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Authors: Rick Jones, Rick Chesler
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Casey nodded and forced himself to subdue that sly grin. He just happened to have--at his fingertips, he thought, already reaching for his smartphone--the perfect solution.
He had Tanner Wilson.
CHAPTER NINE
Bethesda, Maryland
An outcast.
Tanner Wilson held no illusions about what he was. Thirty-six years old, the former FBI man had served two years as a field operative and then twelve more as a Special Agent in Counter-terrorism (CT). His case exploits were the stuff of legend in the Bureau's hallowed halls. He had an uncanny knack for achieving results, albeit at the expense of rule breaking. Due to his stellar record of results, however, the top brass had tolerated it.
But last year, Tanner had become the target of a trumped-up internal investigation for alleged sexual harassment. When Internal Affairs Division pushed and pushed hard, Tanner shoved back, angering high-ranking administrators with the exception of Director John Casey, who favored overlooking his transgressions with an eye toward preserving Tanner’s incredible potential as a clandestine operator and prospective team leader. But when unfounded accusations and insinuations continued to surface regarding his alleged guilt, even Casey had been unable to smooth things over and Tanner eventually resigned. Not because he couldn't fight for himself. But because in the meantime, he could no longer be effective at his actual job. He only knew one way to get it done, and that was to do it right. With the constant distractions of his personal investigation, he forced himself to admit that he could no longer do it right, and therefore he shouldn't do it at all. He would break rules but he wouldn't cut corners.
At first, when Tanner found himself unemployed for the first time since the age of twenty-two after joining the FBI straight out of college, he had been angry and upset. What was he going to do now? What agency would accept him with this black mark on his record? He had served his country with unquestioning loyalty, and this is what he got in return?
But as the old expression has it, cream has a way of rising to the top. And the world didn't stop turning because one man had been expunged from the FBI. For those still with the agencies tasked with keeping America safe, their job just got a little bit harder. There was still a lot of terror out there being planned and executed. Tanner soon began to receive phone calls and e-mails--messages from former contacts, some of whom he had never even counted among his friends, surprisingly enough. But terror was a dirty game, and when you thought you knew someone who might be able to help you win it, you tried to get that person on your side, personal opinions be damned.
Slowly but inexorably, Tanner was either put in touch with or contacted directly by a breed of person more common than he would have guessed--people like him, who had been perfectly qualified former operatives for U.S. agencies, but who were swept away in a tidal wave of hyper-vigilant political correctness and a robotic adherence to a dense litany of ineffective rules, codes, and laws. Nobody cared what you could actually do, how much money had been spent on your training, or that there was a shortage of qualified agents--experienced operators who truly knew what they were doing. If you even allegedly did something that the masses would find "offensive" in the media, then you were out. End of story. Bad publicity outweighs our need for competent agents.
The first of these people to actually meet with Tanner post-FBI was Stephen Shah, a forty-three-year-old ex-Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) Special Agent. He was fired from The Company after bringing a discrimination lawsuit against the agency. He was a man of Middle-Eastern ethnicity who served for two decades with expertise in Arab language and Mid-East operations.
Second onboard was Danielle Sunderland, thirty-seven, an ex-National Security Agency (NSA) Analyst who was terminated without
He had Tanner Wilson.
CHAPTER NINE
Bethesda, Maryland
An outcast.
Tanner Wilson held no illusions about what he was. Thirty-six years old, the former FBI man had served two years as a field operative and then twelve more as a Special Agent in Counter-terrorism (CT). His case exploits were the stuff of legend in the Bureau's hallowed halls. He had an uncanny knack for achieving results, albeit at the expense of rule breaking. Due to his stellar record of results, however, the top brass had tolerated it.
But last year, Tanner had become the target of a trumped-up internal investigation for alleged sexual harassment. When Internal Affairs Division pushed and pushed hard, Tanner shoved back, angering high-ranking administrators with the exception of Director John Casey, who favored overlooking his transgressions with an eye toward preserving Tanner’s incredible potential as a clandestine operator and prospective team leader. But when unfounded accusations and insinuations continued to surface regarding his alleged guilt, even Casey had been unable to smooth things over and Tanner eventually resigned. Not because he couldn't fight for himself. But because in the meantime, he could no longer be effective at his actual job. He only knew one way to get it done, and that was to do it right. With the constant distractions of his personal investigation, he forced himself to admit that he could no longer do it right, and therefore he shouldn't do it at all. He would break rules but he wouldn't cut corners.
At first, when Tanner found himself unemployed for the first time since the age of twenty-two after joining the FBI straight out of college, he had been angry and upset. What was he going to do now? What agency would accept him with this black mark on his record? He had served his country with unquestioning loyalty, and this is what he got in return?
But as the old expression has it, cream has a way of rising to the top. And the world didn't stop turning because one man had been expunged from the FBI. For those still with the agencies tasked with keeping America safe, their job just got a little bit harder. There was still a lot of terror out there being planned and executed. Tanner soon began to receive phone calls and e-mails--messages from former contacts, some of whom he had never even counted among his friends, surprisingly enough. But terror was a dirty game, and when you thought you knew someone who might be able to help you win it, you tried to get that person on your side, personal opinions be damned.
Slowly but inexorably, Tanner was either put in touch with or contacted directly by a breed of person more common than he would have guessed--people like him, who had been perfectly qualified former operatives for U.S. agencies, but who were swept away in a tidal wave of hyper-vigilant political correctness and a robotic adherence to a dense litany of ineffective rules, codes, and laws. Nobody cared what you could actually do, how much money had been spent on your training, or that there was a shortage of qualified agents--experienced operators who truly knew what they were doing. If you even allegedly did something that the masses would find "offensive" in the media, then you were out. End of story. Bad publicity outweighs our need for competent agents.
The first of these people to actually meet with Tanner post-FBI was Stephen Shah, a forty-three-year-old ex-Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) Special Agent. He was fired from The Company after bringing a discrimination lawsuit against the agency. He was a man of Middle-Eastern ethnicity who served for two decades with expertise in Arab language and Mid-East operations.
Second onboard was Danielle Sunderland, thirty-seven, an ex-National Security Agency (NSA) Analyst who was terminated without
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