by Vince Flynn
Brown repeated his question, "And what do you want me to tell him?"
"Nothing," smiled Clark. "At least not tomorrow night. Tell him you need to think about it. Tell him to come back the next night, and you'll have a decision for him."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
Maryland, Wednesday evening
Rapp was ready to go. The cab was waiting in the driveway. He'd already gone out and said hello to the man, telling him he was waiting for his girlfriend to arrive and then they could leave. Anna was late, which was to be expected. As Rapp went over his mental checklist one more time, he decided he might have to implement the thirty-minute rule with her. Yes, he decided it was time. If they needed to be somewhere at 8:00 he'd have to start telling her 7:30. She was thirty minutes late for everything unless it was a live broadcast.
She'd actually held up Air Force One last month for close to fifteen minutes. Jack Warch, the special agent in charge of the Presidential detail, had been kind enough to call Anna on her cell phone and ask her if she was going to make the flight. Anna was stuck in traffic and pleaded forgiveness. The Secret Service agent, used to these flights being delayed, had no problem buying her some time. Besides, they were going to California and would be able to make up any lost time in the air. It helped that Anna Rielly was a favorite of the President. It also helped that Jack Warch and President Hayes owed their lives to Anna Rielly's boyfriend.
Rapp checked his watch more out of a nervous habit than a need to know what the exact time was. They were flying out of Baltimore International in less than two and a half hours. They still had plenty of time, but Rapp didn't like to be rushed when he was sneaking weapons onto a flight. From his vast arsenal, he had decided to bring his Heckler & Koch HK4 pistol. His version was designed to carry the 9-mm short round. Rapp had disassembled the weapon and concealed individual parts within various items in his suitcase.
The people at Langley's Science and Technology division purchased everyday common items like blow dryers, shaving cream cans, alarm clocks, radios and luggage. They then modified the items by creating false or hidden compartments while always maintaining each items ability to perform its task. If a customs officer or border guard plugged in a blow dryer and it didn't work it was a huge red flag. The people from ST were experts in this field. They even went so far as to test everything they designed on state-of-the-art airport x-ray machines. They could tell you the make and model of almost every x-ray machine and metal detector used in every major airport around the world, and more important, they could tell you the best way to pack your suitcase to minimize the risk of an operator discovering an illegal item in your luggage.
Anna would flip if she knew, but such was his life. Traveling the streets of almost any Italian city without a weapon was a risk he did not want to take. The plan was to tell her when they were settled into their hotel in Milan. Telling her before they left might put some undue stress on her when they had to clear customs in Italy. Like most reporters, Anna was a good actor when she was after something, but helping your boyfriend sneak a weapon, a weapon you didn't want him to bring in the first place, into a foreign country that was pushing it. No, Rapp told himself again, not telling her was the right thing to do. Besides, she would be more concerned about the other thing he was sneaking onto the flight.
It had cost him double what he thought it would, but the second he saw it, he knew it was for her. It was classic and simple. A flawless, ideal cut, one carat diamond perched atop a platinum band in a Tiffany setting. She was going to melt when she saw it, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it. The ring was safely tucked away inside a compartment of his leather jacket. On impulse he reached down and ran his finger along the inside of the liner, feeling for the telltale bump. It was still there.
Rapp checked his watch again. Oh, how he wished she would get home. The urgency he felt to get to Italy surprised him a little. He'd been thinking about it all morning. It was the beginning of a new life. This would be the watershed moment for which he'd been secretly yearning.
He heard tires squeal. Rapp looked down the long driveway. The unsettling noise brought a smile to his face. It would be Anna making the turn onto their street. He'd been through all of this before, standing, waiting for her on the front porch, and hoping that she was okay. Hoping that some demon from his past hadn't tracked him down and taken her. Praying that some sicko, who had seen her on TV, hadn't decided that Anna was to be his possession.
Anna laughed it off when he told her she should call if she was going to be late. She was always slightly apologetic, but showed no signs of changing. Her defense was that she was a very busy person whose job made it almost impossible to be punctual. At the time Rapp had been tempted to tell her that was the dumbest excuse he'd ever heard, but over the past year he'd learned to choose his words carefully, or better yet, just keep his mouth shut. Being right wasn't always worth it.
Someday soon he would make her see the need to be on time or at the very least, to call. There were real security reasons involved, and there was his mental health to consider. Some people had overactive imaginations and when mixed with a little paranoia, could lead to real problems. But with Rapp it wasn't imagination; it was reality. He had been on the front lines. He had seen what the enemy was capable of. He had seen them kill innocent women and children without hesitation. As far as Rapp was concerned, this was the major difference between them. In all of his years, in all of the operations he'd conducted, his record was clean. He had yet to kill a noncombatant. He did his killing up close, usually with a knife or a gun and on rare occasions he'd used explosives. He was immensely proud of this, and had come to realize that it was probably the only thing that allowed him to sleep at night.
The tires squealed again, and then Rapp's black Volvo S80 careened onto the driveway. All Rapp could do was smile and shake his head as his future wife sped down the driveway and then skidded to a halt next to the cab. Thank God she's a good driver, he thought. He couldn't be mad at her for being late. He was too excited to start his new life.
Rielly jumped out of the car with a sheepish look on her face. "Sorry I'm late, honey. I got hung up "
Rapp wasn't interested in excuses. He'd heard them all. He just shook his head and smiled. "Your bags are in the cab. Do you need anything from the house?"
With her purse over her shoulder she moved quickly toward the front door. "I'd like to brush my teeth, and take some of this makeup off." Because Rielly often had to give reports from the White House throughout the day, she was stuck wearing a thick layer of makeup for long periods of time. Whenever she came home it was her first order of business to scrub it from her face.
Rapp looked at his watch. "We're late."
"I know." Rielly paused just long enough to give him a quick kiss and then blew past him and into the house. "It'll only take a minute."
As Rapp watched her set her purse down and start up the stairs he mumbled, "More like ten."
Rielly yelled over her shoulder,"I heard that," and continued up the stairs.
A little frustrated, Rapp said, "Well, it's true. Maybe you could reapply it on the way to the airport." Rapp had been here before. It'll take a minute was code for ten to twenty minutes.
She yelled down from the upstairs bathroom, "Don't worry, we've got plenty of time. Flights never leave on schedule anymore." "Is that what you told the President when you held up Air Force One last month?" Rielly didn't know that Rapp knew about her little incident.
She appeared at the top of the stairs with a toothbrush in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other. "Where'd you hear about that?"
"It was in the Washington Times this morning." Rapp said this with a straight face despite the fact that he was making it up. He knew Anna never read the Times due to the fact that she thought it was a biased newspaper. Every time this was brought up, he liked to remind her that the Post wasn't exactly known for its well-balanced staff.
Rielly's little knob chin dropped and she said, "Pl
ease tell me you're kidding."
Rapp smiled. "Okay. I'm kidding."
"Then how in the hell did you know about that?"
"Never mind." Rapp gestured with his hand to get her moving. "Let's go, we're late."
"I'm serious. "Never mind. I have my sources." Rapp turned. "I'm going to put the car into the garage. Hurry up!"
Rielly watched him disappear for a second and then returned to the bathroom. While she loaded up her toothbrush she looked into the mirror and said, "You've got a seven hour flight to get it out of him "With complete confidence that she would succeed, she stuck the toothbrush into her mouth and went to work.
The big American Airlines 747 was parked on the tarmac at BIA. They waited at the gate until all of the passengers had presented their boarding cards, and then they got in line. It was one of Rapp's rules, and of course Anna had wanted to know why. Getting used to the idea that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her, he decided to explain. They were flying in first class. If they had boarded the plane right away, when the first class ticket holders were given the opportunity to settle in, they would have been the center of attention for the other 250 fliers as they waltzed up to the gate. Mitch's way, they waited until the end and slipped onto the flight without anyone paying any attention to them. It was all about keeping a low profile.
Rielly had accepted the reasoning without comment. They sat at the bar and had a beer while the rest of the passengers lined up like cattle and started the boarding process. She thought about Mitch's attention to detail. It permeated everything they did as a couple. There was, of course, the restaurant thing. It was a little irritating at times. He could never sit in the middle of a room. He always had to have his back to a wall, and always upon arriving, excused himself to go to the men's room. At first Rielly didn't notice and then the O'Rourkes, some friends of hers, had pointed it out. Anna had asked Mitch about it, and after some weak attempts at deflecting her queries, he copped to it. It was standard operating procedure, or as Mitch liked to say, SOP. Check the bathrooms, the emergency exits and the basic lay of the land. That way if anything went down you knew what your options were.
There was also the gun thing. At first it didn't bother her too much. Her father and two of her brothers were cops. She grew up with guns around the house, and in fact owned a snub-nosed.38-caliber revolver herself. She kept it locked up, but had the permit to carry it if she wanted to. She usually only did so if she'd received some weird letters or calls from a viewer. But Mitch wouldn't leave the house without a gun. Literally, if he didn't have a gun on him it was within arm's reach. He even mowed the lawn with a gun stuck into the waistband of his shorts. When they went out on the boat he kept a gun in the glove box. There were at least three guns stashed in various places around the house.
She had pressed him on the issue once, hinting that he might be just a little too cautious. He had told her that the only reason he was still alive was because he was so cautious. He had gone on to tell her that if any of those people from his not so distant past ever showed up, she'd be very happy that he was armed. At that point she had thrown a hypothetical at him. What if we get married, and have kids? He thought about it for a moment and told her that some things would have to change. The answer had satisfied her at the time.
Rielly took a sip of her beer and looked at Mitch. Leaning in, she asked in a whisper, "You're not carrying a gun, are you?" Rapp pulled his beer away from his lips and said, "No. Just my love gun."
Rielly laughed and then purred like a cat.
Rapp felt a slight twinge of guilt over his answer. But then again she hadn't asked, are you bringing a gun, she had asked are you carrying one. His gun was nowhere near his person. It was carefully packed away in a half dozen pieces, stored in the bowels of the jumbo jet.
They sipped on their beers for a couple more minutes, and when the line was down to just a few people they picked up their carryon bags and walked hand in hand across the waiting area to the gate. Rapp handed over the first class tickets and they proceeded down the jetway with their boarding cards. When they made the left hand turn for the plane they stopped at the end of the line of backed-up passengers. Rapp held Rielly close and looked into her beautiful green eyes. He could tell by the sparkle in her eye and the grin on her face that she was a little popped up from her one beer. After thirty seconds a man came down the jetway and replaced them as the last in line.
Rielly looked up with a telltale smirk on her face and said a little too loudly, "Maybe he's a spy."
Rapp pulled her head into his chest as she giggled louder and louder. All he could do was shake his head and smile. After she calmed down he said, "Get a hold of yourself or they won't let you on board."
"What are you talking about?" Rielly exaggerated her state of intoxication, slurring her words. "They won't let you get on a plane drunk. Its against FAA rules."
"What if I'm drunk on love?" She closed her eyes pursed her lips for a kiss.
Mitch laughed and gave her what she wanted. After that the line moved quickly, and before long they were settled into their first class seats. Anna was next to the window and Mitch was on the aisle. While the plane pushed away from the gate, they got their reading material together. As they taxied over to one of the main runways, Rapp looked out the window and checked the weather. It was at least another hour before sunset, the temperature was in the fifties, and there was no sign of rain. The takeoff should go smoothly.
Anna started paging through one of her magazines and then stopped. She closed it and looked at Mitch. "You never told me what exactly it is that you have to take care of while we're in Milan."
"Just a little bit of business. Nothing that will take up too much time." Rapp opened his book and hoped that Anna would go back to her magazine. Unfortunately, he knew it was wishful thinking.
"What kind of business?"
"Official business."
In a mocking tone Anna lowered her voice and said, "Top secret business."
"That's right, baby." Rapp winked. "Now why don't you just sit back, look pretty and peruse your fashion magazine? I'll take care of everything else."
Rielly expertly jabbed him in the ribs. "Don't give me that crap. I think you can tell me a little more than, 'official business."
" "No, I can't." Mitch said emphatically. They'd been down this road before, and he was tiring of it. He leaned in close to her ear and said, "There are certain things about my job that I will never be able to tell you. I've been up front about it from the start and you said you could deal with it. Now are you going to abide by that or are you going to change the rules on me?"
He was right, and she knew it, but it still pissed her off. "No, I'm not going to change the rules, but I think there are times where you don't need to be so vague. I mean you get all freaked out when I'm fifteen minutes late, and you expect me to just sit in our hotel room in a foreign city while you run off and take care of official business." Rielly leaned in so close her nose touched his cheek. "I mean for Christ's sake, for all I know the damn CIA is sending you over here to kill someone." Rielly moved away and stubbornly folded her arms across her chest.
Eyeing her with caution, Rapp thought about what she'd just said and then had to admit she had a pretty good point. He owed her a better explanation. "I'm sorry. You're right. I have to meet with someone someone I used to work with."
"Will it be dangerous?"
"No." He shook his head and meant it. He would be very cautious, but in truth he wasn't expecting any trouble.
"Does this person know you're coming?"
"No."
Rielly frowned, not sure that she liked the answer. "Is this person someone you can trust?"
"Yes. Very much so." Rapp's words were sincere. "Don't worry, honey. Everything will go fine. I'll take care of it the first day we're there, and then we'll have the rest of the trip all to ourselves."
The plane stopped for a moment, and then the engines came to life. A few seconds later the big jet
began to roll down the tarmac. Rapp reached over and grabbed Annas hand. He kissed the back of it and said, "I love you." Rielly kissed him on the lips and told him the same. As the plane began to lift off the ground Rapp's thoughts turned to the person he would be meeting in Milan. Donatella Rahn was much more than someone he used to work with. She was someone he used to share his bed with. For reasons that had nothing to do with national security he had decided to keep that a secret from Anna. That was all ancient history. It had nothing to do with the situation at hand. Rapp helped rationalize the omission by telling himself that he had never asked her about her ex-boyfriends. This almost worked until he realized that she, as of yet, hadn't flown three thousand miles to have a secret meeting with one of her former lovers.
Rapp didn't like the way the argument was working out so he pushed it from his mind. In and out, he told himself. No big deal. I'll go to dinner with her, ask her who hired her to kill Peter Cameron, and I'll be done with it. Rapp grimaced as he looked out the window and down at his favorite body of water in the whole world. The Chesapeake Bay slid by, while a large container ship worked its way north toward the port of Baltimore. Rapp knew it wasn't going to be that easy. In his heart of hearts, he honed he was just being his paranoid self. For once he wanted something to be easy. All he wanted was a name. The name of the man who had tried to have him killed in Germany, and then he could make things right and get on with his life.
Anna nestled in and rested her head on his shoulder. Rapp kissed the top of her head and took in the soft fragrance of her light chestnut hair. She was worth seeing this thing through to the end. "He would get the name from Donatella, and he would eliminate the problem. Then they could start their family, and he would feel safer knowing that whoever had tried to kill him in Germany was dead. They could do no harm to his family.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.