can’t just send a security team in a helicopter over the Capitol and a surveillance team in a van down Pennsylvania Avenue.”
Carmichael shook his head. “There are counterintelligence protocols for resources at our disposal. On an ad hoc basis I can bring in various assets, I can order up contracted security with TS clearance. I can call in JSOC operators.”
Brewer was astonished. “JSOC operators? You are talking about Delta Force?”
Mayes corrected her. “They haven’t been called that for years, but yeah, special mission units. Those guys.”
“To run a direct-action mission in the United States?”
“Yes,” Carmichael replied flatly.
Brewer was realizing Carmichael had been right when he said she’d never worked on an operation of this magnitude. “You would need approval from the director, who himself would need approval from the president.”
“I have approval from the director, who has an existing understanding with POTUS involving Violator.” He smiled. “Welcome to the big leagues, Brewer. You want in this program, you’re going to have to get with the program.”
Suzanne Brewer composed herself for a moment, well aware that all eyes were on her. Then she reached out and touched the intercom button. Mayes and Carmichael exchanged a look, surprised that the subordinate was taking such liberties. She was the most junior officer in the room, but clearly she was no shrinking violet.