Dead Eye (A Gray Man Novel)
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The fourth Gray Man novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Mark Greaney.
Ex-CIA master assassin Court Gentry has always prided himself on his ability to disappear at will, to fly below the radar and exist in the shadows—to survive as the near-mythical Gray Man. But when he takes revenge upon a former employer who betrayed him, he exposes himself to something he’s never had to face before.
A killer who is just like him.
Code-named Dead Eye, Russell Whitlock is a graduate of the same ultra-secret Autonomous Asset Program that trained and once controlled Gentry. But now, Whitlock is a free agent who has been directed to terminate his fellow student of death. He knows how his target thinks, how he moves, and how he kills. And he knows the best way to do the job is to make Gentry run for his life—right up until the moment Dead Eye finally ends it…
through security cameras. Russ knew with certainty that Gentry would be heading out of the area some other way. The train station was close by, just to the south of the bus terminal; it was big and it possessed a cavernous underground area that made for good places to lie low and, more than for any other reason, it was where Russ himself would go if he were in Court’s shoes. He entered the main hall of the train station and then headed downstairs, his eyes open to any Mossad watchers that
from Townsend House at the moment.” “Well, that sucks for me, doesn’t it?” Court growled. “I gave up Kiev and now you are saying you can’t help me? You don’t know if they are tailing me now?” “Last I heard Jumper was looking for you at the bus terminal.” Court nodded, pleased that the ruse had drawn any surveillance from the train station, but also aware that this misdirection would have expired the moment the bus to Gothenburg left the station without Gentry on board. Whitlock
Seven.” “You’re damn right we have to talk. I’m sending you the bill for my boots. That redneck spit on them.” Babbitt took awhile to respond to this. When he did, he said, “Did you see a second target in Tallinn as was reported?” “Negative. There was a blizzard going on, so I didn’t see too much until Gentry shot me.” “There have been more doubts raised about the events of that night.” “Such as?” “You requisitioned a pistol from our weapons cache in Berlin, did you not?”
changed his bandages once again, and sat at the desk with the bottle of vodka in front of him as the hours ticked away. Whitlock looked down to his watch again. Midnight. Gentry should have called by now, but he had not. He realized Gentry would not be calling. Not today, anyway. Dead Eye gritted his teeth. He felt the anger boil in him, but he stopped himself from giving in to the rage. He knew the Gray Man would do things in his own way, on his own schedule. Russ smiled a
yards away from the target’s location on Radmansgatan, tucked into a covered bus stop in the dark and away from any line of sight on the windows of the building. Ruth had to get up and go relieve him for three hours, and then Laureen would come and relieve her. Ruth pushed her team hard, she knew it, but it was the only way to avoid a repeat of what had happened the previous spring in Rome. In Rome her intelligence had been perfect; she and her team had tracked a Hezbollah gunman to a