Back Blast

32

Zack Hightower entered the Violator Working Group’s tactical operations center promptly at eight a.m., clean-shaven for the first time in two years and professionally dressed in a blue suit with a regimental tie. He was feeling better than he had felt in a long time, because he was back on the job, part of the team, and operational. True, at this point he hadn’t worked out his official status or even whether he would be getting a paycheck for his services, but he didn’t care. Mayes and Carmichael knew what he did, and men like Mayes and Carmichael needed a man like Zack Hightower.

More work would follow; Zack was sure of it.

Hightower was not surprised to see Suzanne Brewer already hard at work in the TOC. She was that kind of executive. Hightower had seen the type a few times before, always from distance, because he was labor and they were management. Brewer would come early and stay late, and she’d make this operation her life for the duration of it, then she’d move on to something else. But wherever she’d go from here, she would always move up; she would always leverage her access and her associations to serve as rungs on a ladder.

She’d step on Zack’s head to help her climb if she needed to, of this he had no doubt.

Brewer wasn’t the type of person Zack looked up to, but he’d been around the Agency long enough to know a highflier with seventh-floor potential when he saw one.

That was who she was.

And, Zack being Zack, he couldn’t help but think about getting her glasses off and her smart business suit wadded up at the foot of his bed.

He pushed the imagery out of his mind and went back to business.

He imagined Brewer was the type who would keep her nose clean at all costs, and that meant, he knew without having to be told, that she would know nothing of his extracurricular activities the evening before. She was in Programs and Plans, but she wouldn’t dip her toe into non-sanctioned programs or plans such as an extrajudicial killing in the USA for all the money in the world.

“Morning, Ms. Brewer,” he said as she hurried over to him.

Brewer wasn’t a chatty person. She was all business. “Good. You’re here. I need to fill you in on what happened last night.”

“Please do.” Zack feigned surprise and interest, and the two of them stepped into a small glass-walled conference room.

As she sat down she said, “Around eleven p.m. yesterday Courtland Gentry murdered Leland Babbitt, director of Townsend Government Services.”

Zack just said, “I’ll be damned.” He smiled inwardly, thinking he deserved a fucking Oscar for his acting abilities. He wasn’t surprised in the least that Gentry was getting fingered for the hit. Denny Carmichael was a crafty old fox, after all.

She continued, “Shot him in the chest, then led Babbitt’s security detail on a chase across Chevy Chase and Bethesda.”

He blinked. “Oh.” Zack’s surprise was authentic now. Apparently they had hard evidence Gentry was there at the scene. But Zack still had to employ his acting talents, because it was becoming clear Gentry had been in range of Zack’s Remington, and Zack had failed to see him. “That is very interesting.” He said it as slowly and flatly as he could. “Any idea where he went?”

“He was tracked from Babbitt’s house, and was cornered for a short time, until he blew up a McDonald’s.”

“He did what?”

“Yeah. Tossed nearly a hundred rounds of ammo into a fry cooker.”

Zack burst into laughter. “Holy shit. Kill anybody?”

“No, luckily. Two Townsend men are going to have some pretty bad sunburns for a while. Another security officer was shot in the legs.”

“And then Violator just vanished?”

“For ninety minutes. He then turned up on the Capital Beltway, where he first caused a traffic accident and then carjacked a taxi. The cab was discovered just twenty minutes ago in Bethesda. No sign of Gentry, though there was blood at the scene of the carjacking, and significant blood in the vehicle.”

Zack said, “So he’s hurt, but apparently not so badly he can’t ninja his way across the greater metro area.”

“Exactly. Since about three a.m. we have been monitoring hospitals, all-night pharmacies, and minor emergency clinics, expecting him to show up for supplies. Nothing so far.”

Zack shook his head. “He won’t go to a hospital or a clinic. He’ll treat himself. If he didn’t already have wound management supplies, he’ll get them at a grocery store or a corner market or a vet clinic because he’ll expect you to monitor video feeds at pharmacies. There can’t be more than a dozen that are open all night around here.”

Brewer nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Any other suggestions?”

Just then, Jordan Mayes leaned into the TOC. “Sorry, Suzanne. I’ll need to borrow Zack for a few minutes. I’ll send him back down when I’m done.”

Zack followed Mayes up to seven, neither man speaking the entire way. The older man with the white hair looked exhausted, which Zack found hilarious, because he had been the one in the field the night before, not Jordan Mayes.

Zack was late forties, Mayes was just a few years older, but Mayes was a suit. Zack told himself he wouldn’t let himself go to pot like Mayes when he hit his fifties; hell, not even when he was eighty-five.

They entered a small private conference room, and Zack expected to see Carmichael waiting for him. But the room was empty. Mayes motioned for Zack to sit, and Mayes then took the chair next to him.

Hightower understood now. Denny was using Mayes as a cutout. Mayes would provide a barrier between the shooter and the man who gave the term order.

He’d expected instant and profuse gratitude from Mayes for killing Babbitt, but what he got was something quite different.

Mayes began, “You had eyes on the rear of Babbitt’s property. How is it you didn’t see Violator?”

Zack wasn’t ready to go on the defensive, so it took him a moment to answer. Finally he said, “I guess that’s why they call him the Gray Man. He probably got into position before I arrived. He had a secure hide site. I was focused on the target, and the target’s security.”

“And after? Babbitt’s men saw him. Why didn’t you?”

Hightower’s square jaw flexed. “After I smoked my target, I hit the bricks. Nobody said anything to me about Babbitt being a potential Gentry target.”

Mayes sighed. “Still, you knew Gentry was on the streets. A little vigilance on your part and you could have killed two birds with one stone last night. This op would be over.”

Hightower was no longer on the defensive — now he was pissed. No seventh-floor suit was going to tell him how to do wet work. “Look, if you’d integrated me into this op a little bit more, let me know about the connection between Gentry and Babbitt, whatever it was, I could have done your analysis for you.” Zack shrugged. “You just brought me into this to be a trigger puller, so I just pulled the fucking trigger.”

Mayes let it go. “Very well. Denny and I are satisfied with the Babbitt termination.”

Zack wanted to say, “I killed the motherfucker for you, why wouldn’t you be satisfied?” but instead he forced out a “Glad to hear it. Next time, send me after Gentry, and I’ll get Gentry. It’s as simple as that.”