that he wore slicked back. He had a brownish-blond beard that was trimmed into a short point below his chin, and dramatically cut sideburns. His grizzled skin around his facial hair showed the effects of a half century of sun and more stress than ten average men. He wore a denim shirt, thick canvas work pants, and well-worn roper boots.
He looked more Texas than D.C., which made sense, because he was born and raised near Dallas.
Zack Hightower had begun his career with the U.S. government in the Navy, as a SEAL, and then he was recruited into the CIA’s Special Activities Division. There he spent years as a team leader of a group of paramilitary operations officers tasked with running renditions, hits, black bag jobs, and other tasks around the world in furtherance of American interests.
He was the team leader of Task Force Golf Sierra, the SAD–Ground Branch unit known infamously in the shadowy deep corners at Langley as “the Goon Squad.” One of his subordinates had been a young Courtland Gentry, and that had led to Zack’s downfall several years earlier.
Hightower had fallen out of favor with the leadership in the National Clandestine Service and spent a couple years bumming around Virginia and West Virginia as a hunting guide before being scooped back up, dusted off, and put back into service as a contract agent working for the Agency.
No, not working for the Agency. Hightower worked for Matthew Hanley specifically. Hanley, through Brewer, directed Zack through Poison Apple, just like Court Gentry, though neither Violator nor Romantic had ever heard the name of the code-worded program they were a part of.
Gentry and Hightower were used as cleanup men to deal with special problems that the CIA couldn’t run the risk of being tied to. Zakharova was being groomed for the same program, although her status as an asset at present remained in serious doubt.
Hightower sat down in the front passenger seat of the Infiniti. “Howdy, Suzanne. Aren’t you looking particularly lovely today?”
Brewer responded to this with “You’re late.”
“And as delightful as ever, too.” He looked at his Luminox watch. “I’m in training. Ninety minutes ago I was rappelling down a twelve-story building in Chantilly when my phone rang. Left the rigging right there and raced over, hoping you’d have something real to do.” He grinned. “Cut me a little slack, it’s eight after.”
“So you’re ready for work, Romantic?”
The man grimaced. “I fucking hate that code name, you do know that, don’t you?”
“I believe you mentioned it. Every time I’ve spoken to you since it was assigned, as a matter of fact.”
“Court gets Violator, I get . . . I get . . . Shit, I can’t even say it.”
“Luck of the draw. Grow up.”
“What about ‘Night Train’? That would be an awesome code name. You’ve got the juice to make that happen, don’t you?”
She ignored him and repeated herself. “Ready for work, Romantic?”
Zack sighed. “Yeah. Always. Where am I off to this time?”
“Tysons Corner.”
Zack cocked his head. “Uh . . . We’re in Tysons Corner, Suzanne.”
In a deadpan voice she said, “Well, would you look at that? You’re doing great so far.”
Zack smiled. Suzanne didn’t have a sense of humor unless she was trying to be insulting. He could tell she was annoyed, perhaps not at him, he hadn’t done anything, but she was annoyed nonetheless.
Brewer said, “There’s a compromise at the Agency, which certainly seems to be stemming from someone at Langley. It’s been narrowed down to four individuals who had relevant knowledge of all the ops that were betrayed. Only four. Matt wants you to put some pressure on these individuals to try to provoke a reaction.” Brewer shrugged. “If they react, if they run, then we have our culprit.”
Hightower raised an eyebrow. “What kind of pressure are we talking about?”
“Psychological.” She turned and pointed a finger at him. “Psychological only. Let them know they are under suspicion. Intimate, by your actions, that you are not constrained by the justice system or CIA counterintel protocol. But do not initiate bodily harm.”
“Scare the fuck out of them, is that it?”
Brewer nodded. “That is it, exactly.”
“No sweat.”
She handed him a packet of papers; he looked inside quickly but didn’t take them out.
“Who do I start with?”
Brewer did not hesitate. “Hanley thinks it’s Renfro, but go after all of them equally. I don’t care where you begin.”
Zack gave a quick nod. “Renfro. Never liked that prick.”