Mayes didn’t hesitate. “Operational expediencies won’t trouble her. If you tell her this target needs to die, she’ll make it happen.”
The elevator arrived on the seventh floor. Mayes reached out and took Denny by the arm before he left the car. He spoke softly to him. “I was also thinking . . . if Gentry is here to target the Agency, and this manages to make some noise outside of the Agency, God forbid, we might want to frame this to the media as some kind of an external threat. If Suzanne is involved, beefing up the guns and gates of our facilities, it will only help us sell it as some lone-wolf terror attack on the Agency.”
Denny looked at his second-in-command. In a louder voice he said, “One, this is a terror attack on the Agency. Gentry didn’t come all this way to pick up an old paycheck. And two, keeping this shit in house is paramount. No one breathes a word. We’ll take care of it.” Carmichael took off, heading up a brightly lit hallway towards his office.
Mayes knew when to fight with his boss, and he knew when to let his boss wrestle with his own arguments. As he caught up with Carmichael he said, “So . . . Suzanne. Yea or nay?”
After a moment the director of National Clandestine Service gave in, to a point. “Maybe. But before I bring her into the program, I want to know more about her.”
“She’s reliable. I’ve worked with her myself. She’ll play ball.”
Denny slowed and turned back towards Mayes, but before he could say anything Mayes preempted him by handing over the plastic file folder. “Here’s her two-page write-up. You want more, I can send it to your office.”
Carmichael took the file, but said, “I want it all. Nobody gets read in on Violator unless I know them inside and out.”
—
Ten minutes later five men and one woman converged in a glass-walled conference room that could easily accommodate sixteen, took their seats quickly, and then all eyes turned to a pair of side-by-side monitors on the wall. A satellite linkup had been established with Tel Aviv and fed to one of the monitors, but until the commo people on the Israeli side of the connection gave the word that their attendee was on camera and ready, the screen just glowed blue. Next to this, a larger screen displayed an interactive map of the greater Washington, D.C., area.
The responsibilities of those in the room represented some of the most secret departments and divisions within the CIA. Communications was there, as were the CIA employees charged with working with the National Security Agency, the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, and the Joint Special Operations Command, the military’s most elite paramilitary fighting force. A CIA analyst sat across from a senior officer in the Department of Science and Technology. Jordan Mayes, assistant director of the National Clandestine Service, entered and sat to the left of the empty chair at the head of the table.
Most of these officers had been on the Violator Working Group for years. It had taken them, both physically and virtually, to locations all over the world. But this was most assuredly the first time any of them found need to refer to a map of the local area in relation to the Gentry hunt.
The one new face in the room was also the lone female. Suzanne Brewer was a thirty-nine-year-old Programs and Plans officer for the National Clandestine Service. She spent her days at CIA identifying and fortifying soft spots in Agency security protocols. She knew the name of every potential agent provocateur; she knew the details of threats against CIA personnel, every known operation targeting the Agency, every website that posted warnings to life and limb of intelligence officers all over the District. She wasn’t a spy herself, but she saw it as her mission to keep the spies of NCS safe from harm.
Denny Carmichael marched in at eleven forty-five p.m., his brow pinched with purpose. DeRenzi was with him, and as Denny moved to his chair, his close protection officer took a position against the wall, present for the meeting in an observer capacity only. It was his job to keep his protectee safe from harm, after all.
Denny dropped into his seat at the head of the conference table, facing the large monitors on the opposite wall. He turned first to Brewer. “Suzanne, you’re the odd man out here, if you will excuse the phrase. This is going to be a little out of your wheelhouse, but AD Mayes invited you in. Before I decide whether you are going to have code word access to the Working Group, I need to make a determination about your relevance to all this. What have you been told?”
“Only that there is a potential threat to local CIA personnel, and I would be briefed in the meeting and asked for my preliminary assessment.”
“I’ve read your file,” Carmichael said. “You’ve been solid in delicate situations. You’ve worked as a targeting officer as well as a counterterror officer, and you’ve excelled in both positions.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But you haven’t run up against a situation as difficult or as delicate as this.”