Kill Shot

Chapter 33
PARIS, FRANCE

RAPP smiled. Luke was playing his role to perfection. He had his hands stuffed in both pockets of his jacket and every five steps or so he scanned the block to see if there were any signs of danger. It was not the way Rapp would have acted, but then again he'd told Kennedy that he'd been shot. It wasn't a stretch for the men in the van to think that he was a little more jumpy than normal.

Rapp had a pretty good idea what was going on inside the van, and he wouldn't deny that he was taking a certain amount of delight knowing that they were probably falling all over each other trying to figure out what to do. As to who was in the van, he didn't have a clue, and until right now he hadn't really considered the question. There were only a handful of people who had watched him closely enough to be able to tell the difference between him and an impostor. Even so, the street was dark and Luke had the same general build. In these situations they would see what they wanted, and that was Rapp returning to the safe house for something that he needed.

Of all the possible assets, Rob Ridley was probably the one who had the most practical knowledge of how Rapp operated. Kennedy and Hurley knew his movements well enough, but neither of them would be pulling surveillance duty. Hurley was too impatient. He needed to be moving, or at least have the option to move, especially after his abduction in Beirut. The man would never admit it, but there were some psychological scars that he still hadn't dealt with. The most likely option would be Ridley, who specialized in surveillance and advance work. He and his people had done the advance work on the Tarek hit and then vacated the city the day before Rapp had killed the oil minister. Rapp didn't know where they were headed, but Hurley would have had a day and a half to turn them around and get them back into position. It was possible, but Rapp had a feeling it was someone else.

It would all come down to the call he'd made to Kennedy and whether she was able to convince Stansfield that he'd been set up. If she had failed, Rapp had little doubt who was in the van. Hurley would be calling the shots and he would have his pet dog, that a*shole Victor, on duty. Rapp had spent very little time at the farm over the past year, and the year before that they had gone to great lengths to keep his identity a secret from the other visitors. Over that time he'd seen a little over a dozen faces. Men who had returned from operations overseas and guys who were trying to make the team. One of those faces was already gone, killed in Beirut. Rapp didn't like to think about that day. It was too stark a reminder that his life could go the same way in the blink of an eye.

Kennedy had said she was coming to Paris. How that would play out was obvious. Hurley would be pissed, and he'd tell her to go back to Langley and sit behind her desk and do it in very insensitive, colorful language. The only way she could make any headway was with Stansfield calling the shots. That's what it came down to. He was the only man who could rein in Hurley.

Rapp stood behind Greta's shoulder and watched Luke inch closer to the front steps of the apartment. He took a step back and moved to the other side of the window. The van was easy to spot. It was a black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van. Boxy and tall, it offered the men inside room to move around and they were fairly common in most big cities, as workers used them to navigate the narrow, congested streets. What made this one stand out was the roof rack. The rack had a ladder and several tubes that looked like they could contain anything from rolled-up wallpaper to flooring. In truth they were part of a customized surveillance system that concealed cameras, antennas, and directional microphones.

His money was on Victor, but beyond that he had no idea who would be on duty. More than likely they had pulled assets from stations across Europe, although most of those men would be attached to embassies with official covers, and exposing them to someone like Victor would be a big gamble. Rapp put himself in Hurley's shoes and decided he'd never do it. Hurley would grab some of his ex - Special Forces assets, guys who didn't have squeamish stomachs and knew how to keep their mouths shut.

"Greta," Rapp asked as he kept his eyes on the van, "what do you see?"

"The man in the hat. Nothing else."

Rapp stepped back two steps and crossed over to Greta's side of the window. Luke was roughly thirty feet from the front door. Rapp scanned the area beyond to see if there was any movement. There was none, so he went back to the other side of the window to keep an eye on the van. He thought he saw the van rock slightly but it was hard to tell from this distance.

"He's going up the steps," Greta announced.

Rapp didn't bother looking. He was too focused on the van.

"He's inside."

In that moment, it occurred to Rapp that they might be waiting in the apartment. His eyes darted from the van to the second floor across the street. He counted three windows in from the corner. The shades were drawn on both the third and fourth windows. There was no way of telling if anyone was in there. Rapp grew a little tense. If they grabbed him, and interrogated him, they might come to the conclusion that Rapp was nearby watching them. "Greta, remember what I said to you. If I tell you I want you to head to your car, I don't want you to argue with me."

She took her eyes off the building. "But I don't understand why you wouldn't come with me."

"We're not going to argue about this," Rapp said in a firm tone. "I need to know you're going to do exactly what I want you to do when I ask you. Your safety is my first priority. If you're not willing to do what I ask you to do, then you might as well leave right now."

Greta shook her head and frowned. Taking orders was not her strong suit.

Rapp turned his eyes back to the van. Kennedy had told him they had the safe house under surveillance. The guys were either asleep in the van or they had men inside the apartment. If that was the case, Rapp expected to see some lights come on any second. Luke would be in for one hell of a surprise and likely a two- or three-day debriefing where he would literally have the shit scared out of him. Rapp didn't feel good about it, but Luke would survive. His story would check out because Rapp planned on calling Kennedy and telling her what he'd done. They would be pissed that he had exposed a safe house by giving the keys and codes to a drug dealer. Rapp's defense would remain consistent. Someone on their end had betrayed him. He'd been set up, and until he knew who he could trust they would have to excuse his paranoia.

Rapp checked his watch. Luke had gone through the front door nearly forty seconds ago. He looked down the length of the street at the Mercedes van and he finally saw some movement. The van rocked and then a moment later someone was moving up the sidewalk in a hurry. He was crouched down and running. Rapp caught glimpses of the man as he passed in between cars, and then as he drew closer he got a more consistent view.

It was Victor. Even in the poor light of the hazy street lamps he was easy to make out. He was half man, half gorilla, lumbering down the street as if he might run through a brick wall if he needed to. Rapp didn't like Hurley, but he respected the salty bastard. Victor was another matter. Rapp loathed him, couldn't understand why he hadn't been drummed out, and spent a fair amount of time analyzing all the different ways he'd kill him if he was ever given the chance.

Rapp watched him hug the building as he got closer to the front door. The building across the street was a near mirror image of this one. There was a garden level on the main floor and each unit had its own entrance and a small patio that was four feet beneath the sidewalk and fenced off by a black wrought-iron fence and gate. The first floor was elevated above the sidewalk by eight feet, so the front steps were fairly steep and led to a pair of double doors. Victor positioned himself exactly where Rapp expected. He sank into the shadows beside the front stoop. Rapp squinted but it did no good. Victor was dressed in black. He was a shadow among shadows.

Rapp checked the lights in the apartment. They were still off. He looked at his watch. Luke had been in the apartment for close to two minutes. Rapp had timed it in his head. If he did exactly as Rapp ordered, he could be in and out in less than five minutes. Something told Rapp, though, that Luke might take a little extra time to see what else he could take.

"Who is that man?" Greta asked.

"The one I warned you about . . . Victor."

Things settled into a slow pattern as Rapp continued to check the van, Victor's position, and the apartment windows. For four minutes and twenty-seven seconds nothing happened, and then suddenly the moment was upon them. The front door of the apartment building opened and Luke stepped into the night air. He hustled down the steps and turned to the right just as Rapp had instructed. Victor suddenly materialized from the shadows and fell in behind Luke, just four steps behind him. His right hand came up and Rapp immediately recognized the length of black steel in his hand as a pistol with a suppressor attached to the end.

Rapp shook his head and under his breath mumbled, "What a prick."

What happened next was completely unexpected. There was a muzzle flash followed by Luke's entire body being propelled forward for one more step. Then he crashed to the sidewalk face-first.

Greta gasped and covered her mouth.

Rapp blinked just once and reached for his gun. In that split second he realized he had just witnessed what was supposed to be his own murder, and a second after that he realized he had caused the death of a completely innocent man. The realization filled him with embarrassment and rage and the absolute conviction that he would kill Victor.