Free The Gray Man by Mark Greaney

to be cleared up quickly, for the good of the company.”
    “Then let’s not waste another moment. What else can I provide other than the team I have sent?”
    Lloyd paused. Then he said, “Well, I hate to shock you with this, but I urgently need a man killed.”
    Riegel said nothing.
    “Are you there?”
    “I am waiting for you to say something shocking.”
    “I take it you have done this sort of thing before?”
    “Here in Risk Management Operations we like to say that every problem can be dealt with one of two ways. A problem can be tolerated, or a problem can be terminated. If a problem can be tolerated, Mr. Lloyd, my phone does not ring.”
    Lloyd asked, “Are you familiar at all with the Lagos Natural Gas contract?”
    Riegel answered immediately. “I suspected this would be in reference to the Nigerian fiasco. Rumor has it some fool attorney over there in Legal forgot to proofread a contract, and the Nigerians are backing out of a ten-billion-dollar deal we have already put two hundred million into. I had a feeling I would be contacted on the matter.”
    “Yes, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.”
    “Doesn’t sound so complicated. I just need the offending attorney’s address. We’ll make it look like suicide. The stupid bastard should be enough of a good company man to go ahead and kill himself, but you can’t expect that kind of loyalty from a lawyer. No offense, Lloyd from Legal.”
    “No! No, Riegel, you’ve got it wrong. We need someone else killed.”
    Riegel cleared his throat. “Go on, then.”
    Lloyd told the VP of Security Risk Management Ops of the assassination of Isaac Abubaker, the president’s refusal to sign the repaired contract without proof of his brother’s killer’s own death.
    Kurt snorted. “We climb into bed with these dictators, and then we act surprised when they grab us by the nuts.” Riegel’s English was flawless, idiomatic American. He sat down behind his desk, grabbed a pen, and pulled a notepad across the leather blotter to him. “So we need to ID the hit man and dispose of him?” asked Riegel.
    “He has already been identified.”
    “You just need him eliminated? I was expecting something more complicated than this after Mr. Laurent’s phone call.”
    “Yes, well, this assassin is no slouch.”
    “The trouble with private killers is all in the identification. If you know who he is, I’ll have him found and dead within twenty-four hours.”
    “That would be ideal.”
    “I mean, unless we’re talking about the Gray Man. He’s a couple of cuts above the rest.”
    Lloyd said nothing.
    After the American’s long hesitation, Riegel said, “Ach, so! We are talking about the Gray Man, aren’t we?”
    “Is that going to be a problem?”
    It was Riegel’s turn to pause. Finally he said, “Certainly a complication . . . but not a problem. He is extremely good at keeping a low profile, hence his moniker. He’ll be hard to find, but the good news is he will have no reason to expect we are coming after him.”
    Lloyd remained silent yet again.
    “Or will he?”
    “I arranged an attempt on his life last night. It failed. He survived.”
    “How many men did he kill?”
    “Five.”
    “Idiot.”
    “Mr. Riegel, the Gray Man is clearly no idiot. His history shows us—”
    “ He is not the idiot! You are the idiot! A damn lawyer who tries to orchestrate a hit on the greatest alpha killer in the world. Some poorly planned, cobbled-together, hurriedly executed disaster of an operation, no doubt! You should have come to me immediately. Now he will be on guard, expecting whoever it was who organized the attempt on his life will just try again.”
    “I am no idiot, Riegel. I have his handler in my custody. I have persuaded him to help us locate Gentry.”
    “Who’s Gentry?”
    “Courtland Gentry is the Gray Man.”
    Riegel sat up as erect and broad and square as the desk in front of him. “How is it you know his identity?”
    “I am not at