This was America, after all, and cash was king.
And with thirteen grand, Court Gentry could wage a motherfucking war.
7
By the time the meeting on the seventh floor of CIA’s Old Headquarters Building hit the forty-five-minute mark, Suzanne Brewer was reasonably certain everyone else had forgotten she was still here.
Denny had admitted her into the Violator Working Group, true, but since then she had sat to the side, seemingly excluded from the conversation. The cross talk now was between Jordan Mayes and Denny Carmichael as they discussed moving Joint Special Operations Command operatives into the city. Apparently a quasi-legal precedent had been established for doing so, which came as a surprise to Brewer. It seemed clear that even though Carmichael wasn’t concerned about doing things by the book himself, he knew “Jay-Sock” wouldn’t operate without all the forms filled out to the letter, so he was making sure the CIA’s JSOC liaison had all the details he needed to contact Fort Bragg and get the highly trained paramilitaries on the way to D.C.
Brewer found herself impressed with Denny. She’d never worked closely with him before, and knew him mostly as the old hard piece of shoe leather in a suit that she saw in the halls every now and then. She did know that Carmichael commanded a take-no-prisoners reputation in the Agency, and his colleagues knew to fall into step behind the man or to get the hell out of his way, because although he and the director weren’t close, Denny got things done and clearly the president liked having a stone-cold killing machine like Carmichael in his bag of tricks.
Now Carmichael, Mayes, and the communications officer at the table began discussing the logistics of initiating a full-time Violator Working Group tactical operations center, or TOC, on the fourth floor. Carmichael had already said he wanted more boots on the ground, so Mayes ordered thirty contracted assets with security clearance from a private security company. These assets, and the JSOC operators, would need a central ops center to coordinate their movements and responsibilities, and the TOC would serve that function.
Suzanne Brewer was surprised they wouldn’t use Special Activities Division assets for this, but Denny was adamant he didn’t want SAD men operating on the streets of D.C. It seemed like an odd quibble for a man who just ordered up U.S. military forces and private contractors to do the same thing, but Brewer figured there was a piece of the puzzle she didn’t understand, so she didn’t bring it up.
When there was a brief lull in the chatter, Brewer fought her way back into the conversation.
“I’d like to know something about Violator’s specific capabilities.”
With Carmichael’s approval, Mayes said, “Gentry has every tactic, every piece of tradecraft, every relevant training evolution you can think of. He can fly planes, scuba, rappel, fast rope, and free climb. He’s a master in the Israeli martial art of Krav Maga, and he’s the best close-quarters battle tactician to ever serve in SAD. He’s been to jump school, sniper school, advanced surveillance school, explosive breaching school, SERE school.”
Suzanne didn’t know that one. “SERE school?”
“Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape.”
“Okay.”
Mayes continued. “Ground Branch contains the finest one hundred fifty hard assets on planet earth. Gentry was as good as any one of them if not better, and that was before he went solo five years ago and really began to hone his craft.”
Brewer asked, “When you say hard asset, I assume Gentry was involved in lethal operations for the Agency.”
No one answered for a moment.
Brewer cleared her throat. “Look. You invited me in. If I can’t be told the full scope of the danger, then I won’t be much help to you.”
Carmichael nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Jordan Mayes said, “Gentry began his career as a singleton operator, he graduated to singleton assassin, and then in the Golf Sierra task force he was the point man for an assassination and rendition team.” Mayes cleared his throat. “Golf Sierra was absolute tip-of-the-spear stuff.”
Brewer took it all in. The gravity of what was being asked of her was growing by the second. “I spoke of the rumors I had heard. As a private hit man he supposedly has executed over thirty lethal operations.”
Mayes answered back. “Our confirmed number is much lower. Twelve.”