“Tell me.”
Travers shrugged, and this gesture looked utterly real. “I don’t know the specifics. Just that you were sent out on an op, you were given good intel and clear orders, and then went off script.” Travers winced, like he didn’t want to say it. “You killed the wrong dude, bro.”
“What do you mean?”
“How else can I say it? You smoked the wrong guy. You capped a noncombatant. You fragged a friendly. You termed some innocent son of a bitch and fucked up the mission.”
Court shook his head slowly. “No. That’s not true. That must be disinformation Carmichael is using to get everyone on board with the term order. All my ops were solid. I never had an unauthorized termination.”
Travers kept his eyes on the gun. “Court, I didn’t get it from Carmichael. You think door-kickers like me hang out with Denny Carmichael?”
“Who told you?”
“Me and a lot of the guys asked for a full brief on the reasons behind the term order. We didn’t like hunting one of our brothers, know what I mean?”
Yeah, Court thought. I know exactly what you mean. You mean you want me to lower this pistol because I’m supposed to act like we’re just members of the same big happy family.
“We were briefed by Jordan Mayes and some big-shot lawyer from the Office of General Council. Chunky dude, German name, don’t remember it. He wore this goofy bow tie, I do remember that. Anyway, he said you were derelict on a mission, but no one knew at the time. Years later intel filtered from some foreign service to Carmichael proving you zapped the wrong motherfucker. Bow tie dude told us Carmichael wanted you brought in for questioning. Your own task force was sent in to pick you up . . . and then you smoked them all.” Travers hesitated before saying the last part, as if he only just understood the repercussions of having a killer of CIA officers sitting in his apartment with a gun pointed at his chest.
Court said nothing.
“You going to tell me that didn’t happen, either?”
Court kept the gun up, but his body sagged a little. “They weren’t bringing me in. They were sent to terminate me.”
“Term you? Why would you be killed for schwacking an innocent person on a mission? Shit happens. You might have been cashiered from the Agency if the dereliction was bad enough, but they wouldn’t kill you. Not for that.”
Travers went on. “But once you killed your own guys . . . then it was on, bro. Denny has been after you ever since. You’ve done a hell of a good job hiding out, but if you kill me now, well, they’ll just know you are here in town.”
Court cocked his head in surprise. “Pretty sure they already know I’m here.”
Travers rolled his head back as if he was looking to the heavens. “Well, I sure wish someone would have bothered to give me the heads-up.”
“Look, you aren’t going to believe me over this suit from General Council . . . but I was not derelict. I never fragged the wrong target. Not once. Not ever.” He added, “And my team tried to murder me, not bring me in. I had to defend myself.”
Travers nodded like he believed, but Court didn’t think for a minute that he’d convinced him.
Travers said, “Okay. I guess they got it wrong. I’ll let everybody know. That should fix things.” It was sarcasm, brave considering Travers’s situation, but it was clear to Court the other man wanted to show he was not afraid.
Court thought a moment. “AAP. Does that mean anything to you?”
Travers was taken aback by the question. “You mean that magazine for old people?”
“No, Chris. That’s AARP. I am talking about the Autonomous Asset Program. Did this guy from General Council say anything about that?”
Travers shook his head. “I don’t know what that is. He didn’t mention it. Sounds stupid.”
Court sagged low on the couch, frustrated and confused. But then he nodded to himself. Softly he said, “Carmichael needed an excuse to kill me, so he came up with a cover story. He had to erase the AAP. Terminate all the participants . . . But they couldn’t breathe a word about it to anyone. They blamed me for some imaginary screwup.”
“Whatever you say, dude,” Travers said. He hadn’t heard everything, because Court had been speaking to himself.
Court ignored him and stood up slowly.
“What are you going to do?” Travers asked, letting a little nervousness show in his voice now.
“I’m leaving. You are useless. You know even less about what went down than I do.” Then he said, “Stand up.”
Travers did so. Court reached into his coat and pulled out zip ties. The other man’s eyes widened just a little, but he made no comment.
Court said, “Your lucky day, right? You know how to get out of these in five seconds. Put them on. Behind your back.”