American Assassin

Chapter 17
LEWIS made the calls late in the afternoon, after he'd had an hour to put his thoughts and observations down on paper. As darkness approached, they descended one by one on the house by the lake in southern Virginia. Kennedy was the first to arrive, then Deputy Director of Operations Stansfield, and finally Hurley. Stansfield's bodyguards remained on the porch. They were two of his most trusted and knew to be very selective about what they saw, and more important, about what they remembered. Stansfield suggested in his typical quiet way that they all adjourn to the basement. It was not a suggestion. It was an order.

The four of them walked downstairs and proceeded to a free-standing room that sat in the middle of the basement. It served as the surveillance/communications shack for the property. The inside walls and ceiling were covered with an egg-carton-gray foam that absorbed sound. A bank of monitors and two listening stations occupied the wall on the right, and an oval conference table for six sat in the middle. When everyone was seated, Stansfield closed the soundproof door and threw the bolt.

The number-three man at Langley took the chair at the head of the table and loosened his tie. He looked the length of the short table and said, "Doctor."

Lewis was leaning back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of his face. "We've had an interesting development."

"I'd say so," Hurley interrupted, unable to contain himself. "I heard one of my instructors is out of commission for six months. Three titanium pins in his arm. For Christ's sake. He was one of my best." Hurley held up the appropriate number of fingers to punctuate his point. "Three pins."

The doctor's bright blue eyes locked in on Hurley with the kind of all-knowing stare that could only be flashed by a spouse or a therapist. The message was clear. I know you better than you do yourself. Shut up and let me speak.

"Sorry," Hurley apologized halfheartedly.

"Irene's recruit has proven himself quite capable." Lewis directed his comments at Stansfield. "You heard what he did to Stan earlier in the week?"

"No." Stansfield turned his inquisitive gaze on Hurley. "The bruising on your face ... that was caused by this Rapp fellow?"

The swelling was down, and the bright red bruising had turned dark purple with a yellow tinge. Hurley shrugged his shoulders. "I made a mistake. It won't happen again."

"You got thumped by a college kid with no military experience," Kennedy said. "I still can't get over it."

Lewis interceded before Hurley could blow his lid. Looking at Stansfield, he said, "Let me give you the narrative." Lewis explained in detail what had transpired during the opening minutes of Rapp's arrival at the complex. Hurley tried to interrupt twice, but Lewis shut him down with an open palm. Stansfield, for his part, listened in total silence. Kennedy had nothing new to add and knew how Stansfield hated too many people talking, so she kept her information to herself. In situations like this, Hurley was more than capable of scuttling his own ship.

"Now to Victor," Lewis said, turning his gaze from Stansfield to Hurley. "I have made it very clear from the outset that I am not onboard with your methods of deception."

"I know you have," Hurley said, "and in your theoretical world I'm sure your points have merit, but this is where the rubber meets the road. I don't have all day to dick around with these kids. I need to know who has the goods, and the sooner I find out the better."

"And using your system, how many men have you found thus far?" Kennedy asked, unable to resist.

"My concerns," Lewis said forcefully, "are centered on building a relationship of trust, and if we introduce deceit into the training - "

"It's not training," Hurley said with a scowl. "This is selection, and besides, this is what we do for a living. We deceive people. If these kids don't understand that, they have no business signing up with us."

"There is a major difference between deceiving each other and deceiving our enemy. Again, strong relationships are built on trust. We can work on the deception part later."

"This is bullshit," Hurley said defensively. "You two come and go as you please, but I'm the guy down here twenty-four-seven playing nursemaid. I don't pretend to know how to do your jobs ... do me a favor and stop trying to pretend you know how to do mine."

"You are so thin-skinned," Kennedy said with a tone of open contempt.

"Yeah, well, young lady, this is serious shit. It ain't amateur hour. We recruit our candidates from the best of the best and that means Special Forces and Spec Ops guys. It doesn't mean some amateur who doesn't know the right end of a rifle from his ass or how to navigate his way through the woods in the dead of night or a thousand other things."

"Are terrorists living in the woods these days?" Kennedy asked, making it clear she was mocking him. "The last time I checked they were urban dwellers, so I'm not so sure knowing how to start a fire with a knife and belt buckle qualifies you to hunt terrorists."

"Don't talk to me about training. You have no idea what it takes to turn these guys into killers."

"Apparently, you don't either."

"Well, at least I know how to recruit, which is more than I can say for you."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you didn't do your job. I did a little reconnaissance of my own the past few days. Do you know where your boy spent the last few months?"

"He was staying at his mother's house in McLean."

"Yeah and spending his days hanging out at a dojo in Arlington."

"And what, pray tell, would be wrong with that? I told him he would need to be in shape, and it would be a good idea to start taking some judo classes."

"Yeah, well ... I spoke to his sensei."

"You did what?" Kennedy was irked that he had gone behind her back.

"I went in and had a conversation with his sensei. After going a round with him on the mat, I could tell something wasn't right."

Kennedy looked to Stansfield for help. "He had no right to do that. It's my recruit. I have worked almost two years on bringing him in, and I haven't left a single trail. No one in his life knows that we're interested in him."

"And they still don't," Hurley said dismissively.

"Really ... how in hell did you introduce yourself?"

"I told him I was a trainer from Richmond. Said I went a round with this young kid named Rapp and was very impressed. I wanted to ask his sensei what he thought."

"And?" Lewis asked, suddenly very interested.

"The kid doesn't pass the smell test. His sensei says he came in three months ago and claimed he had almost no experience. Within a month and a half he had throttled everybody in the dojo except the sensei."

"Brazilian jujitsu?" Lewis asked.

"Yeah ... how'd you know?"

"I saw him take Victor down today. The style is hard to miss."

"So he comes in here and almost bests me and then he snaps Victor's elbow ... I'm telling you, the kid isn't who he says he is."

Stansfield's patience was wearing thin. "Be more specific."

"I'm not sure, but it doesn't feel right."

"What ... you think he's a plant ... a spy?" Kennedy asked in a mocking tone.

"I'm not sure. I'm just telling you he doesn't pass the smell test. You can't get that good that quick."

Kennedy looked at Stansfield. "Let's cut to the chase. He doesn't like him because he's my recruit." She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "He's a misogynist."

"I don't like him because I don't know who the hell he is. We need to know everything there is to know about these guys before we bring them in. That's why military experience is a must. That way we know exactly what they've been doing for a minimum of four years."

"And how is that working out for us, Stan?" Kennedy shot back. "We don't have a single operative in the pipeline, and we've been at this for almost two years."

"I am well aware that I have failed to produce. Painfully f*cking aware, but that doesn't mean I'm going to rush things and have something this important blow up in our faces."

Lewis, in a neutral tone, asked, "Stan, what is your problem with Rapp?"

He took a while to answer and finally said, "I can't put my finger on it. It's more of a feeling. A bad feeling."

"Do you know what I think it is?" Kennedy asked. "Two things. First ... I think you have major control issues. You can't stand the fact that you weren't involved in recruiting him. And second ... you feel threatened."

"What?" Hurley's face was twisted into a mask of confusion.

"He's you. He's the man you were forty years ago, and it scares the crap out of you."

Hurley shook his head dismissively. "That's bullshit."

"Really ... well I can say the same thing about your gut feeling. It's bullshit. What, do you think the PLO planted him in a D.C. suburb twenty-three years ago, raised him Catholic and sent him off to Syracuse to play lacrosse? Or do you think it was the KGB before the Soviet Union collapsed and now he's a rogue deep cover operative? Ridiculous." Kennedy dismissed the ludicrous idea with a flip of her right hand. "You're clutching at straws."

No one moved or spoke for five seconds, while Kennedy's stinging remarks set in. Lewis finally said, "She has a point." He pushed back his chair and stood. "I'd like to show you something. I sat down and talked with him before all of you arrived. I think you will find this very interesting." Lewis approached the surveillance control board and pressed a few buttons. A black-and-white image of Rapp appeared on the screen. He was sitting in the office on the first floor. Lewis's voice came over the speakers. He was offscreen to the right.

"That was unfortunate, what happened this afternoon."

Rapp sat still for a few seconds and then nodded.

"Do you feel bad at all about what you did to Victor?"

It took him a long time to answer, and then he said, "We're all big boys here."

"So you feel no remorse?"

"I wish it hadn't happened, but Victor isn't exactly the nicest guy."

"I see. Is it possible that you intentionally broke his arm?"

"Intentionally is a strong word. We were sparring and one thing led to another."

"The thing that led to the other was you snapping his arm before he could tap out."

"I'm not sure he would have tapped out."

"You could be kicked out for what happened."

"Why?"

"Sergeant Smith thinks you intentionally broke Victor's arm."

"I don't see how that would be fair. No one said anything about what holds we could use or not use. We were supposed to stay away from the head and the groin. That was it."

"If you intentionally broke another recruit's arm that would be grounds for dismissal."

Rapp looked at the floor for a long moment and then said, "I don't like playing all these games."

"Games?"

"Yeah ... games."

"How do you mean games?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm not sure I do."

"That file on your desk the other day." Rapp pointed to the clear surface. "The file with my name on it."

"What about it?"

"You were testing me."

"Really?"

"Yes," Rapp said in an easy tone. "I've seen the way you monitor what's going on around here. You study everything." Rapp gestured at the desk. "You're not the kind of guy who leaves sensitive files lying around unless there's a reason. I'm sure this place is wired for video and sound." Rapp motioned toward the bookshelf and then the overhead light. "When you asked to see me a few days ago and I was left sitting in here by myself for fifteen minutes, you were probably sitting up in the attic or down in the basement watching me. Testing me to see if I would open the file and read what was in it."

Lewis could be heard clearing his throat and then saying, "Even if that were true, I don't see it excuses your breaking Victor's arm."

"I never said it excused anything. What I said is that you are playing games with us. You leaves files lying around, tell us one set of rules and then let Victor break them. You were in the barn, how was it okay for Victor to punch Fred in the face?"

"We will deal with that separately. This is about what you did."

"I saw the way you reacted when Victor punched Fred in the nose." Rapp paused and looked down at his hands. "Do you know what I think ... I think Victor doesn't fit in."

"How so?"

"Based on what I've seen since I've been here, there are just two logical conclusions where Victor is concerned. Either Victor is a recruit just like the rest of us or he's part of your evaluation process."

"Part of the process?"

"He works for you guys. He's one of the instructors."

"And why would we do that?"

"So you could get a closer look at us. You put Victor in with us, and his job is to tempt us into making mistakes. Ask us who we are and where we're from. Try to get guys to screw up so you can get rid of the guys who don't have the discipline."

"Interesting."

"Either way it isn't good. If I understand this program correctly, Victor is not the kind of guy you're looking for. So if he is a recruit, and you guys can't see that, I'm not sure I want to work for people who can't grasp the obvious."

"And if he is one of the instructors?"

"It's a pretty f*cked up way to train disciplined men."

"Let's assume you're correct for a second. Knowing all of that ... you decided to break his arm."

Rapp shook his head. "I had my suspicions before, but I wasn't sure. After I broke his arm, I saw the way you and the other instructors reacted, and I pretty much knew he was one of you."

There was a good five seconds of silence and then Lewis asked, "Do you think you have a good moral compass?"

Rapp let out a small laugh. "Here we go with your vague questions."

"I know, but please try to answer this one."

"You mean do I understand the difference between right and wrong?"

"Yes."

Rapp hesitated. "I would say pretty much yes."

"But?"

"Here ... at this place ... it seems like that line keeps getting moved."

"Can you give me an example."

"That angry old cuss ... the one my recruiter warned my about ... well, I'm not here five minutes and the two of us end up in the barn ... He's telling me to quit and save all of us the effort. I tell him no and suggest we should find out if I have what it takes. He very clearly tells me that the head and groin are off limits while we spar. We lock horns and twenty seconds into it I have him beat. He was about two seconds from blacking out when he grabbed my nuts and practically turned me into a eunuch. He never said anything to me about it. In fact I haven't seen him since. Then you have Victor running around here breaking every rule he wants while the instructors are all over the rest of us. Again, we go in to spar today and the instructors clearly tell us the head and groin are off limits, and what does Victor do ... Fred is within seconds of beating him and Victor punches him square in the face. I saw the look on your face, but the other two didn't say boo. It's screwy. I don't know how you expect the rest of us to follow any rules. And here I sit ... technically I didn't do anything wrong, and I'm being threatened with the boot."

"I didn't threaten you."

"You said Sergeant Smith thinks I should get the boot. I'd say that's a threat."

Lewis hit the stop button and turned to face Hurley. With arms folded, he said, "That was one of the more difficult sessions I've conducted. Do you know why?"

Hurley shook his head.

"Because I agreed with virtually everything he said."