Dead Eye (Gray Man, #4)

by Mark Greaney

Babbitt stopped talking as the black-hot figure moved off the side of the small vehicle but did not fall; instead he hung there, below the cockpit, and then he lowered into thin air. Fourteen men and women gasped into their live mics. This was clearly not some other asshole. “Never mind,” Lee Babbitt said. “That’s Gentry.”

Babbitt sat next to him, his tuxedo straining against his corpulent frame. With absolute confidence he said, “He’s got a plan.” Court did not, in fact, have a plan.

Court appreciated the gesture, but he didn’t know this bastard. For all he knew the tea was pure poison. Gentry was not the trusting type.

for. Surely the hotel desk clerk would have given Gentry’s description to them, but Court was the Gray Man; the clerk would have forgotten more than she remembered. The police would also be looking for Dead Eye, Court knew, and that potentially could present a problem, as he and Court were both American and similar in appearance, and Court did not know the other man’s level of tradecraft. But, he decided, Dead Eye would not have been able to survive as a solo NOC for long if he walked the earth leaving a memorable impression.

Ruth knew Gentry had been in Stockholm that morning; she’d seen him herself. But letting Alvey know she’d purposefully short-circuited the Townsend attack in violation of her orders would get her pulled off the case and recalled to Tel Aviv.

lights of the terminal. “We’re going to fly out of here?” she asked as they ran. “Yep.” “You’re a pilot?” Court gave a little shrug before answering. “Sure.” “I read your file.” “Who the hell hasn’t?” She had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t ask. Instead she said, “Your file didn’t say you were a pilot.” “Maybe you got the abridged version.” She did not press further.