Consent to Kill

  Looking back on it now, it was a good thing that he had spared the son’s life six months ago. His rationale at the time had been straightforward. After being tortured, Waheed had given Rapp crucial information that had helped stop nuclear attacks against Washington, DC, and New York City. In the emotional hangover that followed the foiled attacks Rapp had decided not to execute the zealot. He found the Saudi to be a bit of a simpleton and rather than shoot him, he stuck him in a Northern Alliance jail with the thought that maybe, over time, he would lessen his extreme positions and in ten years or so he could be released. For good reason they decided to tell the Saudi government that Waheed was dead. Waheed’s father had too much influence, and too much money. If it was known that the son was alive, the father would stop at nothing to get him back. What Rapp had failed to see at the time was that the father would also stop at nothing to get his twisted revenge. Rapp had gone with the false assumption that the father would blame the son for getting involved with al-Qaeda and for being up to his neck in a plan to kill millions of innocent civilians and unhinge financial markets, but he was wrong. The father was a Wahhabi and a jihadist to the core. Kennedy could look for her proof, but it wouldn’t matter a bit to Rapp. He could not bring Anna back, but he sure as hell would punish those responsible for her death.

  Rapp had popped a couple of pills and had managed to get a few hours of sleep on the flight from Mazar-e Sharif to Qatar. The journey had taken several hours longer than was necessary because they had to detour around Iranian airspace. By the time they landed in Doha, the sun was coming up over the Persian Gulf. Coleman kept an office and airplane hangar at the airport in Doha that he used as a forward staging area to bring his people and equipment into the region. He pulled the plane into the hangar, and the large doors were closed. By the time the local customs official, whom Coleman had on the take, showed up, Abdullah had already been transferred to the back of the rented van. The official took a moment to look at everyone’s passports. He applied the proper stamps, handed them back, collected an envelope from Coleman, and was gone.

  Rapp wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. The drive from Doha to Riyadh would take a good five hours and he wanted to be there by noon. This was where things got a little hairy. Coleman wanted to follow Rapp into the city. Rapp flat-out said no. He and Coleman got into a serious argument. Coleman insisted that he have backup every step of the way. Rapp told Coleman that his blond hair and blue eyes made him stick out like a sore thumb in the region, whereas Rapp, with his flawless Arabic and dark complexion, had no problem fitting in. Waheed was drugged, and Rapp would have no problem handling him. He did not plan on getting caught, but if he did, things would be particularly nasty. Ally or not, the Saudis were not known for their humane treatment of prisoners. Rapp was very appreciative of the help he’d received so far, but this was something he wanted to do on his own, and he did not budge. Coleman, for his part, knew Rapp well enough to know that there would be no changing his mind, so he finally stepped aside and let him go. They would meet him on the outskirts of Riyadh, where Rapp would ditch the van.

  Waheed was stripped naked while still unconscious and dressed in a fresh set of clothes including a vest and robes. He was then placed back in the van and given one more shot that would keep him unconscious for roughly three more hours. Rapp wanted him out when he crossed the border, but semialert by the time they reached Riyadh. Long Styrofoam coolers packed with seafood and dry ice were then placed all around Waheed until he was entombed. Rapp gave Coleman his fake U.S. passport and a few other things for safekeeping. He concealed his gun, silencer, and extra ammunition in the bottom of one of the coolers, as well as $10,000 in cash, a change of clothes, and a separate set of IDs and credit cards.

  Crossing the border was easy. Rapp had a well-worn Yemeni passport as well as a worker’s visa for both Qatar and Saudi Arabia. There was a decent amount of traffic that traveled back and forth between Doha and Riyadh, and the border guards were not worried about anyone trying to sneak into Saudi Arabia. The border guard glanced briefly at the passport and then waved Rapp through. Twice between the border and Al Hufuf, Rapp pulled over in remote areas to check on Waheed and get rid of a few of the coolers. He would need the extra room in back when they got to their final destination. Between Al Hufuf and Riyadh, he stopped to fill up on gas and check one last time on Waheed. He was awake but groggy. Rapp removed his gag and gave him some water and a few bites of a candy bar. He kept Waheed’s hands bound and the blindfold on and explained to him how the exchange would take place. Waheed for his part remained docile and a bit out of it. This worried Rapp a little. He needed the Saudi to be able to stand on his own and walk.

  If Waheed was unable to walk, Rapp would have to come up with another plan. He was trying to figure out what he’d do when the oasis of Riyadh appeared on the horizon. A moment later his satellite phone started beeping. It was Kennedy. Rapp answered and listened intently as she briefed him on what she’d found in Switzerland. All in all, twenty-two million dollars had been transferred from a Swiss account owned by Saeed Ahmed Abdullah to five separate Swiss accounts owned by Erich Abel. Kennedy had found her proof.

  “Who is this Abel guy?” Rapp asked.

  “I don’t know much more than I told you last night. I ordered a full workup done on him and I expect an update within the hour.”

  “Any idea where he is?”

  “No, but we’re watching his apartment in Vienna and tracking his credit cards.”

  Rapp looked past the windshield at the vast barren landscape. “Something doesn’t add up, Irene.”

  “Like what?”

  “These e-mails you received…we’re missing something. People in this line of work don’t just sprout a conscience one day. I think it’s like Scott said.” Rapp had discussed the anonymous e-mails with Coleman on the flight from DC to Afghanistan. “These guys all thought I was dead. They got the balance of the contract, and then the news broke that I was alive. Saeed went nuts and wanted his money back, so he crapped all over this Abel guy and he in turn crapped all over the hired gun. Rather than give the money back…the hired gun turns in Abel with the hopes that I’ll kill him and he can keep his money.”

  “Your line of logic works, but there are a few things I haven’t told you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I received a fourth e-mail last night. It was quite long. From it I’ve discerned a few things.”

  Rapp looked over his shoulder to see what Waheed was up to. “I’m listening,” he said into the phone.

  “Abel hired two people for the job.”

  Rapp nodded. “No big surprise.”

  “Well…this will be.” Kennedy sighed. “This morning, one of those people deposited five million dollars in a Swiss bank account under your name.”

  Rapp wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Say again.”

  “One of the people Abel hired to kill you deposited five million dollars in a Swiss bank account that was set up by this person in your name.”

  “Why?” was all Rapp could think to say.

  “It’s a little complicated, but I’ll try to give you the brief version. The team hired to kill you had a bit of a falling-out. One of them didn’t want to take the job in the first place. Not surprisingly, this is the one who’s been corresponding with me. When Anna was killed by mistake, things got ugly between the two, and they went their separate ways.”

  “So how does that explain the five million dollars?”

  Kennedy sighed, “The woman is pregnant.”

  “Woman?” Rapp said in a confused voice. He’d been sure they were talking about two men.

  “Yes, a woman. It turns out she is pregnant and knows that Anna was pregnant. She feels a tremendous amount of guilt over her role in this.”

  Rapp was only half listening. His mind was searching for something. Something that he knew was supposed to be important. The blow to his head had scrambled certain memories, and some of the things that had hap
pened in the days preceding the attack were a bit sketchy.

  “She’s a woman,” Rapp said more to himself than Kennedy.

  “Yes,” Kennedy replied. “Typically they are the ones who get pregnant.”

  Rapp ignored her remedial tone and said, “And her partner is a man.”

  “I would assume so,” Kennedy sighed. “And quite possibly the father of the child.”

  The scene flickered across Rapp’s mind like a homemade movie. He muttered, “I saw them.”

  “What?”

  “I saw them on the road the day before my knee surgery. I was coming back from a run and came around the corner and there they were.” Rapp had a clear picture of the two of them. He suddenly recalled that the man gave him a bit of concern. He had that lean, athletic quality that is so prevalent with the Special Forces guys. Kennedy was saying something, but Rapp wasn’t listening. He was focused on the replay of what had happened. The man had said something to him. Rapp could hear the voice. He had said that she was pregnant. The woman was throwing up. He remembered the man’s glasses and wishing he could get a look at his eyes. He’d asked them a few questions and the guy had done all the talking and then finally the woman stood up and said something. There was something unusual about what she said. Rapp struggled to remember what it was and then it hit him. It wasn’t what she said, it was how she said it. The woman had a French accent.

  65

  ZIHUATANEJO, MEXICO

  L ouie kissed Claudia on the forehead and slowly pulled his arm from under her neck. She stirred and rolled onto her other side. Carefully, he flipped back the sheets and slid out of bed. He went to the bathroom to relieve himself and then decided to go out to the patio. Looking out at the ocean he leaned over and rested his forearms on top of the wall. Sunrise was fast approaching. The sky above him was gray, and the sky to the west was black.

  Louie was glad he’d come to his senses and abandoned the idea to finish the job. Losing Claudia after all they’d been through would’ve been extremely stupid. He’d recognized before it was too late that it was his ego that had been driving him to finish the job. The desire to be known someday as the man who had defeated the great Mitch Rapp mixed with his need to finish everything he started had blinded him to the reality of the situation. The professional in him kicked in when he was clearing U.S. customs at the Houston International Airport. He had one set of identification, one credit card, no weapon, and just under $8,000 in cash. The likelihood that he could successfully get to Rapp, who would now be alert and protected, was not good. The odds that he could kill the man and get out of the country without leaving a trail were next to nothing.

  Ultimately, though, it was that one memory of Rapp the day they had accidentally bumped into each other on the road that had forced him to come to his senses. Louie had spent the entirety of his adult life around soldiers. Men who were trained to go off and fight. They came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some had overpowering physical presence, but were as dumb as a potted plant. Louie had used these men in the same way one used pack mules. He had them carry heavy machine guns or mortars. Other men were wiry and small, but had great instincts or organizational skills. These men became clerks, or if they had endurance they were trained to be snipers or scouts. Muscle could be added or heft could be taken away. Basic skills could be drummed into the stupidest of men, but instinct was something that could not be taught. It could be discovered and nurtured, but you were either born with it or you were out of luck.

  Standing in the Houston airport waiting for the flight that would take him back to DC, Louie remembered the way Rapp had looked at him on that morning, and the way his hand had hovered just above the fanny pack that undoubtedly concealed a gun. They had found out later, from listening to the wife’s conversations, that he had been hurt on that morning. Louie remembered hearing the wife tell a friend that she had never seen her husband in so much pain. At the time Louie was thinking in terms of how he could use the injury to his advantage and hadn’t bothered to connect the fact that despite being in great pain, Rapp’s instincts had still detected something wrong that morning on the road by his house. Like any highly developed predator, Rapp was acutely in touch with his senses and his surroundings at all times.

  As the departure for the flight to DC neared, Louie began to lose his nerve for the first time he could remember since almost drowning in a scuba training accident at the age of twenty-one. His subsequent trips to the ocean had been terrifying, and if it hadn’t been for his fellow paratroopers standing right next to him he had no doubt that he would have quit. The only thing worse than his fear of the water was his fear of letting down his fellow brothers in arms. But now, alone in an airport filled with strangers, there was no esprit de corps. His thoughts turned to Claudia and the child that was growing within her. Without any further thought he returned to the Continental ticket counter and exchanged his ticket to DC for a flight to Ixtapa.

  Louie looked down at the waves breaking against the rocks beneath him and smiled. He was confident that he had made the right decision. To think that he had almost abandoned Claudia when she’d needed him most embarrassed him. Louie had always sworn that he would never be like his own father. Leaving her like that in the airport, pregnant and traumatized, was just the thing his father would have done.

  Louie watched the sailboats gently rock back and forth on the water. This place was special. It was too bad they couldn’t stay here and raise a family.

  Just then Claudia came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I got up to go to the bathroom and decided to come out here and look at the water.” Louie stood up straight and grabbed her hands. “How great is this place?”

  “Much better with you here.”

  He undid her hands and stood next to her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers wrapped around his waist, they stood there looking out across the bay. With a sigh, Louie said, “It’s too bad.”

  “What?”

  “That we’re going to have to leave.”

  “Why?” she asked, her voice filled with disappointment.

  “You know why. It’s too risky to stay in one place for too long. Especially right now.”

  Claudia’s heart sank as she remembered the difficult road that lay ahead. She had yet to tell Louie what she’d done in the days they were apart and it was beginning to weigh heavily on her. There was no telling how he would react when she told him, although one thing was certain; the longer she waited to tell him the harder it would be. Claudia rested her head against Louie’s bare chest, and started to speak but suddenly lost the courage.

  Louie noticed something was bothering her and asked, “What?”

  She held him tight and asked, “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do,” he said with a slight laugh.

  “I have something I must tell you.” She kissed his chest and added, “But I want you to think about what I am going through while I tell you this.”

  Louie grabbed her by the shoulders and took a step back. He knew Claudia well enough to be warned by her tone. “What did you do?”

  She looked him in the eye, wavered, thought she might not have the courage, and then blurted out, “I have been in contact with the CIA.”

  Louie searched her eyes for the truth. She was not lying to him. In as calm a voice as he could muster he asked, “Why?”

  “It is complicated. It started out as a way to say that I was sorry for what happened to the woman. On top of that you know I don’t like Abel. I didn’t from the moment I met him.”

  “I don’t care about Abel. I want to know what you did.”

  “After we parted ways, Abel sent several more threatening e-mails. I decided if that was the way he wanted to play I would give the CIA his name and see how he liked it when Mitch Rapp showed up looking for him.”

  Louie nodded slowly. A part of him admired Claudia for the move. He had warned Abel to watch his step.
The man was in no position to threaten them, but he supposed the German was under a great deal of pressure to get the money back. The type of pressure that sometimes causes people to do very foolish things. “The CIA is a big place,” Louie said. “Who did you contact?”

  “Director Kennedy.”

  This surprised Louie momentarily. “When you say you’ve been in contact, what exactly does that mean?”

  “We have e-mailed each other.”

  “How many times?” Louie asked, his chest tightening.

  “I sent her four e-mails.”

  Louie released her shoulders and nearly bit off his own tongue. “Why four?”

  Claudia’s big brown eyes welled with tears. She could see Louie struggling to contain his anger. She ignored the question and moved onto the part that was really going to send him through the roof. “Please stay calm for a moment so I can get this all out, and then if you want to leave me I’ll understand.”

  “I’m not going to leave you,” he said, almost as if he was convincing himself.

  Claudia grabbed his hands. “We’ve always split everything…Right?”

  He nodded.

  She knew of no easy way to say it so it just came out. “I put five million dollars into a Swiss bank account under Rapp’s name.”