“Did Olivia Anthony fail to acknowledge the fact that Pace and I were involved with bringing down three of the assassins, when the rest of the intelligence community hasn’t managed to accomplish a thing?”
Watkins turned back to Hanley. “Actually, she did acknowledge it. When she found out I was running an off-books op with the former DDO, she said, and I quote, ‘I appreciate your initiative in all this, but I’ll take over from here.’ ”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Look. Anthony is okay. She’s not the problem. But the president is very focused on bringing Gauntlet Group deeper into the community, especially after what they pulled off in Brooklyn, and Olivia Anthony is going to execute the president’s wishes.”
Hanley said, “Gauntlet Group, Trey, has been involved in this from the very start. Pace told you that, I’m sure. You don’t think these guys just stumbled onto a Russian cell and saved America, do you?”
Watkins looked uncomfortable. “It’s a bullshit story, but that’s thestory.” He shrugged. “Gauntlet is a big company. Apparently some rogue operators might have been tricked into working with Russian intelligence assets here in America and—”
“Jesus Christ!” Hanley shouted it now. “You’re talking like one of them! I mean, up until two months ago, I thought youwereone of them, but I was starting to believe in you, Trey.”
Watkins rolled his eyes. “Come on, Matt. I have a job to do. You do, as well. You are still my sub rosa outfit. We will just find some other tasks for you.” He smiled a little. “This is all over. You should be proud. We aren’t going to get the credit, but we won.”
Hanley sighed. “We won? This is over? Bullshit! You don’t believe the words coming out of your own mouth. But you sure as shit sound great when you say them, I’ll give you that.”
Watkins pounded on the glass behind him that separated the driver from the backseat. While looking at Hanley, he called out to the driver. “Back to Reagan! Matt has a plane to catch.”
—
Campbell Coyle went to a chip shop at eleven a.m., ate his fish at a picnic table outside in the cold blowing in from the coast, and then he returned to St. James Church.
It was quiet here in southwest Ballycastle; the hustle and bustle was along the coastline a few miles to the north. A vehicle passed by on the road every few minutes, just as it had when he was here earlier in the morning. He walked the grounds, strolled around the nearly empty car park, even looked inside the church, but he did nothing to arouse any suspicion to himself.
He appeared to be just a middle-aged man with nothing to do. No place to be.
Just before noon, he returned to the spot among the tombstones where he’d stood earlier in the day, his face cold from the whipping sea wind, and he watched a car in the far distance on Novally Road roll slowly to a stop.
A lone man climbed out, and he began walking this way.
His hands were empty, but his gait was pure menace.
The man’s coat was open in the frigid wind; his eyes were fixed ahead. Coyle knew how to check for every single tell that said someone meant trouble, and this man was doing nothing to hide the fact he imparted the gravest of danger.
Court Gentry left the road, passed through a little gate in a low stone wall, and then entered the cemetery.
The Northern Irishman held his ground until the man who had killed his son stopped, fifteen feet away, and stared him down.
—
Courtland Gentry faced off in front of the man who had killed his father.
He said, “You’ve had time to prepare the battlespace here. You have all the advantages, Coyle. Still…I came. That tell you anything?”
“It tells me yer feckin’ mad. You had no right to go to the house of me grandson. I took that as a threat.”
“It was anything but a threat. I spoke with Deirdre. She might not have liked it, but I could see in her that she knew that I didn’t mean her or the boy any harm.”
“Still. You shouldn’t have done it.”
“It put me right here, right now.”
“Like I said…you shouldn’t have done it.”
Court said nothing. His hand was close to the Glock pistol on his hip. Even with the thick coat over it, he knew he could have it out and up in under five-tenths of a second.
His muscles were taut, his body ready for action.
