There was a long pause and then, “Who is this?”
“I’m one of Mike’s friends.”
“Where is he?” Karim asked angrily.
Rapp looked around said, “Ahhh . . . He just started vomiting.”
“Coward,” Karim scoffed. “I will make sure the media knows that your hero vomited before facing me.”
“Yeah . . . well not everyone can be a tough guy, right?”
“Who is this?”
Rapp looked up and saw Lewis and Hakim. “Dr. Lewis! I’m monitoring the situation here. Mr. Nash is obviously very traumatized by this.” Rapp tried to think of the words Lewis would choose. “He just got off the phone with his wife and boys. He wanted to say good-bye to them. He wanted them to have some closure.”
“Well, put him on the phone. It is time to make the exchange.”
“Hold on.” Rapp looked down and hit the mute key. He marched straight over to Hakim and said, “Are you honestly sick of seeing innocent people killed?”
Hakim looked up at the building bathed in lights and said, “Yes.”
Rapp thought it through one more time. “All right . . . then you’re going to get your chance to prove it. I’m going to hand you this phone and I want you to bait him like you’ve never baited him before. I want you to work him into an absolute fury.”
Hakim nodded. “I know just what to say.”
“Mitch,” Lewis said, “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“No time to argue,” Rapp snapped. “Slick, are you good to go?”
“Affirmative.”
Rapp grabbed Hakim and dragged him through the police and up the edge of the steps. Harris followed. “Art,” Rapp said, “take the phone from him if he tries to warn him.”
Harris pulled out his gun.
Rapp looked at the keypad, took a deep breath, and took it off mute. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, and I must warn you I am not alone. If anyone other than Mr. Nash approaches the building I will kill the girl.”
“Understood.” Rapp handed the phone to Hakim and pulled the black mask down over his face.
“Karim, this is your old friend. I see you are still hiding behind the skirts of little girls.”
Rapp turned away from Hakim and said, “Bingo! I repeat . . . Bingo!”
Rapp took the steps three at a time. Reavers was right at his side. “You’ve got my six. We go in on the right side.”
“Tango is down.” Wicker’s voice came over the net. “I repeat, tango is down.”
Wicker’s words were welcome but Rapp didn’t have time to celebrate. There was one bad guy down, but still one to go. They pushed up the last flight of stairs, their footfalls nearly silent. As they neared the big columns, Rapp could hear someone shouting from inside the immense space. He had a moment of indecision. Should he stop and assess the situation or rush headlong into it and keep surprise on his side? He decided on the latter and already had a picture in his mind’s eye. They reached the threshold and Rapp sliced through the farthest opening on the right. His left eye was perched behind his Eotech holographic sight. The red bull’s-eye glowed in the middle of the square aperture.
The picture Rapp had in his mind’s eye was nothing like the one he was confronted with. Standing no more than twenty feet in front of him, Karim had his phone to his ear and was screaming. His gun was in his right hand, and there was no sign of Shannon. They made eye contact and Rapp saw the gun start to come up. He continued to close, and did three quick double taps, all high center mass. All suppressed. Karim tumbled backward, the pistol falling from his hand. Rapp stopped two feet short and kept the gun trained on Karim, who was now sprawled out on his back.
“Shannon?” Rapp yelled.
Off to his left he saw something in the shadows shift. He glanced over and saw Shannon tied up with her back to him, but moving. Rapp looked back down at Karim, who was clutching at his tactical vest. There was no sign of blood. Rapp figured he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Rapp thought about the president and Dickerson and the bullshit show trial that the country would be dragged through. He elevated the thick silencer a few degrees and put Karim’s face in the center of the sight. He was trying to say something, but Rapp didn’t really care. He squeezed the trigger one more time and ended it.
CHAPTER 75
LAKE ANNA, VIRGINIA
THE Bell 430 helicopter floated down out of the night sky. Its front spotlight lit up the grassy field north of the house. In the shadows, just beyond the light, Stan Hurley waited at the edge of the field along with Rapp and a slightly groggy Mike Nash. Dr. Lewis was in the house keeping an eye on Shannon. He’d given her a mild sedative and was making sure there wasn’t something she was afraid to talk about while her dad was in the room.
Rapp turned his back to the rotor wash, while Hurley and Nash simply closed their eyes and lowered the heads. The CIA helicopter set down softly on its three wheels and its rotors began to slow. The portside door opened and Scott Coleman jumped to the ground. He held Jack Nash under the arms and pulled him from the chopper and set him on the ground. Rory followed on his own, jumping from the chopper and landing on both feet. He and Jack saw their dad and broke into a sprint. Maggie was next. Charlie was in her arms wrapped in a blanket and somehow still asleep. Coleman helped her step down and finally Kennedy appeared in the doorway. She said something to the pilots and then exited the bird.
Rapp and Hurley stood by smiling as Nash hugged Rory and Jack. Maggie joined the group and buried her head in her husband’s chest. Nash wrapped his left arm around his wife’s back and placed his right hand on Charlie’s head. They stood there for a long moment and said nothing.
Finally Maggie wiped tears from her eyes and asked, “Where’s Shannon?”
“She’s in the house with Doc,” Nash said. “She’s fine. Minor concussion and a few scratches, but other than that Doc says she’s in good shape.”
“I want to see her.” Maggie turned and saw Hurley. She stepped toward him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for taking care of us, Stan. I had to get out of that house.”
The media had descended on the Nash house. The normally quiet suburban street looked more like a carnival midway, all lit up with news vans, reporters, and cameramen trying to get a piece of the story. When Kennedy got wind of it she sent two Suburbans and a full security detail to the house to extract the family and bring them back to Langley. Knowing they would want to be together, she had the helicopter waiting.
Maggie finally noticed Rapp. She stepped toward him. There was a quizzical look on her face, and for a moment Rapp thought she might slap him. He was prepared to take it. He felt like crap for endangering her family.
Maggie reached up and wrapped her arm around Rapp’s neck, pulling him in for a big hug. “Thank you. Irene told me what you did.”
Rapp kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I put your family in danger.”
She shook her head bravely and wiped more tears from her eyes. “That’s nonsense. You’ve given me my husband back. That man tried to take him from me and you stopped him.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing,” she said. “If you hadn’t intervened, he’d be dead right now, and probably Shannon as well.” She kissed him again on the cheek and said, “Thank you.”
The family shuffled off toward the house. They wanted to be with Shannon. Hurley, Rapp, Coleman, and Kennedy watched them go. When they were far enough away, Kennedy exhaled and said, “I had a nice talk with her on the ride down. She’s a pretty strong woman.”
The three men nodded, not knowing what to say.
Kennedy glanced back at her helicopter. “I have to get back to D.C. The FBI is a little concerned about how this is going to play in the press.”
Rapp shrugged his shoulders. “Let ’em take all the credit. Nobody needs to know it was us.”
“There were a number of witnesses who saw you and Mike. The rumors are flying fast and furious. Art Harris call
ed and said the FBI press office is swamped with calls from reporters wanting to confirm or deny that the two men involved in the takedown were CIA counter-terrorism operatives.”
“I don’t understand the problem,” Rapp said. “The military does this all the time. Delta runs an op and they give the credit to the Rangers or some other outfit.”
“That’s a little different,” Kennedy responded. “They don’t have dozens of cameras and live footage of it.”
“All they have is footage of two men in black hoods and tactical vests. FBI, D.C. Park Police . . . I don’t care who gets the credit.”
“I think we’ll be able to work something out.”
“You can’t do anything about the rumors,” Hurley announced as he lit a cigarette. “People are going to believe what they want to believe. Besides, it’s not the worst thing to have floating around out there. It’s a nice message. You fuck with us and guys in black masks show up and put a bullet in your head. It’ll make the next guy think twice before he volunteers for one of these one-way trips.”
Kennedy thought about it for a moment and said, “Stan, you always have an interesting take on things.” She kissed him on the cheek and said, “I need to get back. Thanks for taking care of them.” She pointed at Rapp and Coleman. “Be available tomorrow. I think some people are going to want to talk to you.”
Kennedy headed for the chopper and the pilots started the engines.
Rapp turned back toward the house and said, “Stan, I think I need a drink.”
“I like the sound of that.”
They started walking back toward the house. “Scott, what’s your poison?”
“Just a beer, Stan.”
“Mitch?”
“Whiskey and beer, please.”
“Cigars?”
“Why not,” Rapp said.
Coleman went with Hurley to help and Rapp headed down to the fire by the lake. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and stars were out. Rapp looked up, found the Big Dipper and the North Star and then Orion, the hunter. Coleman and Hurley returned and they all grabbed a chair. Hurley wanted the full debriefing and Rapp gave it to him in an emotionless voice. Hurley only had a few questions, most of them to do with Max Johnson and Hakim al Harbi.
Coleman argued vehemently that Johnson be not only spared but brought on board as a member of the unit. Rapp and Hurley weren’t so sure about the second part, but they were in agreement that he’d done enough to earn a stay of execution and more than likely an outright pardon. Hakim al Harbi was more complicated. Rapp told Hurley outright that he had no stomach for killing the guy. Coleman had no opinion on the matter.
Hurley looked into the fire and took a sip of his drink. “I need to talk to Doc about him. We need to find out what makes him tick. And we need to catalog his sins. Figure out just what role he played in all this.”
They heard the screen door slam, and a short while later Nash came out of the shadows with more beers. He passed them around and took a chair.
“How’s Shannon?” Hurley asked.
Nash stared blankly into the fire. “I’m not sure. She just fell asleep, but I think Doc slipped her some pills.”
“She’ll be fine,” Hurley announced.
Nash shook his head. “Who knows. I gotta think something like this can really fuck a kid up.”
Rapp, Coleman, and Hurley all looked at each other. Hurley spoke for the group. “Kids are resilient. We’re the ones who don’t do too well with this shit.”
Nash nodded but kept staring into the fire. “I can’t believe I almost lost her.” And with that he suddenly started bawling. He tried to stop it but he couldn’t. The three men didn’t move.
After a minute of it, Hurley announced, “Get it all out. Now’s the time.” He watched him for ten seconds and then said, “And don’t forget it could have been a hell of a lot worse. All things considered . . . you were pretty damn lucky.”
Nash got control of himself and nodded. “You’re right.” He finally looked over at Rapp, who was puffing silently on a cigar. “I’m sorry,” Nash said. “Maggie’s right. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead, and Shannon might be dead as well.”
“Well,” Rapp said, “I’m just glad we could save her. As for your dumb ass . . . I’m not sure it was worth the effort.”
Nash started laughing and then they all started laughing. Nash lit Rapp up with a string of curse words and then said, “Next time you decide to turn me into a poster boy maybe you could check with me.”
“You’re my boss now. I can’t take a piss without consulting you first.” Rapp gave Nash a sarcastic wink.
“Oh . . . God,” Hurley moaned. “I was his boss once. A long time ago. Worst fucking two years of my life.”
“Yeah . . .” Rapp said, “I saved your ungrateful ass one time, too.”
Hurley started spewing insults across the fire at Rapp. The group fell right back into their normal stride. It was as if the pressure of the last week was suddenly behind them and everything was back to normal. They told stories and insulted each other and they all took it for what it was—a sign of acceptance and camaraderie.
Hurley announced that it was getting late. There was one more issue that he wanted to cover, though—Glen Adams and what they were going to do with him. He looked at Nash and said, “Mitch tells me you’re still not certain about a certain traitorous bastard.” Hurley looked over at his barn just in case there was any question about which traitorous bastard he was referring to.
Nash wavered and then said, “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m exactly a paragon of mental stability at the moment.”
“Well . . . all things considered I’d like to make the call.”
“You want me to pass the buck.” Nash shook his head. “Not very noble.”
“Mike,” Rapp said, “you have a great family. For their sake, and yours, I tried to put you on a different path this week. The honorable one. You can’t do both. You can’t be a great father and husband and do the shit we do. Something has to give.”
Nash stared into the fire and thought about the conflict.
Rapp leaned forward and said, “Let us slosh around in the gutter with these guys. You go take care of your family.”
Nash didn’t say anything for a long while and then he nodded as if he’d made up his mind. He stood and tossed his empty beer can in the fire. He watched it turn red hot and begin to crumble. He turned to Rapp and said, “Thanks.”
They watched him walk away into the darkness between the fire and the house.
Rapp looked at Coleman and Hurley, a look of disappointment on his face, and then he heard Nash say, “I’m going to go take care of my family. Good night, guys.”
Vince Flynn, Pursuit of Honor
(Series: Mitch Rapp # 12)
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