“How confidence inspiring,” Donatella said.
The Russian disagreed. “I’ve been involved in a number of these kinds of operations, and acting rashly is a recipe for disaster. Mitch is right to consider every possibility before making a move. Aali Nassar isn’t a Taliban enforcer or suicide bomber. He’s a brilliant man with virtually unlimited resources.”
“So who’s in and who’s out?” Rapp said.
Donatella was the first to speak. “After everything we’ve been through, I’d never abandon you.”
The implication was clear—that he’d abandoned her. And maybe it was true. But that was a reflection for another time.
“Hell, I live for this shit,” Black said with his customary bravado. “I’m in for whatever you figure out.”
Azarov remained silent for a few seconds before speaking. “I like to finish what I start. And, frankly, I’m not sure that Nassar won’t have more questions for me about what happened in Monaco. I’d prefer to see him neutralized.”
Rapp looked over at Claudia.
“You know my answer.”
CHAPTER 39
The White House
Washington, D.C.
U.S.A.
I WANT to be perfectly clear, Irene. You believe that was Mitch in the Monaco video.”
President Joshua Alexander gazed at her over the Resolute Desk. His expression was serious, perhaps even grave, but something in it hinted at fear. As it should.
Irene Kennedy had always liked and respected the man. He was pragmatic, understood the threats facing the country, and listened to advice. When necessary, he was also willing to look the other way. That said, it was her experience that people could change very quickly when their backs were against the wall. It was a transformation that tended to occur even faster in politicians.
“My people put the likelihood at ninety-five percent.”
She herself put it at a hundred, but there was no reason to say that. Alexander was unaware that she knew about his early morning meeting with Mitch Rapp. And while Rapp had said nothing about what had been discussed, he also had done nothing to prevent her from coming to the obvious conclusion.
“What was he doing there, Irene? I was told he left the CIA. Is that not the case? Is he working for you?”
She found this charade a bit insulting and considered telling the president that she was perfectly aware that it was he who had set Rapp on this path. As satisfying as that would be, though, it would also be extraordinarily unwise. As usual, she had no choice but to swallow her anger and play the games that politics required.
“Mitch gave me his resignation and I have not been in contact with him since. To the best of my knowledge, no one at the Agency has.”
“So you don’t know where he is?”
“I have no idea,” she responded honestly.
“Well, that piece of shit Aali Nassar is going to be here in less than two minutes, and he’s not going to be happy with that answer.”
“Mitch Rapp is no longer my concern nor the concern of the Central Intelligence Agency. He’s a private citizen who happened to be in a European establishment when it was attacked by terrorists. I saw nothing in that video to suggest that Mitch—if that’s indeed who it was—did anything criminal. If Director Nassar wants to talk to him, then he’s free to find him and request a meeting.”
“You’re not going to seriously sit there and tell me it was just a coincidence that Mitch was there when those terrorists attacked,” Alexander said.
She just took a sip of her tea.
The enhanced video from Monaco had been three of the most interesting minutes of film she’d ever watched. Kennedy was extremely surprised by the presence of Grisha Azarov, whom everyone had dismissed as the luckiest extraction consultant in history. Seeing him work was quite extraordinary and went a long way to explaining how he had managed to injure Scott Coleman so badly.
Even more shocking had been the presence of Donatella Rahn. She still hadn’t been identified and even the CIA’s analysts were speculating that she was nothing more than an Eastern European prostitute.
And that left the unknown sniper who had been ensconced on the top floor of an apartment to the west. All they had of him was poor security camera footage depicting a man of average height and build wearing a bulky coat, a hat, and large eyeglasses opaque to surveillance equipment. She’d quietly looked into a number of men whom she thought Rapp might have recruited but, to her old friend’s credit, had come up empty. Was it possible that he’d solicited the help of Kent Black? She knew that the former Ranger was selling arms in Africa, but there had never been any reason to keep tabs on him.
“You seem even more guarded than usual, Irene. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Is there something you’re not telling me, Mr. President?”
She regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. The unwavering control that had served her so well in her career was beginning to fail. One of the most courageous, patriotic, and effective American operatives ever born had been put in a position that was likely fatal, and there was very little she could do to change that.
Alexander refused to acknowledge it, but there was only one course this meeting could take. Mitch Rapp, the man who was like a brother to her and who had sacrificed everything for his country, was going to be thrown to the wolves.
“What are you trying to say, Irene?”
She was saved from having to answer by the president’s assistant poking her head in. “Sir? Director Nassar has arrived.”
Alexander stood behind his desk. “Show him in.”
Nassar looked a bit less smug and significantly more tired than the last time they’d met. He shook hands with Alexander but decided to dispense with that pleasantry when turning to face Kennedy. “King Faisal wants to know what your involvement with Mitch Rapp is and what is being done about him.”
“Could you be more specific, Director?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. His involvement with the terrorist attack in Monaco and the kidnapping—perhaps even murder—of Prince Talal bin Musaid.”
She allowed an intentionally unconvincing expression of shock to cross her face. “You’re suggesting the man in that nightclub was Mitch Rapp?”
“There’s videotape!”
“Really? And is that videotape conclusive?” she said, quoting Nassar’s own words when he’d been faced with the existence of photographic evidence that bin Musaid was financing terrorists in Morocco.
“We believe it is,” Nassar said, a brief flash in his eyes registering the insult. “We—”
“Director, why don’t we sit for a moment?” the president interrupted.