THEY HAD GATHERED in Stansfield’s study. It was a quarter past ten in the evening. The director had just returned from the White House and looked tired. At Rapp’s urging, Stansfield had requested extra protection. No one in the CIA’s Office of Security had asked any questions. They didn’t even bat an eye at the request. They were used to such things. Within thirty minutes of Stansfield making the call, a mobile command post and a Chevy Suburban arrived at the director’s house. The mobile command post came with two men to monitor the CP’s communication and surveillance equipment and two more heavily armed men to provide security. The Suburban had brought two German shepherds. The dogs and their machine-gun-toting handlers now patrolled the perimeter.
Inside the study, seated around the fireplace, were Rapp, Coleman, Kennedy, and Stansfield. Rapp looked at Stansfield and said, “I think it’s someone at the State Department.”
“It could be, but I’m not so sure.” Stansfield was speaking with a slight lisp. He was back on the morphine.
“Secretary Midleton has never been a big fan of the Agency,” added Kennedy.
Stansfield looked over at Coleman. “What do you think, Scott?”
The former Navy SEAL thought it over and then said, “We don’t have enough information.”
“We rarely do in this business,” said Rapp.
“I’ve gone back and looked at the map of that area where the cell tower is located.” Coleman shook his head. “The State Department isn’t the only organization around there that has a beef with the CIA.”
“True, but they are the strongest candidate,” Stansfield said.
“We need to find out who this Professor is.” Coleman looked from Stansfield to Rapp. “He is the key to this whole thing.”
“I agree, but he’s not answering his phone, and right now that’s the only link we have to him.”
“How is Marcus coming along with the search through the State Department files?” Kennedy asked.
“We looked at photos for almost three hours tonight,” said Coleman. “And we came up blank. When we’re finished here, I’m going to go back to look at more.”
“This is the key,” said Stansfield. “You have to keep looking for this Professor. He has to have a past. People don’t just fall into this line of work with no prior experience.” Everyone nodded in agreement.
“What about Secretary Midleton?” asked Rapp. “From the get-go, he was sticking his nose in this thing.” Rapp looked at Kennedy. “He called you the very next day after I hit Hagenmiller and wanted to know if the CIA had any involvement. Isn’t that jumping the gun just a bit?”
“That’s why I don’t think it’s him,” Stansfield said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s too obvious. Charles Midleton is a very subtle person. If he knew the real facts behind what had happened in Germany, he would not have been so eager to call Irene.”
“I don’t know. There’s something about the man I don’t trust.”
A rare smile creased Stansfield’s face. It must have been the morphine. “Mitchell, how many people do you trust?”
Rapp smiled. “Not many.”
“Exactly. That is why you are still alive, despite multiple attempts on your life.” Stansfield paused for a moment, then looked at Coleman and back to Rapp. “I want you two to do whatever it takes to find out who this Professor is, and then you must take him alive. If need be, we’ll have Dr. Hornig go to work on him.”
Rapp grimaced at the thought of getting Dr. Hornig involved. The woman was a complete sadist, skilled in the art of physical and mental torture. “You’re setting no boundaries for us.”
“There are always boundaries, Mitchell. Just use your best judgment, get results, and don’t get caught.”
“I might have to turn Marcus loose inside the NSA’s computer system.” Rapp checked to see how Kennedy was reacting to this piece of news.
Kennedy looked less than pleased, but before she could respond, Stansfield said, “Just make sure he doesn’t get caught. There is more at stake here than I fear any of you realize. No offense, Mitchell, but you were not their end game. Whoever is behind all of this has much bigger plans.”
“What do you think they’re after?”
Stansfield looked into the fire. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m beginning to see a few things…a few possibilities.” Looking back to Rapp, he said, “You two need to get moving, but before you go, there is one more thing we need to discuss. I want both of you to go pay Congressman O’Rourke a visit. It appears that you sent him an e-mail, Mitchell, that has him a little upset.” Stansfield looked at Kennedy.
The director of the Counterterrorism Center turned to Rapp. “Why didn’t you tell me about the e-mail?”
Rapp shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“Congressman O’Rourke is very important to me,” Stansfield said. “And it is my hope that in my absence, he will be very useful to Irene.”
“I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Like all of us,” started Kennedy, “he doesn’t like too many people knowing certain things about his past. He came to my office today, very upset. He wanted to know who you were and how you knew about the relationship among himself, his grandfather, and Scott.”
“That e-mail might not have been the best idea, but at the time I didn’t know what I was up against. I wanted him to take me seriously and keep his mouth shut.”
“Well, you don’t know Congressman O’Rourke very well,” Kennedy stated evenly. “I think I repaired the damage that you caused, but I want both of you to go over to his house and explain to him that his secret is safe.”
“When do you want us to take care of it?”
“Tonight. The sooner you can calm him down, the better. Call him first, and see if you can stop by on your way back into the city.”
They began cruising the Georgetown neighborhood at 10:56 P.M., the standard routine. Starting four blocks out, they worked their way toward the O’Rourkes’ house in a box pattern. Coleman was driving his Ford Explorer and was responsible for the left side while Rapp checked the right. They noted several vans parked within the four-block perimeter, but that was it. No individuals sitting behind the wheel of a parked sedan. Rapp felt confident enough to make the call. Besides, any idiot who tried to take on Coleman and him would be in for a very short fight.
Rapp wasn’t overly concerned about his diplomatic mission to appease Congressman O’Rourke. Yes, it was a good idea to calm the man down before he started asking too many questions, but Rapp was confident that O’Rourke would have never gone that far. Rapp liked Michael O’Rourke. He was a good man and a good husband. With hindsight, Rapp had to admit it might not have been fair to get him involved in this mess, but no harm, no foul.
Rapp would have liked to put the meeting off until morning, but the truth was, it gave him an excuse to see Anna. His stomach was doing flips over the thought of holding her. He had never felt like this in his entire life. Rapp grabbed his phone and dialed the O’Rourkes’ number. After just one ring, Michael answered.
“Michael, it’s me. I’m sorry I’m calling so late, but I need to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.” The voice was detached and cool.
“Not on the phone.”
“When?”
“Right now. I’m only seconds away. It won’t take long. I just have to explain a couple of things to you.”
“All right, but be quiet. Liz is asleep.”
A minute later, Coleman backed the Explorer into the brownstone’s small driveway. Michael O’Rourke was waiting for them at the door with his yellow Lab at his side. Rapp and Coleman bounded up the steps, both men checking the street as they went. They quickly ducked inside the house. O’Rourke held his index finger to his lips and then closed and locked the door. He gestured for the men to follow, and they went down the hall to the kitchen.
Rapp went straight to the back door and pulled back the curtain. After he was satisfied that no
one was in the backyard, he sat at the kitchen table. Duke immediately came up and dropped his snout on Rapp’s knee. The two had met before, and Duke liked him. O’Rourke asked if they wanted anything to drink. Both men declined. O’Rourke grabbed a beer from the fridge and twisted off the top. He chose to remain standing at the kitchen counter.
“I’m sorry about the e-mail,” started Rapp. “I didn’t do it in an effort to blackmail you, I did it so you would take me seriously.”
O’Rourke studied Rapp. “Who do you work for, Mitch?”
“I didn’t come here to get into all of that, Michael. I came here to tell you that your secret is safe with me. There is no reason I would tell anybody about your grandfather and Scott.”
O’Rourke looked over at Coleman and shook his head. “Well, I’ll tell you what, your secret is safe with me, too. So fill in the blanks for me, and we’ll be even.”
“Michael, I’m not going to tell you what I do. Just trust me on this one. Your wife and the woman I’m going to marry are best friends. I like you, I like Liz, there is no reason in the world for me to do anything that would harm you or your family.”
He took another drink of beer and seemed to think long and hard about what Rapp had said. “You know, I like you, too, Mitch, but I’ll be honest. If you’re involved in the type of stuff that I think you might be, I’m not exactly crazy about having you around my family.”
The words hurt. Rapp didn’t let it show, but they hurt. He didn’t want this life anymore. He wanted out. He wanted a normal life with a wife and some kids. “I respect that, and if you don’t want me around, I’ll do my best to stay away. Just know that your secret will always be safe with me.”
“If you really mean that, then tell me who you work for.”
“Michael, you are a congressman. There are certain things you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.” O’Rourke folded his arms across his chest. “I did a little digging into your past. There is no record of you serving in the armed forces, yet something tells me you have formal paramilitary training.”
“How is this information going to help you?”
“I want to know who I’m dealing with. Don’t worry about the committee. I’d just as soon stick a hot poker up my ass than tell Rudin something like this.”
The comment brought a smile to Rapp’s face. “All right, Michael, I’ll tell you what I do, but it goes no further. Not even Liz. I’ve known about your grandfather and Scott for some time, and I’ve never breathed a word of it to Anna.”
“Whatever you say is between us and no one else.”
Rapp tried to think of the best way to say it, and in the process he was reminded of something he’d said to the previous attorney general. It was at a meeting during the White House hostage crisis. Rapp had overstepped his bounds and allowed his temper to get the best of him. But it was worth it. In the end, he got his way, and a terrorist he had hunted for the better part of a decade was dead.
Rapp looked at Coleman briefly and then said, “I work for no government agency. I want to be very clear about that. I’m what you might call a counterterrorism specialist.”
“Okay…and what, may I ask, does a counterterrorism specialistdo?”
Rapp was not well versed in trying to spin what he did, so he just blurted out the hard, cold truth. “I kill terrorists.”
“Say again?”
“I hunt them down, and I kill them.”
The congressman set his beer down. He was expecting something along this line, but he didn’t expect to hear it in such a blunt way. After he had rebounded from Rapp’s confession, something fell into place for O’Rourke. “Is that how you met Anna? During the hostage crisis?”
“Yep.”
“Were you involved in the takedown?”
“Yep.”
Coleman laughed. “Shit, he was the takedown.”
“What do you mean?” asked O’Rourke.
“He means we’ll have to tell you that story a different time.” Rapp looked at Coleman and shook his head. Then, standing, he approached O’Rourke and stuck out his hand. “Michael, I’m sorry about all of this. Maybe someday after you leave office, I can tell you more, but until then, I’m sorry.”
O’Rourke took his hand and looked into Rapp’s eyes, not sure what to make of the whole thing. “I’d like that.”
“Just remember we’re on the same team.”
“Yeah.”
Coleman looked at his watch and said, “Hurry up and kiss your girlfriend. We have to get back to the ranch and check on the boys.”
Rapp grinned with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. “Where’s Anna, upstairs?”
“No.” O’Rourke shook his head. “She called just after eight and told Liz she was going to meet you. I thought that was why you were here. I thought she made you come over.”
Peter Cameron flew down Maryland Highway 214 in his silver metallic Lexus coupe with Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade blaring out of the car’s seven speakers. He had bought the car under one of his assumed names. Cameron was in the process of disobeying Senator Clark’s orders. He simply could not resist going to the house. It was too tempting. The home of Mitch Rapp. He had to see what it was like. He had to be involved in the hit. Senator Clark would not be happy, but if Cameron was careful, his boss would never know. He had called ahead and warned Duser of his arrival. The last thing he needed right now was the former Marine or one of his trigger-happy cronies shooting him by mistake. That was the other reason he needed to visit the house. If this plan was going to work, he couldn’t have those clowns showering the target with bullets.
As Cameron turned off of 214, he looked at his mobile phone and wondered when Rapp would call again. Rapp had called every hour since they had talked this afternoon, and he had intentionally neglected to answer the phone. The last call had been around nine P.M., almost two hours ago. Cameron hadn’t thought of this, but if Rapp didn’t call back, they would have a problem. He decided not to worry about it. Rapp would call him again. If not tonight, he would do it in the morning.
He ran his car through its paces as he zipped down the dark country-road. The senator’s plan was great, but there were some areas where it needed work. Multiple contingencies had to be put into place in case something went wrong, and the odds were good that something would. Cameron had envisioned for months finding Rapp’s head perfectly centered in the cross hairs of one of his high-powered rifle scopes. That dream had been destroyed by the senator. Clark didn’t give him any specifics beyond ruling out a long-distance shot, only that he was adamant that it must look like a murder-suicide. The girl would be easy, but Rapp might pose a problem. He was not a man to be underestimated, and the trick here would be to get close enough to shoot him in the head. With the way forensic science was today, they would have to be very careful how they left the crime scene.
They would have to keep the girl alive and take Rapp first. Cameron had decided on the weapon. He would use a .22-caliber pistol. That way, there would be no exit wound and no blood splatter. They would get Rapp to enter the house alone, hold the girl at gunpoint, and shoot him in the side of the head before he had a chance to do anything. Then they would shoot the girl with the same gun and leave. An anonymous call would be made to the local sheriff and then several more to the TV stations just to make sure the CIA didn’t try to cover it up.
Cameron knew there was one weakness in his plan. It was not going to be easy to get close enough to Rapp to kill him, and do it with only one shot. That would have to be his responsibility. He would have to stay cool right up until the last moment.
Cameron pulled into Rapp’s driveway and parked in front of a sedan. One of Duser’s men was standing on the small front porch. Cameron approached the man and told him to go get his boss. The sky was still overcast, the moon nowhere in sight. Duser came outside a minute later and offered Cameron a cigarette. He declined and watched Duser light up.
“How is she?”
Duser pulle
d the cigarette from his mouth. “She’s all right. A little nervous, but nothing I wouldn’t expect.”
“What’s she doing?”
“Watching the nightly news.”
“Did you disable her cell phone?”
“Yep.” Duser took another drag from his cigarette. “What’s the skinny on her boyfriend?”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s his story? Is there anything I should know about him?”
Cameron looked out across the lawn. The neighbors were about fifty feet away on both sides, and there was a lot of vegetation dividing the property lines. “There’s a chance he might be armed, but I wouldn’t worry. He won’t do anything as long as we have the girl.”
“You sure?”
“How many men do you have?”
“Six counting me.”
Cameron smiled. “He’s no match for you and your boys.” Duser was cocky and more than willing to believe the shit Cameron was shoveling at him. After checking his watch, Cameron said, “It’s getting late. I doubt it’s going to happen tonight. I want to talk to her, and then I should head back into town and grab a few things.”
“Why don’t we just tie her up and wait for him to show?”
“I don’t want to leave any marks on her unless we have to.” Cameron opened the door and walked into the house. Two of Duser’s bruisers were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. Their suit coats were off, and their weapons were clearly visible in their shoulder holsters. Cameron nodded to the two men and continued into the living area.
“Hello, Ms. Rielly, my name is Barry Lenzner.” Cameron stuck out his hand.
Rielly was sitting in the oversized chair with her legs crossed. She grabbed the stranger’s hand and said, “Hello.”
Cameron sat on the couch. The first thing he noticed about Rielly was her stunning green eyes. “I work for the Agency.” He gestured to the men in the kitchen. “I hope none of this has alarmed you?”
“No…not too much.” Rielly brushed some of her hair back behind her ears.