The Last Man mr-13

by Vince Flynn

  Rapp threw up his hands. “Just trying to help.”

  Dumond went back to hammering away on his keyboard. “The point I’m trying to make is that this isn’t normal. The only people that pay for protection like this are people who are really paranoid, and I’m not talking paranoid for the sake of being paranoid. I’m talking paranoid, because they need to hide some serious shit.”

  Rapp watched Hurley talk to the bodyguards, but was still thinking about Dumond’s frustration. Herr Obrecht was turning out to be a far more interesting person than he had first thought. Rapp watched Hurley hand one of the men a card and jog back to the car.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Nice chap.” Hurley pushed back in his seat and straightened his jacket.

  “British?”

  “No… he’s one of ours… Green Beret. The other two are British, and I think the third one is Polish Special Forces.”

  “Who do they work for?”

  “Obrecht.”

  “Directly… not Triple Canopy or someone?”

  “Nope… Obrecht brought them on board a month ago.” Rapp thought about the timing. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah… I wrote down my number on a card and told him to give it to his boss.” Hurley pointed across the street. “Look, he’s calling him right now.” The guard had a handset in one hand and Hurley’s business card in the other. “I told him to tell his boss that I needed to talk to him about Louie Gould.”

  Rapp was surprised. “I like that. If Gould was telling us the truth, that should freak him out.”

  “You think he’ll call?”

  “No.” Rapp shook his head. “A guy like this will have his lawyers call Interpol and ask about you, and if you check out then he might call, but it’s a Saturday, so the earliest we’d hear from him would be Monday.”

  “Yeah… I bet you’re right.”

  They watched the bodyguards for another minute and then Rapp said, “I’ve been thinking. Marcus is having a hell of a time trying to get into the bank’s server. He said they are using high-end stuff.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. These banks are security conscious now.”

  “This is different,” Dumond declared from the backseat. “Not your normal stuff.”

  “My point is this,” Rapp continued. “Obrecht seems awfully security conscious. Does he seem like the kind of guy who would sit down with someone from the FBI and willingly turn over private information pertaining to his clients’ financial transactions?”

  Hurley frowned. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “This doesn’t smell right. I think someone is jerking our chain.” Rapp drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and was about to suggest they head back to hook up with Coleman when he noticed a dark gray Peugeot round the corner in front of them. As the vehicle neared the gate it slowed to a crawl. Nothing too unusual when you thought of the big ornate gate and the armed men standing in front of it. Rapp’s window was down and he leaned over the steering wheel to get a good look at the driver and passengers. There were four of them, all with jetblack hair and dark skin. The driver had a thick mustache, but it was the man in the rear passenger seat who caught Rapp’s eye. When the cars were almost level with each other, Rapp and the man in the backseat locked on to each other, and the expression on the man’s face was one of both recognition and fear.

  The other car was gone in an instant, and before Rapp could articulate what was on his mind, Hurley said, “What in the fuck are four rag heads doing sightseeing in the middle of Switzerland on a Saturday afternoon?”

  Rapp wasn’t sure the men were Afghanis, but he was sure the man in the backseat recognized him. Rapp pulled the gearshift into drive and checked his mirror. “Did you see the guy in the backseat?”

  “Yeah… He looked like he saw a ghost.” Hurley snapped his head around. “And they’re not waiting around to talk. You’d better whip a U-turn, and step on it.”

  Chapter 54

  Rapp pushed the car past 70 mph, popped in his earpiece, and called Coleman’s cell. As it started to ring he rounded a corner and caught his first glimpse of the gray sedan. The sedan disappeared around the next corner faster than Rapp would have thought possible. They had to be going close to 100 mph.

  “They’re in a hurry,” Hurley announced.

  “You two have your seat belts on?” Rapp asked Hayek and Dumond. They both did. Rapp glanced over at Hurley and saw that he was not wearing his belt.

  “Big deal,” Hurley said in his angry voice.

  “Yeah… I know, you’re going to be dead in six months, but that’s six months from now, so put on your damn seat belt.”

  “What’s up?” Coleman’s voice asked over Rapp’s earpiece.

  “We are in pursuit of a gray four-door Peugeot sedan. Headed your way. There’s four guys inside… all late thirties or early forties. Looks like they’re Afghanis or Pakistanis.”

  “They’re Pakistanis,” Hurley stated more forcefully. “I know my Pakis.”

  Rapp ignored him and focused on Coleman. “Are you at the inn?” “Standing on the sidewalk in front.”

  “Get back to the car and get out to the other side of town where we were stopped earlier. The ditch on the south side has some good concealment. Put Wicker in there and have him shoot out the tires on the Peugeot when it clears the town.” Rapp could hear Coleman shouting orders to his men.

  “Scott,” Rapp said, “they’re coming fast. You guys need to really haul ass.”

  “We’re on it. Already in the car and moving. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

  “No, this road only goes to one place. Get in position and call me, and if you guys get in a shootout, don’t kill all of them. We need to talk to a few of these guys.”

  “Copy. I’ll ring you back.”

  Hurley pointed at the road. “You need to speed up.”

  “Scott’s got things handled.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “God, you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.” Rapp braked and turned the wheel, the tires skidding on the pavement. “You want me to end up in the ditch?”

  “I just think you could go a little faster, that’s all.”

  They were on a straightaway now and Rapp pushed the BMW north of 100 mph, only to have a car pull out of a driveway. Rapp swerved into the oncoming lane and slowed. Another tight turn was up ahead and there was no sign of the Peugeot. With each turn he expected to see the car smoking and wrapped around a tree. He didn’t need to catch them, only stay close enough to drive them to Coleman.

  Three hundred yards on the other side of town, right where the road began to curve north, Coleman pulled over and popped the trunk. Wicker jumped out and grabbed his shooting bag. As soon as the trunk was closed, the BMW took off and Wicker ran across the road, into the ditch, and up the other side. The mistake most people made with vehicle interdiction was that they set up too close to the road. Once you took the shot you then ended up with a five-ton vehicle careening toward you out of control. Wicker went to the edge of the trees, turned, checked out his spot, and dropped his bag.

  The former SEAL sniper didn’t bother with his camouflage netting, as the trees offered enough concealment. He set up his position against the base of a big pine tree, then marked two signs on the road and their approximate distance. As Wicker eased his eye into position behind the scope, he focused on his breathing.

  Less than ten seconds later he heard the roar of an engine and popped his head up to see the gray sedan flying through the middle of town at an incredibly reckless speed. Wicker dropped his eye behind the scope and acquired the target. The guy was going too fast to allow wider to get off an accurate shot, but he knew he would have to slow down or he’d never make the next turn. Almost on cue, the vehicle braked hard. Wicker sighted in on the front driver’s side tire and squeezed off a suppressed round.

  A split second later he heard a pop and then sound of rubber shredding. The front left corner of the Peugeot dropped down and the back end
began to swing around clockwise. Wicker grabbed his rifle and rolled behind the big pine. It was going to be close.

  Kassar had been filled with a sense of dread for several days. The only reason he’d accepted the job to go to Zurich was that it would provide him with the opportunity to run if he finally made the decision. He no longer trusted Durrani. He’d seen him kill one too many people to tie up his so-called loose ends. Sooner or later Kassar was going to be one of those loose ends, and Durrani would replace him with one of his fanatical goons, like the three men he was working with today.

  Kassar despised them. Durrani had found them in the tribal areas and trained them to carry out his radical plots. They were thoughtless militants who wavered between amazing acts of bravery and stupidity. There was not an ounce of finesse among the three of them. After the first pass of Obrecht’s estate, the men unanimously wanted to wait until nightfall and storm the property. Kassar tried to explain to them that the odds of a successful outcome were close to zero, but they would not listen to him.

  It was on the second pass that they found a big surprise. Kassar had learned that they liked to question his authority unless he invoked General Durrani, so he had told them upon leaving the embassy that Durrani had been very specific. If they saw Mitch Rapp they were supposed to abort the mission and get back to the Pakistani Embassy as soon as possible. When they made their second pass and he saw the BMW parked across the street, Kassar was curious. Then he saw Rapp behind the steering wheel. For once the men listened to him when he told them whom he had seen and that they needed go as fast as possible.

  For the first half mile it worked, and then Mansur, the self-appointed leader of the three, started talking about setting up an ambush. When Kassar told him no, Mansur wanted to argue and began asking for input from the other two imbeciles. That was when Kassar lost it and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the general, you idiot. He gave us specific orders and now you want to argue with him.” Kassar made a great show of hitting Send and then holding the phone to his ear.

  Mansur tried to apologize, but Kassar was not interested. When Durrani finally got on the phone, Kassar filled him on what was going on and then told him that the men he had sent were incompetent fools who should be reassigned to one of the suicide battalions that the Taliban were so proud of. When Durrani started asking too many questions, Kassar cut him off and told him he would call him back. He ended the call just as they raced into the small town, going so fast that they were out of it by the time Kassar could tell the driver to slow down.

  He breathed a huge sigh of relief that they were back among the fields and trees. Kassar had just started to tell the driver to slow down when it happened. The car lurched, slowed suddenly, and then began to spin out of control. None of them were wearing their seat belts, and when the car came out of its first full spin it flipped, and Kassar found himself floating between the seat and the ceiling. Then the vehicle hit something incredibly hard and helicoptered upside down into the forest until it came violently to a stop between two trees.

  Disoriented but conscious, Kassar began to feel his way out of the upside-down car. There was broken glass everywhere and he could already smell the petrol leaking and the burnt rubber of the tires. There were other movements inside the car. Unfortunately, the fool Mansur was still alive. The driver was motionless. The thought of Rapp in close pursuit drove Kassar to ignore the pain and move faster. He squirmed out of the vehicle, onto his back, and sat up. He immediately noticed his balance was off, but nothing appeared to be broken. Mansur and one of the other men got out of the car and wanted to know what to do. Kassar stood and looked down the road. To his left he noticed another car and some men with rifles. To his right he thought he glimpsed Rapp’s BMW moving through the small town.

  Mansur clutched his arm. “We should make a stand here.” Kassar shook his head and said, “I know what we need to do.” He pointed into the woods, and when Mansur and the other man turned to see what he was pointing at, Kassar shot them both in the back of the head. He then dropped his gun, put his hands above his head, and walked back to the road.

  Chapter 55

  Ramstein Air Base

  The Gulfstream G550 touched down after dark. The president had ordered Kennedy to meet with her counterpart in Pakistan to see if she could find a solution to the brewing controversy at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad, where four Pakistani nationals were seeking political asylum after having been exposed by Rickman. The crowds were growing each day, the worst and most violent on Friday when a group of radical imams had led a march on the embassy that had resulted in three deaths and Pakistani security forces dispersing the crowd with tear gas and rubber bullets. The imams had promised to return and storm the embassy. Kennedy was to try to find a backdoor solution. If she failed, the secretary of state would be making the next trip.

  The G550 was capable of flying nonstop from D.C. to Islamabad, but Kennedy had the plane diverted to Ramstein after Rapp told her what he’d discovered. Kennedy’s plane came to a stop next to the other CIA G550, and as soon as the stairs were lowered, Rapp bounded up the steps with Hurley following. Rapp and Hurley continued past the director’s security detail and her staff to the back of the plane, where they sat down with Kennedy. With help of Hayek, Rapp had prepared a briefing folder for Kennedy.

  Rapp handed it to her and said, “Look at this on the flight. It’s information that you can use to make Durrani nervous, but I don’t want you letting him know that we know he’s behind this.” Kennedy took the file. “Are you sure he’s behind it?”

  “Yes. This Kassar is cooperating, and there is no way he could be making this stuff up.”

  “And he says Rick is still alive?” Kennedy asked.

  “Alive and resting at Durrani’s private compound. He’s slated for plastic surgery on Monday.”

  Kennedy grabbed her forehead. “I can’t believe this.” Looking at Hurley, she asked, “Stan, do you trust this man?”

  “I don’t trust anyone except maybe you two, but he seems sincere.”

  “I heard he executed two of his own men in Switzerland.”

  “He did,” Rapp said, “but they weren’t his men. They were Durrani’s, and he claims they were idiots.”

  “So he just kills them and I’m supposed to think that makes everything fine?”

  Hurley and Rapp shared an awkward glance. “It’s hard to explain, Irene, but I believe this guy,” Rapp said.

  Kennedy thought of what Rapp had said to her a few days earlier. “Do you believe him because you want to believe him?”

  “That’s not it,” Hurley jumped in. “This Kassar tells a pretty convincing story.”

  “Irene,” Rapp said, leaning forward, “he’s the guy in the tape. The one who walks in and shoots the two guys.”

  “He told you that?” Kennedy asked in near total shock.

  “Yes… he told us how he gave Rick a shot right before the final beating that would make it look like he was dead. They staged the whole thing. Including leaving the camera behind for us to find.”

  “And the beating was real?”

  “Yep… It was Rick’s idea. Kassar said he tried to stop it repeatedly, but Rick would not listen. He said the only way it would work was if they made it look real.”

  As Kennedy thought of the remorse and recrimination she’d felt over Rickman’s beating and death she was dumbstruck. What kind of sick man would go to such lengths?

  “And Hubbard was supposed to disappear as well,” Hurley added. “It was part of the deal Rick set up. He had arranged for Hubbard to stay behind and feed Mitch the information about the dog and then they would sneak him out of the country, but Durrani thought bringing Hubbard along was too big a risk, so he had him killed and told Rick Mitch did it.”

  “And Gould?”

  “Rick hired him,” Hurley said. “Kassar said Rick was obsessed with Mitch. Said he kept telling Durrani that the only way this would work was if Mitch was killed.”

  “I don�
�t understand.”

  “Apparently,” Rapp said with no joy, “he thinks I’m the only man who ever really got him. Who understood how he thought.”

  “And,” Hurley said, “he was scared shitless of Mitch. Kept telling Durrani that Mitch was the last man at the Agency. That if he had even the slightest inkling that something was wrong he wouldn’t stop until he’d tracked both of them down and killed them.”

  “Which is exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Kennedy took in a deep breath and leaned back. She could tell by the look on both Rapp’s and Hurley’s faces that it would be impossible to dissuade them from killing Rickman and Durrani. At the moment she had no objection, but this could be a very complicated operation, one they might not survive. “Why do I get the feeling that the two of you already have a plan?”

  “We’re still working on it,” Rapp said.

  “I don’t want to rush into this,” Kennedy declared. “We should get JSOC involved and do this the right way.”

  “Irene, you know I love JSOC. No one is better than those guys, but that could take weeks to pull together. Rick can give away a lot of secrets in two weeks. Shit, he can give away a lot of secrets in two days.”

  “I don’t like the idea of sending you two in to handle something like this. If anything goes wrong I won’t be able to help you. Durrani is a dangerous man.”

  “Irene, look at the fallout after the bin Laden raid, and that was Abbottabad, sixty minutes north of the capital, and bin Laden was a fucking Saudi and the most notorious terrorist in the world. Durrani is a decorated Army officer and for all intents and purposes the secondmost-powerful man in the ISI, and his compound is on the outskirts of the capital. You can’t send the SEALs or Delta Force in there. We’ll have a fucking war on our hands.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. “How are you going to do it?”

  There was another sheepish look between Rapp and Hurley, and then Rapp finally said, “Like I said, we’re still working on it.”