The Maverick Experiment Read Free Page B

I'm working in the Special Missions Division of the Counter Terrorist Center,” Derek said slowly, sorting out the alphabet soup in his mind, “but the chiefs don't know who I am or even that I exist … Which means that in Afghanistan, or anywhere, really, I have no protection whatsoever. My actions, which various chiefs may become aware of, will be unknown to them and, therefore, assumed hostile. So I can expect to be chased down by the agency and the military?” Derek gave a mirthless laugh and shook his head. “Sounds like a real picnic. Where do I sign?”
    Derek set down his cup of coffee and stood, turning and walking away from the table. Before he had taken three steps, he felt someone grabbing his arm.
    “Hang on a second, Derek,” Carlisle Davenport said. “Just listen, OK?”
    Derek paused.
    “We finally have a director who will push the envelope and, surprisingly, the president supports him,” Carlisle said. “DCI and the president are the only people outside of the three of us who know about this program. We can really get some things done here.”
    “Just you, Jerry, me, the director of the CIA, and the president?” Derek said.
    Carlisle nodded.
    “This really goes that high?”
    Carlisle nodded again. “Like I told you before—clearance at the highest level.”
    Derek took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And what, exactly, would I be doing along with all this exciting travel you're talking about?”
    “Well, like I said, you will be acting outside of the law in order to ensure we are getting valuable information from our targets—and then getting rid of them.”
    “How does that work? Who provides my targets, and how are we reporting the information we get? We can't do it through agency channels or we lose all deniability.”
    Jerry walked over to where Derek and Carlisle were standing. “The simple answer is, you don't,” he said. “This program can never be connected to the US government, and certainly not the agency. You have to almost think of this program as itsown agency or entity. You have someone funding it and supporting it, but in the field it will be your baby. Carlisle and I will essentially sniff out the hardest target sets the agency has and utilize our access to feed you critical data. The rest is up to you.”
    Before Derek could respond, Carlisle spoke up. “Derek, things are worsening fast in Kabul. Since you left, the Talibs have figured out what we long hoped they wouldn't: daily attacks. The security office has station on lockdown so frequently that even the officers who got some ops done before aren't able to contribute now. It's bad.”
    Derek knew Carlisle's assessment was correct. Major bombings and attacks made headlines, but knowing how the agency feared casualties, something as simple as tossing a hand grenade into a crowded bazaar was far more effective for disrupting counterterrorism efforts. If the Talibs made even the quietest boom every morning—even if no one was injured— station would go into lockdown and locals would remain in their homes out of fear. It was that simple.
    Derek chuckled. “So they finally figured it out, huh? OK, so basically, we are the only ones doing any operations in Kabul because station doesn't have the balls to let their people do their jobs. Hilarious.”
    “Who else would be in this little world-justice army you're building? Any other branches or directorates here?”
    “No. Just you and your unit,” Carlisle said. “We would just have one of the other special mission units from DoD do it, but we can't involve multiple agencies, or in our case, even multiple directorates.”
    “So, nobody from Clandestine Service, the Directorate of Intelligence, Support …”
    “Right,” Jerry said, “none of the other directorates. This has to be tight and really quiet.”
    “How many people?”
    “Pretty small, at least to start. There will be a team of five, including you,” Carlisle said.
    Derek had his hands in his