Smooth Operator: The Life and Crimes of Warren Baker

By Gamal Hennessy

He knows what you want...

Born into privilege, wounded by war, and skilled in the art of manipulation, Warren Baker works like a spider. He weaves plans and plots, drawing people into his web until they accomplish his goals without ever knowing he was involved.

In some cases, his influence is as delicate as a woman's smile. In others, he is a blunt instrument ruthlessly pursuing his goals. All the stories reveal insights into this complicated man and his mysterious quest for power.

Smooth Operator is ultimately about our desires, and how they define us. From ambition to passion, from bloodlust to vengeance, our motivations do more than shape what we are willing to do; they reveal who we are as people.

When you are faced with a critical life choice, what you are capable of?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gamal Hennessy
• Release date: Feb 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311155382

Gamal Hennessy

Gamal Hennessy is an author from New York City. He is also the president of Nightlife Publishing. His fiction blends elements of the Usual Suspects, Jason Bourne and Scandal. His first anthology, Smooth Operator: The Life and Crimes of Warren Baker reached number three on the Amazon's list of spy fiction. A Taste of Honey is his first novel.

Book preview

Of Mice and Men

An Interview with Warren Baker

I met him at Norwood on a Tuesday night. I normally can’t get into a place like that on any night. It’s one of the few private clubs left in the city, and I’m not a member. I don’t have five thousand dollars to spend on a club membership, and even if I did, I don’t have the personal references to open up doors like that. Baker clearly had both of those resources. My name was on the list as his guest, so I went to the elevator quickly, before the frosty but polite hostess changed her mind about me and told the gigantic doorman to kick me out.

Norwood isn’t really the type of place you think of when someone says club. There is no disco ball or smoke machine. There is no massive sound system that will make your ears bleed if you stand too close. Norwood feels much more like the British clubs that the characters in an Oscar Wilde story were always flitting in and out of. When I got out of the elevator, I had to move around small clusters of European artists flirting with each other over wine. I roamed over ornate carpets that swallowed the conversations around me and passed under low chandeliers that cast more shadows than light, before I found him sitting alone.

He was nestled in a high-backed leather chair, cradling a neat glass of what looked like whiskey. He had both legs stuck out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. His dark wood cane rested at his elbow. He glanced out the window at the passing busses on Fourteenth Street as I approached. That’s when I knew he saw me come into the club. He probably saw me in the reflection of the glass as I entered the room. Warren Baker may have been relaxed, but he was still very much aware.

You’re late, he observed as I sat down in a chair opposite his.

No, I’m not. You said meet you here at ten. Its nine fifty-five now. I’m early.

Early for the masses, late for a professional Baker looked at me with a mischievous grin as he went for a sip of his drink. You got here just in time to meet me, but you don’t know anything about this place or the surrounding area. You have no idea where the viable exits are, and if something goes sideways tonight, you will be very properly fucked.

I shrugged. True, but I’m not a professional spy. I’m a writer. All that tradecraft shit is your job, not mine. A bright, cheery waitress with a practiced smile came to take my order, ignoring the empty chair opposite me.

Baker admired the girl’s shape as she sauntered away. They say writers should write about what they know. How are you going to write about people like me if you don’t know anything about the way we think or how we live?

That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? You give me some insight into the shadows, and I’ll pay for the drinks. It seems like a pretty fair trade to me.

Baker snorted as he knocked back the last of the whiskey. I’m glad you think so. This stuff is seventy-five dollars a glass, and I’m going to need a few of them to tell a proper story.

I felt my eyes roll in my head. Then we better get started. The waitress returned for a moment and then left me alone with my drink.

Fine, he said, sitting back in the leather chair as if he planned to be there for a while. What do you want to know?

Why don’t we start with you explaining what the fuck you’re up to?

He grinned. Right now, I’m drinking expensive whiskey and not paying for it.

That’s not what I meant, asshole. What are you doing with RSVP? You’re all over the place. Your actions are not making any sense.

He regarded me for a moment with amused disdain. You really don’t know anything about the way we work, do you? He took a ten-dollar sip of his drink. In the trade, we call it asset management. It’s collecting the people you need to complete your objectives by offering them what they want most.

You’re dealing with an odd group of characters. How do you know what each one wants, and how do you go about getting it for them?

Research and legwork play a big part of it; know your enemy and know yourself and all that nonsense. But in the end, it all comes down to MICE.

What the hell do rodents have to do with anything?

Baker rolled his eyes back at me. How can someone so ignorant claim to be a writer? MICE is an acronym that describes one of the fundamentals of human intelligence. According to the theory, the methods for manipulating human behavior boil down to four key motivations: money, ideology, coercion, and excitement. Once you find out which one appeals to a potential asset, you have a much better chance of recruiting them.

He waved his free hand in a sweeping motion as the whiskey loosened his tongue. For example, Chu is easy. He just wants money to throw around in clubs to impress the boys. Ria is more complicated. Anything I want her to do has to be tied to her hatred of sexual predators. Mendoza and Carpenter respond to threats, and Trent needs action. They all get what they need, and I get what I need.

And what do you need? His only response to my probing question was another expensive sip of whiskey. I decided to go in a different direction.

How did you get started in intelligence? Were you recruited by the CIA right out of college?

He answered the question quickly, with a cynical smile that revealed both preparation and contempt. When I was in South America, I told the local assets that I was born into a poor family and joined the military for a chance to escape my circumstances before the CIA recruited me. That made me appear more empathetic to their struggles. When I was transferred to North Africa, the story was that I was a rich kid who went to an Ivy League school and joined the agency to piss off my parents. They liked the rebellious streak in that cover.

But which one is true?

Baker waved a hand again, this time dismissively. Both. Neither. It doesn’t make a difference. Now I’m in the private sector and I have a fairly good idea of what I’m doing. My backstory is just a fabrication. Everyone’s backstory is just a fabrication, really. Now is what counts.

I glanced down at his injured leg. That doesn’t look like a fabrication. How did you get that?

It was an ambush in Karbala. It was a parting gift from my last day in the field for Trident Solutions. He knocked back the rest of the liquor in one shot, as if he was trying to drown a memory or an emotion.

That must have changed your life in a major way, I said almost to myself.

Baker stared out the window. The action seemed less about looking out at the streets and more about looking into his own mind. I need to be out in the field. I want to talk to my people, look into their eyes, know their secrets, and all that shit. My talents are wasted behind a desk. He rubbed his damaged leg softly. The bad news is that I’m a liability on the street. Sometimes all the tradecraft in the world can’t replace running if bullets start to fly. So now I live through my people. He let go of his leg and looked back at me. The good news is that I still have fantastic sex."

With your wife? I had already seen the ring on his finger as he held up the glass.

Among others Baker started on another drink.

Are you cheating on your wife? My question wasn’t accusatory. His response wasn’t defensive.

Are you asking me out on a date?

No. I don’t have sex with men.

That’s good. You’re not cute enough to have sex with men.

So you are cheating on your wife.

I wouldn’t say that. It’s hard to cheat on someone when she knows what you’re doing.

You tell her what you do?

I tell her who I sleep with. I never tell her what I do; need to know and all that stuff.

Does she have lovers too? Does she tell you about them?

She does, but that doesn’t mean I don’t confirm the data. A man in my position needs to know things like that. Single-source information isn’t reliable enough to be actionable.

So what kind of actions are you going to take?

Baker shrugged. At this point, none. Her needs are fulfilled and she is as safe as she can be. No need to disrupt something that’s working.

OK. So what kind of actions are you going to take with your mice?

The mischievous smile came back as he examined his drink. I have something cooking in South America at the moment. If it goes well, that operation will yield some actionable intelligence and put me one step closer to where I need to be.

And where is that?

The look he gave me was dark and dangerous. Not all of our enemies come from the Middle East or Afghanistan. We’ve got gangs and cartels invading this country with private armies and money to burn. My clients want them dealt with, quietly. To do that I’m going to need a team that can operate outside the corporate intelligence framework.

If this covert action is so sensitive, why are you telling me? Aren’t you worried that I’ll blow your cover or something?

Baker shook his head with a smile. Not really. The names, dates, and details of the operations have all been changed. You’re not a leak. You’re just misinformation, assuming anyone reads your book, which they probably won’t. You’re no threat to me.

"What if you’re wrong? What if this becomes a best seller and someone finds out the truth?’

You let me worry about that. You just go tell your little stories. I’ll take care of the rest.

I got up and walked upstairs to join the party I was invited to. As I climbed the steps, I wondered where Baker’s schemes would end. I also wondered where the exits were in Norwood. I decided it made sense to know that kind of stuff, just in case the night went sideways.

Asset Management

November 10, 7:45 a.m.

Rose Mendoza disliked Warren Baker from the moment he hobbled into her office.

The suit, the tie pin, the pocket square, and the cuff links all screamed overindulgence to her. Even his walking cane looked expensive. His easy smile and confident presence were so natural, that she assumed he rehearsed the look in front of a mirror.

Baker should be coming into her office on his knees, pleading to keep his job. Instead, he walked in like he was expecting a promotion. She had a surprise for him. His termination would be one of her first major management decisions at RSVP.

Thank you for meeting me so early, Ms. Mendoza. Baker melted easily into the wooden chair opposite her desk. He rested his cane up against the thick wood and placed his hands neatly in his lap. The fool didn’t show up with documentation to defend himself, or even a pad and pen for pretending to take notes.

What a simpleton. The company would be better off without him. She wasn’t impressed by his military background or his injury. He needed to know his place. She decided to lead with that idea and go straight to the heart of the matter.

Mr. Baker, do you appreciate your employment at this company?

Absolutely, Baker beamed and raised his hands, like he was giving a speech to a crowd of thousands. We’ve had a rough year, but I see a lot of opportunities for growth. I’ve been putting in extra time on business development.

Rose opened the folder on her desk and pulled out the spreadsheet she had printed. I can see that you have billed a large number of hours. I can see that you have spent huge sums of company resources on background checks, research, wire taps, surveillance teams, and miscellaneous expenses. What I don’t see is any business being developed. Smile your way out of that.

Warren held a hand up as if to stop her, and he looked away as if he understood completely. What a politician. She thought he might even have the nerve to say That’s a good question, I’m glad you asked it. Thankfully, he avoided that particular cliché.

I’m working on a long-term project, Ms. Mendoza. I’m putting assets in place that…

Mr. Baker, I joined this company to help chart its long-range future. As you know, intelligence companies like ours are facing stiff competition now that the Iraq and Afghanistan contracts are drying up. So I was brought in to help guide this office through a financial shortfall caused by a lack of business.

I understand completely. That’s why…

So when the first report I get concerns one of my case officers spending hundreds of thousands of dollars and not producing any results, I have to question his utility to this organization. It is my responsibility to investigate the situation and take steps that are in the best interest of the company. Do you understand that?

As she drilled into him with her eyes, she looked for the telltale signs of surrender: the slumped shoulders, the nervous quiver in his lip, the downcast and embarrassed eyes.

She didn’t see any of that. Baker was upright, smiling, and meeting her angry glare with bright eyes and an inviting gesture. Absolutely, that’s why I was so glad you could see me now. I wanted to invite you to sit in on my latest investigation.

It took a moment for Rose to respond. What do you mean?

I’m about to wrap up the last few interviews for the project I’ve been developing. I thought this would be the best time to bring you in, introduce you to the asset management process, and give you firsthand substantiation for my expenses. The first gentleman is waiting in my office now if you’d like to join me.

Rose opened her mouth to launch into a tirade and fire Baker on the spot, but then she considered the situation and smiled. Why not give him the rope to hang himself? You come off as a fair-minded executive, and you get rid of this pompous clown.

All right, Mr. Baker. Let’s see what you’ve got.

November 10, 8:04 a.m.

Baker rested his cane on the side of his own desk and sat opposite his guest, a man who introduced himself as Steven Campbell. It was obvious that the man was trying hard to maintain his poise, but the way his eyes kept darting across the room at her revealed his discomfort.

Baker noticed the man’s fidgeting and took steps to calm him. You don’t have to worry about her. She’s not here to watch you. She’s here for me. You don’t have anything to worry about.

Steven didn’t respond. He just raised his shoulders and tucked his chin, in a futile attempt to hide in a nonexistent shell.

Warren raised a comforting hand. We just want to know how you met her and what she said. You’re not in any trouble. We already know everything. We just want to find out more about her.

Steven’s legs were crossed, but his bottom leg kept bouncing up and down, as if he was fighting the urge to run out of the office. He shot another look at Rose, then back at Baker, and then let out a huff. Fine, I’ll tell you what I know, but you can’t tell her I told you.

Of course, all this is strictly confidential.

And you’ll pay Kevin’s hospital bill?

Rose wouldn’t sit by and watch Baker agree to another enormous expense. Who is Kevin? And who is this ‘she’ that we’re talking about?

Baker smiled at Campbell as if he was expecting the question. Without missing a beat, he said. Kevin Shaw is Mr. Campbell’s former partner. ‘She’ is Ria Marlen, the subject of this investigation.

Rose wanted to ask another question to drill down on this whole charade, but there was something in Campbell’s reaction that stopped her. He visibly flinched when Baker mentioned Ria Marlen. Rose wanted to know why.

If Baker saw the man’s fear he didn’t acknowledge it. Go ahead, Steven. Start at the beginning.

Are you sure?

Absolutely

Steven sighed audibly and glanced down at the floor. It all started when I met Grace at Fashion Week. I was sipping Moet at the Dior after party, bitching about Kevin and all the shit he put me through. Everyone else ignored me, but Grace listened to me rant.

Who is Grace? Rose asked.

Baker gave her a condescending look and then smiled at Campbell. She hasn’t had time to review the file. Turning back to her with that same plastic grin, he added, "Grace Holland is a fashion editor for the SoHo News. My wife reads that magazine all the time. Go ahead, sir."

Steven’s eyes shot around the room. Rose decided it was best to let him talk and not interrupt him anymore. "Anyway, she was really sympathetic to my problem, but who wouldn't be? Kevin took advantage of our relationship for years. I can't tell you how many times he beat me.

"I should have left him, but I loved him, so I stayed. And then he turns around and leaves me! It was fucking ridiculous. I mean, being dumped for another man is one thing, but a woman? He treated me like I was some kind of failed experiment. I wanted him to pay for what he did to me.

"Anyway, we started joking about getting back at him. I think I suggested that I wanted to have him beaten like he beat me, and how I wanted his bitch girlfriend to watch, so she could see how pathetic he is.

"That's when Grace asked me if I was serious, and I was. Kevin fucking tortured me.

"Then she asked me if I could really go through with it. I said no. Not because I was scared. I’m just above things like that. That's when she told me there was someone I should meet, someone who would understand my situation, help solve my problem.

"I didn’t like the idea at first. I don't need strangers in my business, even though I had just met Grace at the party and told her so much over the champagne. But she seemed like good people. She said, ‘Trust me, dear, my friend can help you. She knows people.’ She sounded like my grandmother when she talked like that, so I agreed to meet her friend.

"I met her two days later over drinks at Double Seven. The place was filled with little girls in desperately short skirts and the old men who loved to grope them, but this girl stood out. She was drop-dead gorgeous. I mean that literally. There was something about her that was exotic and dangerous. As soon as I saw her I knew she could kill you as easily as she could fuck you, pardon my language. Maybe it was the dark skin or the short hair or just the way she prowled into the room, but she owned it. I knew she could help me.

"It was mostly small talk over cocktails, which I wound up paying for, by the way. We didn’t really start talking about my problems until after we left. She led me toward the West Side Highway, underneath the Highline. I was nervous. An elevated park is really cute in the daytime, but the streets underneath the old railroad tracks are scary at night. No one really goes there unless they want a drunken fuck between cars, sorry. Anyway, she talked while we walked. It was hard to hear her sometimes. She spoke very low. But I didn’t really

Reviews for Smooth Operator

[chantelle713 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

★★★★Smooth Operator The Life and Crimes of Warren Baker by Gamal HennessyI was given this ARC in exchange for my honest review.Warren Baker is spec ops. He is employed by RSVP, but due to an injury that has left him permanently disabled, he is a paper pusher. He is a liability, more than an asset. But once you live a life like that, you can't go back to the mundane life of a normal person. And he can not sit behind the desk. He likes to think of himself as an asset manager. I know he is the cocky, arrogant jerk, I should hate, but I'm don't. I might be crushing on him. He's the kind of bad boy, I would defiantly like to play games with.Getting what you want, from who you want is as simple as M.I.C.E. Everyone is driven by something, you just have to figure it out, and exploit the hell out of it. Money is a great motivator for the materialist types. Ideology is great for the person with strong beliefs. Coercion, works well, blackmail can't be ignored. And finally Excitement, for the thrill seekers.This story follows Baker and some of the ops he's worked.Rose Mendoza, is in charge of profits/looses for the company. And she is going for Baker's head. Just goes to show book smarts, isn't the same as common sense and street smarts. Maybe taking her salary, would keep profits up.I like Trent. He's the adrenaline junkie. Bonus points for throwing PK into the book. What a great entrance and extraction plan. Knowing he can label his ops SNAFU, just adds to my appeal. He can call me Summer or Rain, anytime he wants.Rita Marlen is a piece of work. Whatever you do don't cross her. I really don't know if I love her or hate her. Towards the end I was warming up to her, but she is so shady, even amongst this group.Hamilton Chu, love him. He's out spoken, slightly defiant, and a smart mouth. But he is a gamer. Shaking my head, I swear they are everywhere, just to raise my blood pressure. I guess at least his game of choice is football. He could be my personal shopper and football buddy. What more could a girl want? With his op being FUBAR, from the get go, you know it has to be good.Chris Carpenter is a habitual user. He has a way of buttering you up, to get whatever he wants. Never take anything he says at face value, there is always a hidden agenda. He'll do anything to keep his secrets quiet. I'm not feeling Chris. I was really hoping Nikki would punch him in the face, for all his wine and dine nonsense.I really liked this story. It was fast paced and full of action. And it left me wanting more.But there were some things that drove me crazy.*Time jumping- I know it makes for an interesting story. However, there are so many characters, plots, and story lines going on in here, it was overwhelming at times. Eventually I gave up on the whole date and time thing. I think the only way I would have followed it in proper order, since there was overlapping in story lines, would be to make a graph and plot it out. I do think the format is good, telling each persons story, by itself. I think if it would have played out in order it would have turned into a jumbled ball of mess.*Most of the stories feel unfinished to me. Book 2 is set to come out in Feb 2014, but that is a lot to keep track of for that long. I am left with so many questions.*Last one, and I'm probably the only person who would wonder about it or need to know it-What does RSVP stand for? This is driving me insane, lol. Guess I'll just have to make it up. Really Special, Very Private, or maybe Real Serious Violent People. I know it's Really Soft Velvet Pants, wouldn't want someone knowing it is private investigations.So I have an active imagination, nothing new.Thanks to the author, I enjoyed the ops and can't wait for more.