Separation of Power

by Vince Flynn

  "What do you mean?" Her eyes were getting glassy.

  "Who hired you, Donny?"

  "Oh we're back to that again."

  "Yep." Rapp grabbed one of the towels and started wiping the blood away. "Who hired you, Donny?"

  "Oh Mitch, I'm in a lot of trouble."

  "I can help. I promise you I'll protect you." Rapp placed one of the towels on the couch. "Here lie down." He gently lowered her onto the towel. He began cleaning the wound. "Whatever kind of trouble you're in, I promise I can help you get out of it." Rapp doused the wound with iodine. Thanks to the morphine, Donatella never felt the sting.

  "You have to promise me, Mitchell. You have to promise me that no matter how bad this gets you'll stand by me." Rapp tore open a packet of coagulant powder and sprinkled as much of it into the wound as possible. "Donny, do you trust me?" He looked into her beautiful brown eyes.

  Donatella blinked. "Yes, but I'm warning you this is going to get very ugly."

  Rapp shrugged and began packing gauze into the bullet hole. "It can't be any worse than some of the crap we've already been through."

  "Oh, yes it can. You have to promise me that you won't leave my side until I'm safe. You have to take me to America." After thinking about it Rapp said, "That shouldn't be a problem."

  He finished packing the wound and applied a field dressing to the front of her shoulder. Gently, he rolled her onto her side and started cleaning the entry wound. "I'm waiting, Donny."

  Donatella was tired. Too tired to continue the fight. She owed much to Ben Freidman, but if he'd sent these goons to kill her, she owed him no more. She had neither the strength nor the assets to fight him on her own, and any hope of going to him and proving her loyalty was childish. Ben Freidman was a ruthless man who would do anything to save his own ass.

  Donatella sighed and said, "It was Ben Freidman."

  Rapp let her roll onto her back. He had to see her face. "You mean to tell me Ben Freidman, the head of Mossad ordered you to kill Peter Cameron?"

  "Yes."

  "Holy shit," muttered Rapp. He pushed Donatella back onto her side, and went back to work on the wound. He and Kennedy had ruled the Israelis out. As far as they could tell, there was no motive for them to try and kill Rapp. They must have missed something. Those in the know around Washington knew that no group was better at penetrating U. S. intelligence assets than Israel. In many ways they were America 's most ungrateful ally, but they almost always worked toward the same goal when it came to counterterrorism.

  "Was Cameron an agent for Mossad?"

  "I have no idea."

  "Then why would Freidman want him dead?"

  "I don't know. You'll have to ask the person who hired us."

  "What do you mean, 'hired you?" You said Freidman ordered the hit."

  "I'm free-lance now, but Freidman still handles my contracts. He sets everything up, takes care of the money and keeps a third of it."

  "Cheap bastard. So technically Mossad has nothing to do with this."

  "No. We're completely separate"

  "Donny, I don't think you're very separate when you were trained by them, used to work for them and Freidman is the current director general."

  "Mitchell, I'm telling you Mossad had nothing to do with this. Someone approached Ben with a rush job, and they were willing to pay a lot of money to have Cameron taken care of quickly."

  "How much?"

  "Half-a-million."

  Rapp stopped what he was doing momentarily. Half-a-million bucks was a lot of money for a contract on a former civil servant. "Did you get the money?"

  "Yes"

  Rapp placed a field dressing on her back and then gave her a shot of penicillin. "How do you feel?"

  "Fine." She smiled crookedly "I don't feel a thing." After helping her sit up, Rapp asked, "Do you think you can walk?"

  "At your service."

  "All right. I'm going to get you a new shirt from your room, and then we need to get out of here." Rapp stood. "Do you still have a bag packed?"

  "Of course. Bedroom closet, bottom right side."

  "If you can think of anything else, now's the time. You might not be back here for a while." Rapp hurried into the bedroom and reappeared less than a minute later with a bag over his shoulder, and a blouse and black sweater in hand.

  Donatella looked at the dead bodies on the floor. "What are we going to do about these guys?"

  "I'll make a call and have it taken care of."

  Rapp helped Donatella change into her new blouse and sweater and then helped her put on her coat. He threw some of the medical supplies into the bag and grabbed her pistol from the floor. After finding her purse, he put in a fresh magazine and gave her the gun. Rapp grabbed Donatella with one hand and threw the bag over his shoulder. They left the apartment, locked the door and took the elevator down to the first floor. As they went out into the cool night, Rapp scanned the street for danger. They headed toward the hotel and he briefly wondered how he would explain Donatella to Anna. He tried to tell himself that she'd understand, but something told him it was wishful thinking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

  Donatella wasn't saying much. Rapp had her gripped firmly under her good arm. He would have liked it if they could have walked a little faster, but at least he didn't have to carry her. Rapp wasn't too sure how long she'd last. She'd lost a fair amount of blood. There was no way around the problem; that blood needed to be replaced. They could worry about the wound and possible infection later, but for now he needed to get her stabilized. Fortunately, the streets were not very crowded. If there were any more trouble out there he'd stand a good chance of seeing it coming.

  The worry that more Mossad agents might be lurking in the shadows had kept him from using his phone. He had to keep one hand on Donatella and the other on his gun. Conversely though, he needed to alert Kennedy. He needed to tell her what he'd found out, and if there were more Mossad agents about there was a strong case to make that he should call Kennedy immediately and tell her what he'd discovered. If he and Donatella went down in a hail of bullets Kennedy would never discover the truth.

  Rapp decided the risk was worth taking. At the next corner he stopped and leaned Donatella against a building. "Hold tight for a second."

  He released the grip of his pistol and grabbed his earpiece and phone. In a perfect world he would have preferred a more secure form of communication, but his digital satellite phone would have to do. He'd been told the phone was secure, but he knew better. There was very little the National Security Agency couldn't pick up if they put their minds to it. What he had to say was for Kennedy's ears only. Yes, the NSA was supposedly on his team, but they had their own problems just like the CIA had theirs, and unfortunately in this particular case Ben Freidman had been very good at cultivating agents within Washington 's

  various intelligence agencies.

  Security be damned, he had to make the call. He would have to use innuendo and personal information to communicate the message. Rapp punched in a special number, one that he'd used very rarely over the last ten years. As it rang, he grabbed Donatella by the arm and they started walking again.

  A man answered on the other end with a no-nonsense tone. "State your business."

  "This is an alpha priority call. I need to speak with the DCI

  immediately."

  "Are you on a secure line?"

  "No."

  "I have your number. Hang up and stay off the line." Rapp the end button on the phone and turned to check the street behind him. Two men had appeared out of nowhere and they were moving fast. Rapp squeezed Donatella's arm and whispered, "Look sharp. We might have company."

  Situation Room, Thursday afternoon

  The President liked Colonel Grays plan, and he liked it even more after Kennedy came up with the idea of bringing back one of the nukes. It was not without great risk, however. Launching cruise missiles was one thing. Anybody with or without moral character, anybody with or without some intestinal fort
itude could give the order to send in the cruise missiles. It did not test a leader's skills one iota. Sending in the planes was the next level and involved some real risk on America 's part. The last thing anybody wanted to see was an American airman on Iraqi TV. Putting troops on the ground, though, that was some serious business. Especially sending them into Baghdad.

  The President eyed Colonel Gray. "Do you know where you'd land the helicopters?" Gray produced a map and walked it down to the President. Standing over his left shoulder he said, "Right here, forty-eight miles southwest of Baghdad. We know this area is deserted."

  "Why is it deserted?"

  "See this building right here?" Gray stabbed his index finger at the photo.

  "Yes."

  "It used to be a chemical weapons factory. We bombed it, and now the area is under quarantine." Hayes looked surprised and asked, "You're going to send your men into an area that's under quarantine?"

  "We bombed it eight years ago, sir. We've sent people back into the area and had the soil and air tested. It's safe"

  The President was tempted to ask when this was done, but instead accepted the colonel's answer. "Is there anything else in the area we need to worry about?"

  "Just the main road between Al Musaiyih and Baghdad." Gray again pointed out the spot with his finger. There's a secondary road right here, that leads to an abandoned chemical factory."

  "So you'll use the area to unload the cars. "The President studied the photograph. "What if you get there and it's occupied?"

  "Then we move onto our secondary landing area here." Gray pointed out the next spot.

  "Sounds complicated. Colonel."

  "This isn't the part that worries me, sir."

  "What is?"

  " Baghdad, sir. I don't have anybody who's ever set foot in the city. I'd like to find someone who knows their way around, someone who can get into the city before the op and check things out. Someone who can meet my team there and lead them to the target and back out of the city"

  "Do you have anybody in mind?"

  "I do, actually." Gray looked at Kennedy. "There's a certain individual who I've worked with from time to time who knows his way around this part of the world very well. We could really use his help."

  The President looked at Kennedy. "Who is he talking about?"

  " Iron Man. "

  "That might be a problem," replied the President.

  "Why?" asked a disappointed Colonel Gray.

  "Iron Man is in the process of, how should we say this," the President looked to Kennedy, who finished the sentence.

  "He's retiring from the field."

  Instead of showing disappointment, a sly grin spread across the Delta Force commander's face. "Guys like Iron Man don't retire. Give me five minutes with him, and he'll be begging me to go on this op."

  The President folded his arms across his chest and said, "I hope you're right, Colonel."

  As General Flood began to reiterate his position on the air strikes, Kennedy's digital phone beeped. She turned away from the group and answered the call. She listened for only a few seconds, ended the call and abruptly stood. There was a secure phone in the Situation Room but she didn't want to talk in front of the others. "Excuse me, Mr. President, but there's something I have to take care of." The President consented with a curt nod and Kennedy quickly left the room in search of a secure phone with some privacy.

  At the next corner Rapp took a right turn and pushed Donatella into the first storefront he could find. He drew his weapon and waited for the two men to round the corner. Several seconds later they appeared but continued straight instead of turning. Rapp watched them cross the street and disappear. It was probably a false alarm.

  The ringing of his phone caused him to jump slightly. He pressed the call button and said, "Hello."

  "It's me. What's up?"

  "We've got some big stuff happening. You know that hunch we had about my old friend?"

  "Yes"

  "We were right."

  "Who was she working for?"

  "Her old employer."

  There was a pause before Kennedy replied. "Say that again."

  "Do you remember who hired her originally?"

  "Yes"

  Rapp looked up and down the street. "They had some type of a free-lance arrangement. He set up the contracts, and she did the work."

  "Are you talking about my counterpart over there?" Rapp could tell Kennedy was having a hard time believing this. "That's correct."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, and there's more, but we need to talk in person." Rapp looked at Donatella. Her eyes were closed, and she was leaning against the glass door. He was losing her. "I need a place cleaned up. Do you understand?"

  "I think so"

  "And I need a doc."

  "For you There was concern in Kennedy's voice.

  "No, for someone else."

  "Anna? "The concern grew.

  "No, the other person we were talking about."

  "How serious?"

  "She'll be all right, but someone needs to look at her in the next hour or so."

  "I can take care of that."

  There was a moment of hesitation before Rapp spoke again. "I need to be brought in." He wasn't used to asking for help in this way.

  "I can call the office over there and have it taken care of immediately."

  "Be careful who you choose, and I don't want to be taken back to the office. Do you understand?"

  "Yes." Rapp was telling her he didn't want to be taken to the embassy. "Where will you be?" she asked.

  "Do you remember where I'm staying?"

  "Yes."

  "That's where I'll be."

  "All right. And by the way, something has come up on this end. We need to get you back here immediately."

  "That's probably for the best, but the travel arrangements need to be very private and I'll have company."

  "I understand. I'll get to work on the other stuff first and call you back in fifteen minutes."

  "All right." Rapp patted Donatella on the cheek to see if she'd open her eyes, and she did. He grabbed her under the arm again and they headed off for the hotel.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

  Rielly was at her wit's end. Her third vodka tonic had been consumed and she'd switched to water. She'd gone from concern to anger, back to concern and then back to anger. That's where she was now, her fertile imagination playing out all of the possibilities as to why Mitch was late. None of the scenarios were good. It was in this moment of despair that she made up her mind. She loved him too much to just walk away, but if she was going to marry him some changes would have to be made.

  No longer did she think it was good idea for him to take the job in the CIA's Counterterrorism Center. He needed to sever all ties with that godforsaken place. If they were going to get married and have children he would have to take a normal job like normal people. Rielly made up her mind. She didn't like giving ultimatums, but she was going to. It was worth it. She couldn't live the rest of her life in fear that every time her husband was late something terrible had happened.

  She was pulled from her moment of decisiveness by a sound at the door. She did not leap to her feet. She kept her cool, and calmed herself for the ensuing battle. When the door opened she stared in utter confusion at the sight of her boyfriend entering the room with an extremely attractive woman on his arm. She could tell from the look on Mitch's face that something was not right.

  Rapp closed the door, turned the deadbolt and latched the chain. He continued past Rielly and into the bedroom. "Anna, I need your help." He set Donatella on the bed and moved immediately to the French doors that looked down onto the inner courtyard. Rapp shut and locked the doors and drew the curtains. He turned to find Rielly standing in the doorway, arms folded, in her defiant pose.

  Rapp moved back toward the bed saying, "Honey, I'm sorry I'm late, but something came up." He bent over Donatella and forced open her eyelids. Her pupils were dilated and her skin
was getting clammy. In Italian he asked her how she felt. Donatella told him she was tired.

  "What in the hell is going on, and who the hell is this?" From where Anna was standing it looked like Mitch had brought home an inebriated whore.

  Before Rapp could answer Donatella blurted out, in English, a response to the second part of Rielly's question. "I am his lover."

  "What?" snarled Anna.

  Rapp grimaced and then began shaking his head as he went toward his girlfriend. "That's not what this is all about."

  Anna seized on the fact that he didn't confirm or deny the woman's claim. "How well do you know this woman?"

  He put his hands up in an effort to calm Anna. "Very well, but that's not what this is about."

  "Very well," spat Rielly "What in the hell does 'very well' mean?"

  "We had," Donatella slurred her words, "wild and passionate sex for many years."

  Rapp cringed and waved his hands back and forth. "Don't listen to her."

  Anna's skin was flushed with anger. She yelled, "Excuse me, but I was under the impression that you were going to take care of some business, and now you show up two hours late with this drunken tramp! I think you have some explaining to do!"

  Rapp grabbed Anna by the shoulders. "Lower your voice."

  She tried to break free from his grip, but couldn't. "Let go of me."

  Rapp held her tight. "Anna, she isn't drunk. She's been shot. She's on morphine, and I think she's slipping into shock, so if it's okay with you I'd like to discuss this later." Rapp didn't wait for an answer. He released Anna and walked into the living room. He opened the mini bar and grabbed a bag of cookies and a bottle of water. He came back to the bed and propped Donatella up against the headboard. "Here." Rapp held the bottle of water to Donatella's lips. "I don't know how long it'll be until a doctor gets here." She drank half of the bottle and then Rapp handed her a cookie. When she was done with the cookie she drank the rest of the water. Rapp laid her down on the bed and shoved some pillows under her legs to get her feet elevated. He covered her with a blanket and checked her eyes again. Hovering above her face he whispered, "Everything is going to be fine. I want you to just lie here and rest. No more talking. Just rest."