by Vince Flynn
“Wait for us, by the elevators,” Rapp said.
Five seconds later the door opened and Rapp and Coleman charged out. They met Sarah halfway down the hall and huddled.
“We go in fast. I’m first, Scott, you’re second, and Sarah, I want you to stay by the door. You’re silenced, right?”
“Yes.”
“Stay low. I don’t want any errant shots passing through a wall and hitting one of us. If we find someone in the outer office and they don’t do anything stupid, Scott and I will go right past them and it’s up to you to secure them. If the guy doesn’t do exactly as you say, shoot him.” Rapp looked into her eyes to see if this would be a problem. “Are you okay with that?”
She nodded, but then said, “Why don’t we get a fiber optic up here and have a peek under the door?”
Rapp shook his head.
“She’s right, Mitch,” Coleman said. “It’ll take five minutes tops.”
“I don’t want to waste five minutes, and we don’t need to make this complicated. We move fast and this whole thing is over in five seconds not five minutes. Shoot anyone except the girl and the big guy.”
“Fine.”
Rapp started down the hall and turned right at the end. Rapp was picturing the layout in his head. There would be a small reception area and then either a door straight ahead, or on the right or left that would lead to Abel’s office. When he was five paces away from the door his left hand slid around and underneath his jacket. His fingers found the hilt of the 9mm Glock and drew it from his waistband. With the silencer attached it was a long draw. Rapp stopped just short of the door and looked over his shoulder to make sure Coleman and Sarah were with him. He held up his right hand and then leaned forward and placed it on the doorknob.
Everything stopped for that instant. Rapp closed his eyes, dropped into a slight crouch, took one more deep breath, and then twisted the knob while leaning into the door with his left shoulder. He did it in one smooth motion with his gun extended. He found himself standing in an outer office that was approximately ten feet wide by fifteen feet long. It had a desk on the right, a couch on the left, and a door straight ahead. Rapp could hear hushed, male voices from the other room. He crept slowly across the room and then he heard something said in Arabic. He slowed for a second and leaned one way and then the other to see if he could tell where they were. He told himself this was no time to stop. They wouldn’t have their guns drawn and if they did, they would be at their side.
Rapp charged into the room, checking his left quickly and then sweeping to his right. The three of them were standing behind a large desk. A section of the bookcase was pulled out and behind it was a gray steel wall safe. None of them bothered to turn around so Rapp said, “Hey, guys.”
They all flinched in surprise, including the girl. Rapp’s eyes checked the hands of each man in less than a second. He saw one gun, the man on the far right, and that was where Rapp directed his aim. He was just about to say “Don’t even think about it” when the man moved. The gun was resting flat against his thigh. Rapp was looking him in the eye, but he saw the movement. The gun started to come up. It never got above his waist. Rapp squeezed the trigger and drilled the man right between the eyes. His head snapped back against the bookcase and he crumpled to the ground.
Coleman was already in the room, his Taser up and ready. He took aim at the man on the far right and pulled the trigger. A pair of fishhooks shot out from the end of the weapon and attached themselves to the man’s chest. Twenty thousand volts of electricity shot through the man’s body and he did the herky-jerky for a second and then collapsed to his knees, his face twisted in pain. Through the connecting wires Coleman hit him with another charge, and the man fell facedown on the rug, unable to move.
Both Rapp and Coleman took aim at the taller man while Sarah closed the door to the hallway.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Even as Rapp said it he knew they had a problem. The woman was standing too close to the man. Rapp could have shot him easily, but he wanted him alive. The man stepped quickly to the side and put the woman between them. He grabbed her by the throat with his right hand and the hair with his left.
“Drop your weapons.”
“Or what?” Rapp said.
“I’ll crush her throat.”
Rapp watched as the man increased pressure and the woman’s eyes began to bug out of her head. Rapp assessed his options. The guy had himself almost completely concealed behind the woman. His eyes danced around the periphery of the silhouette and he found his spot. Rapp dropped his muzzle three inches and squeezed the trigger.
The 9mm round hit him in the right elbow and shattered the socket. The response was instantaneous and gratifying. His right hand fell limply to his side, and his left hand released the woman’s hair. The man’s brain was on override, and his left hand came across his chest to aid his semi-attached right forearm. At the same time the woman doubled over on the desk gasping for air. That was when the fishhooks sunk into his chest and he was hit with the burning electrical charge.
76
ZURICH, SWITZERLAND
A bel stepped off the train, covered his mouth with a handkerchief, and thanked a God he didn’t believe in for the formation of the European Union. Gone were the days of customs and immigration checkpoints at every border and port of entry. Now they were all one big happy family and they could pass freely from one country to the next without going through any hassle. This all suited Abel’s new lifestyle very well. He’d taken the train from Venice to Milan where he spent the night in a completely forgettable hotel near the train station. He’d dined by himself at a small café. Gone were the expensive wine and food and hotels. If Rashid didn’t come through with the money by noon all of his hard work, and this entire gamble, would be for nothing.
He’d taken the first express train north in the morning. Fortunately it was far nicer than the run-down, soiled Ferrovie dello Stato train he’d taken from Venice. They made one stop at Chiaso and then crossed the border. The train continued on its way, rumbling through the beautiful countryside all morning long, winding its way north, coming out of the mountains and making a straight run for Zurich. Abel devoured five separate newspapers looking for information on Saeed’s death. All of the articles were thin on facts. It was too early to know for sure what had happened, but Abel knew it had been Rapp.
The train pulled into Zurich a few minutes before noon. His eyeglasses were in his pocket and his handkerchief covered his face as he passed under a tinted security camera pod. Abel walked briskly with his medium-sized wheeled suitcase rolling behind him. He did not go straight for the taxi line. He crossed the street and walked south down Bahnhofstrasse toward the lake. Abel knew the city as well as any in the world. He kept an apartment here that doubled as an office. He wouldn’t be going anywhere near the place, though.
After a brisk ten-minute walk he was in the heart of one of the world’s most upscale shopping districts. Abel turned east and took one of the low-slung bridges across the Limmat. He found a bench on the east bank and turned on his PDA. While he waited for the color screen to come to life he glanced up at the sky. It was a blanket of gray. No clouds, just flat gray blotting out the warm sun. A cool gust of wind kicked off the river and Abel turned up the collar of his trench coat.
The screen sprang to life and the tiny speaker announced that the device was ready with a few musical notes. Abel’s thumbs began working furiously. He found the bank’s Web site, entered his account number, and passed through three separate security portals until the account balance appeared on the screen. Abel paused, frowned, and then swore. The amount in the account was one million dollars. Not eleven.
Abel stood, took several laps around the park bench, and then sat back down and typed out the instructions to his banker. He wanted the money moved out of the account before he made his next call. He sent the instructions with all the proper passwords and then logged off. He called Rashid’s office. The prince was not in, but he w
as expecting the call. The assistant gave Abel a number to dial. Abel hung up without thanking the man and turned off his phone. He wondered if this was some kind of a trap. He decided to use a pay phone to make the call.
Half a block away he found one and punched in his calling card number followed by the new number. After a series of whirs and clicks a man answered on the other end.
“Prince Muhammad, now.”
“May I ask who is calling?”
“Just put him on the phone,” Abel snapped. He looked over both shoulders, up and down the riverbank, and counted the seconds.
“Erich?” the prince asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Vienna,” he lied. “Where are you?”
“Southern Spain.”
Abel shook his head. Rashid loved to talk about Spain and how someday again it would be Muslim. “I just checked the account. You are ten million dollars short.”
“I have some bad news for you. The Americans already know that you were working for Saeed.”
“You are lying.”
“No, I am not.”
“Who told you?”
“Their director of National Intelligence…Ross.”
“I don’t believe you.” Abel tried to sound calm even though his head was pounding.
“It is true. In fact I don’t think Vienna is a good place for you to be. Fly to Saudi Arabia and I will protect you.”
Fly to Saudi Arabia and you’ll kill me, Abel thought to himself. “How did the Americans find out about me? Saeed would have told them nothing.”
“The assassins you hired have been talking.”
“They were caught?” Abel asked in disbelief.
“No. Not that I know of. All I was told was that the CIA has been in contact with the banks that you and Saeed used. Director Kennedy herself flew to Zurich and met with the bankers. Saeed did not take your money. The CIA did.”
“I don’t care who took my money. Our deal still stands. Eleven million dollars. You owe me ten.”
“Yes I do,” Rashid said in a reasonable voice, “and you will get it. Every six months I will wire you another million.”
“That’ll take five years.”
“Exactly, and during that time I will sleep well knowing that you have an incentive not to betray me.”
“No! We made a deal yesterday.”
“Deals get modified. Fly to Granada. I’ll send my plane. We can discuss your terms.”
Abel took the hard plastic handset and banged it against his forehead several times. He was in no position to negotiate. “Six months from today, I want to see a million dollars deposited in my account or I give the Americans everything on you. Not just this stuff about Rapp, but everything. And just in case you’ve decided to send that goon Tayyib after me, you’d better know I took out an insurance policy.”
“What insurance policy?”
“I put everything on an encrypted disk and gave it to an attorney.” Abel was lying. “If I fail to call him by a specific date each month he has instructions to send the disk to the FBI. I want my million dollars every six months, Rashid, and if I see any sign of Tayyib or any of his people I will call Mitch Rapp personally.”
Abel slammed the phone into its cradle, and spun around. He grabbed his bag and started off down the street. He hadn’t made arrangements with an attorney yet, but he would the first chance he got. Rashid’s renegotiated deal was hard to argue with. If he’d been in his shoes, he would have done the same thing. Abel still didn’t trust him and that was why he was going to have to proceed with plan B. It was a bit risky, but it was better to do it now than wait another day. The Americans were sure to find out about his mountain retreat at some point. He’d left his new Mercedes in a private garage, before he’d left for Venice. He would pick it up, dash across the border to his Alpine house, and empty out his safe, which had over $500,000 in cash, plus a few weapons, several sets of identification, and some very important files.
77
VIENNA, AUSTRIA
T he two Saudis were on their backs, their ankles and hands bound with white flex cuffs and duct tape stretched tightly over their mouths and eyes. The bigger man’s elbow wound had been bandaged, not because they were concerned for his health, but because they didn’t want to have to clean up any more blood. It had taken an entire bag of cat litter just to soak up the puddle of blood that had poured out of the third man’s head. Milt’s team was used to this stuff. Within minutes they were running around town purchasing a vacuum, cleaning solutions, a two-wheeler, cat litter, duct tape, rolls of heavy plastic, and even a fifty-inch projection TV. The TV was left in an alley not far from where it had been purchased, and the box was saved.
Rapp looked on, as the guy he’d shot in the head was wrapped up in plastic, duct-taped, and then placed in the large TV box. None of them were carrying IDs, but Rapp was willing to bet the farm they were Saudis. The big guy with the busted elbow was left on the floor while the other guy was knocked out with a needle full of Xanax to the thigh, and tossed in the box on top of his dead friend. Milt’s guys resealed the box with clear packing tape and took it away on the two-wheeler. The dead guy would be chopped up into pieces and dropped into vats of industrial acid. The second guy they weren’t sure what they’d do with, but after listening to the woman tell them how she’d been brutally beaten and raped, Rapp was tempted to cut the guy’s balls off, shove them down his throat, and let him choke to death.
Coleman and Sarah were in the other room trying to talk to the woman. They’d given her a much smaller dose of Xanax to help calm her down. She was making too much noise. She told them how she had answered her apartment door the previous night and the big man had been standing there. The next thing she remembered was waking up in a basement somewhere and then the beating started. They wanted to know where her boss was. So did Coleman and Sarah, but they didn’t push it. After all this woman had been through she was not going to respond well to rough or even assertive behavior. They listened and asked a few gentle questions to help nudge her in the right direction. When was the last time you spoke to your boss? Have you ever seen any of these men before?
She explained that her boss had called her on Thursday of the previous week and told her not to bother coming in for a while. She decided to take the time to travel. She was going to leave this very morning and then these men showed up at her apartment. At this point she had a melt-down, and it took several minutes and a little Xanax to calm her down. One of the men she recognized. The tall one. She was pretty sure he was a Saudi. Her boss did a lot of work with the Saudis and several of the other Arab countries. She explained that Vienna was home to one of the three United Nations headquarters and also OPEC. Coleman pressed her on the type of work they did. Mostly lobbying, and some risk assessment. Coleman asked her if she knew her boss had worked for the East German secret police. She said she did not, and he believed her.
Meanwhile Rapp was going through the contents of the safe. It took one of Milt’s guys less than two minutes to open it. They’d found some interesting stuff in there, like a copy of Alice in Wonderland. A leftover from his old days with the Stasi no doubt. Probably given to him by his KGB supervisor. Rapp opened it to the title page and sure enough it was addressed to Abel. The inscription was in Russian and since Rapp didn’t understand a word of it he handed it off to one of Milt’s people so it could be boxed up and taken back to Langley for deeper analysis. It was an old trick of the KGB to use books as keys to decipher coded messages. There was also a 9mm H&K P2000 with a silencer. Rapp inspected the weapon, turning it over in his hand and checking it from several angles. It was spotless, but not from cleaning. Rapp guessed the weapon had been fired fewer than a hundred times. There were a few disks that were coded. They were sent straight over to Milt so he could begin working on them with Marcus Dumond back at Langley. Other than that, there were a few files, 10,000 euros, and a fake passport and matching credit card. All said, there was nothing that was going to tell them where Abel w
as right now.
Rapp had attempted, briefly, to interrogate the big guy, but he began screaming like all hell and Rapp had been forced to pistol-whip him across the side of the head to shut him up. The guy was just coming out of it and Rapp was anxious to try again. He wanted to find out just who in the hell he worked for.
Coleman came up and tapped him on the shoulder. “You might want to come talk to her.”
“What’s up?”
“She’s talking about some place that didn’t show up on any of our checks. Some Alpine house. I guess it’s a mountain retreat that her boss uses to get away.”
“Has she ever been there?”
Coleman shook his head. “I guess he’s pretty private about it, but over the years, she’s heard bits and pieces.”
“Does she know where it is?”
“Not specifically, but she says it’s in the Tyrol Region near a city called Bludenz.”
Before Rapp could ask just where in the hell Bludenz was, Milt Johnson’s voice came squawking over the secure digital radio. “Mitch, are you there?”
Rapp had taken out his earpiece. The radio was clipped to his belt. He snatched it and thumbed the talk button. “What do you need, Milt?”
“Did I tell you this guy dropped one hundred and twenty-five grand on a brand-new Mercedes a week ago?”
“No.”
“Well, I think I just found it.”
Rapp stared at the radio for a second and shook his head. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“Not yet. You’re supposed to ask me how I found it.”
“Milt, how did you find it?”
“I’m glad you asked me that. These high-end cars all come with GPS. We hacked into the Mercedes database, entered the vehicle number that we got off the registration, and came up with the car’s GPS locater. I kicked it over to the NSA this morning and they just let me know where the car is.”