Kill Shot

Chapter 24
PARIS, FRANCE

THE plates had been fairly easy to find. There was a big underground car park a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower. Rapp went to the third subfloor and found a sedan in a nice dark corner. He quickly unscrewed the front and rear plates and then headed for the fourth subfloor. The private vehicle plates started with a string of four numbers followed by two letters and then two numbers. It took him a few minutes to find a vehicle that had plates that matched the first two numbers. Most people didn't know their tag number, but as a precaution, it was better to get the first number or two right. People tended to ignore what looked familiar. He popped the plates off and then quickly installed the plates he'd taken from the first car. It was standard tradecraft.

The owner of the first car would soon notice that his plates had been lifted because there would be a blank space where he was accustomed to seeing a plate. He would then report them stolen. Paris was a big city with serious crime. Stolen license plates were not high on the list of things to track down, but nonetheless, Rapp wanted some separation in case luck turned against him. It might be months before the man or woman who owned the second car was pulled over for having stolen plates. He or she would then realize that the plates were stolen and report them as such. By then, Rapp and Greta would be long gone. Greta's silver A4 Audi was not the problem. It was the Swiss plates that drew too much attention. If they had to flee, they didn't need an innocent bystander giving her license tag to a police officer, and they certainly didn't want Hurley to see them.

Rapp arrived back at the hotel with his shoulder feeling marginally better and his mind satisfied that they were ready for tonight. Greta was waiting for him in the room and looking a bit nervous despite her effort to seem otherwise. She wanted to know what had taken so long, and he told her about the license plates and a few other seemingly meaningless tasks that he'd performed. Before she got on a roll he turned the tables and started asking her questions about her afternoon. While he listened, he emptied the contents of one of his shopping bags onto the bed. There was a sewing kit, a pair of jeans, a new jacket, and some other items. Rapp laid the jeans on the bed and retrieved his silenced Glock from the back of his waistband. Greta stopped talking at the sight of the gun. Rapp placed it over the left thigh of the jeans, grabbed a marker, and began to make an outline.

"Did you try on the wig?"

Greta ignored him. "What are you doing?"

"My shoulder holster is rigged for a lefty and my left hand isn't much use right now. I need to make a holster for my gun. Keeping it stuffed in the back of my pants isn't the best move."

"Why . . . because you might shoot yourself?"

"No, it's not very comfortable and not very easy to draw when you need it."

She nodded while she watched him take a pair of scissors to the new jeans.

When Rapp had his hunk of fabric he placed the new black denim jacket on the bed and opened it to reveal the inside front left side. He set the gun down and then laid the jean patch over it until he had the angle right. He pinned the fabric to the flannel liner and then got out a needle and thread.

"I didn't know you knew how to sew."

Rapp gave her a lopsided grin. "It's one of my many talents. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "Just tired."

Rapp plunged the needle through the denim and the flannel and then brought it back up before he pierced the denim on the outside of the jacket. "Why don't you try the wig on for me? We don't want any surprises tonight."

Greta wanted to ask him why he needed to bring a gun if there was no risk, but she knew it was a stupid question. His whole life was a risk, and she'd been trying to ignore that fact for as long as she'd known him. She grabbed her shopping bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She took her ponytail and twisted it into a bun and then carefully placed the wig over her blond hair. After tugging the left side down and then the right, she patted the top and shook it out. It was fine, but she didn't like the fact that she was looking at a stranger.

Rapp heard the door open and looked up from his needle and thread. The black hair ran several inches past her shoulders. Her perfect face was framed by black bangs that stopped an inch above her eyebrows. Rapp didn't realize it, but his mouth was hanging open.

"What do you think?" Greta asked.

"I think I'm horny."

"Not funny."

"I'm not trying to be." Rapp set the jacket on the bed and stood. He walked over to Greta, stopping only a foot away. She looked at him for a second and then protectively folded her arms across her chest and looked across the room at the blank wall. Her body language was clear enough, but Rapp was not so easily deterred. He gently placed his right hand on her chin and turned her face toward his. "I'm sorry I got you involved in this. Maybe it would be better if you went back to Zurich. I'll do what I need to do and when things have settled down I'll come see you."

"And if things don't settle down?"

Then I'll probably be dead, he thought, but he didn't dare say it. "They will. I'm good at my job, honey. Trust me when I tell you these guys have more to fear than I do."

She shook her head and her eyes began to fill with tears. "You were almost killed the other night. If that bullet had been just a few inches to the right you would have bled to death. As it was you almost fell to your death. I just don't understand why you can't leave with me right now. Walk away from this insanity."

"This isn't the type of job you just quit. You're going to have to trust me on this, Greta, and if you can't then you should head back to Zurich."

"Is that what you want me to do?" The first tear began to roll down her left cheek.

Rapp didn't like to see her like this. He wiped the tear away with his thumb. "I want you to be safe and the safest place for you is definitely not with me, but there's another part of me . . ." Rapp's voice trailed off.

"What?"

"There's another part of me that can't bear the thought of never seeing you again."

More tears fell. "It doesn't have to be that way. All you have to do is . . ."

"Walk away." Rapp shook his head. "It's not going to happen, darling. I need to see this thing through, and then we can talk about it."

Greta reached up and grabbed his face with both hands. "I love you."

Rapp smiled. "I love you, too." He bent down and kissed her. His right hand left her chin and found the small of her back, pulling her in tight. Their kisses became deeper and more passionate. Rapp's breathing grew heavier and he slid his hand down to her perfect little ass.

Greta moaned. She knew what he wanted and she wanted it every bit as badly. She missed him and wanted nothing more than to lie in his arms and spend the rest of the weekend in bed. But she pushed herself back a few inches and asked, "What about your shoulder?"

Pulling her close, Rapp whispered in her ear, "We'll just have to be careful."

Greta started unbuttoning his shirt.

Rapp hooked his thumb under her sweater and slid it around her hip to the front of her jeans. He found the top button and with his thumb and forefinger he popped the button open. It was suddenly as if the starter had fired the gun. They began tearing each other's clothes off, stopping only to help the other with a particularly stubborn garment. Shirts, pants, sweater, socks, and shoes flew in every direction until Rapp was left in his white boxers and Greta in her sheer black bra and thong. Other than the bullet hole in Rapp's shoulder and his bruising, they were the picture of perfection. He was hard and chiseled, every muscle defined and ripped tight. She was lithe and shapely in all the right places and her skin was as soft as anything he'd ever felt.

Greta pushed him back onto the bed, where he sat looking up at her, his hands on her hips. Greta grabbed his face and said, "I'm not wearing the wig."

Rapp wasn't going to deny that the wig was a turn-on, but Greta was so beautiful she could have been bald and she still would still have driven him nuts. "You don't have to wear the wig."

Greta smiled, pushed him onto his back, and climbed on top of him. She reached up and pulled the wig off with one hand while she undid her blond hair with the other. A gentle shake of the head and her hair fell to her shoulders. "Just sit back and relax. I'll take care of everything."

Rapp smiled, closed his eyes, and for the first time in days his mind was clear of thoughts of retribution and murder.