by Vince Flynn
Garret was not used to being threatened like this. He was usually the one doing the bullying. Feeling as if his back was against the wall, he decided to go on the attack. “For the last time he’s not my boss, and as long as we’re throwing around threats, why don’t you chew on this one. What do you think your old business partner, Pinky, would do if he found out you killed his daughter?”
“Shhh…” Speyer hissed.
Garret lowered his voice a notch and said, “You think just maybe he might call a couple of his old Mossad buddies and have them pay you a visit?”
Green flashed a thin smile at the political huckster sitting across the table. “Pinky should have given that little slut a lobotomy like Joe Kennedy did to his daughter. Trust me,” Green said trying to further undermine Garret’s threat, “she was a constant headache for him. He’s not as upset about her death as it might seem.”
Garret looked at the billionaire through squinted eyes. “Well, how about Josh, then? How do you think the soon to be president of the U.S. of A. would react if he found out you killed his beloved wife, just so you could keep some of your ill-gotten billions?” Garret leaned back, certain the thrust had hit home. “He might send a Tomahawk missile right up your ass. Or maybe he’ll have one of his aircraft carriers accidentally ram that yacht of yours when you’re out in the middle of the Med some night.” Garret picked up a piece of bread. “I sure wouldn’t want to piss off the commander in chief of the world’s lone superpower.”
Green’s face turned crimson with rage. “You ungrateful little shit. This wasn’t my idea.”
“The hell it wasn’t,” hissed Garret.
“You and your boss came whining to me about your problems.”
“He’s not my boss!”
“Excuse me,” said Green. “Your soon-to-be vice president.”
“Our…remember. You’re the one who wants American citizenship back so fucking bad.”
Speyer couldn’t take any more. The restaurant was loud, but even so, a few patrons had glanced their way. “Gentlemen, I think you have both made your point. You have made a deal. Cy has completed his end of the transaction and now it is your turn, Stu. May I suggest a toast?” Speyer raised his glass. “To Cy’s pardon, which I’m sure will be signed on Saturday.”
They all clinked glasses, and Green smiled, saying, “It had better be.”
Garret returned the smile and said, “Don’t worry, it will be. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to take a piss.”
When Garret was gone, Speyer looked at Green and said, “I have never trusted that man. I told you this was a terrible idea. What is so bad about the life you have here? Why do you need to go back to America?”
“You’d never understand. You weren’t born there.” Green looked across the room. There was a pretty blond sitting at the bar. He held up his glass and gave her a smile. Looking back to Speyer he asked, “Are you going to join us later? It should be a wonderful show.”
Speyer wished everyone would leave him alone so he could pick a selection of wines. “I’m not sure. I’m supposed to meet some colleagues later.”
Green smiled his big Cheshire cat smile. “Where…Le Pretexte for a little male bonding?”
Green was right. Speyer planned on meeting a few friends at Geneva’s premier gay nightclub. “What is that American saying you like?”
“Different strokes for different folks.” Green held up his glass. “Find a friend and bring him with. I will have them send a couple of well-endowed boys along with the girls. We will show Mr. Garret how we entertain in Geneva.”
51
R app had watched Garret enter the restaurant via the feed on his computer. By the time Speyer arrived he was in a position to see him pull up to the curb and valet his car. When a big black Hummer pulled up to the curb Rapp had a feeling he was about to get a look at the final two members of the four-person dinner reservation. His expectations increased when a man the size of an NFL lineman got out of the vehicle and went into the restaurant for a quick look before coming back out. Another mountain of a man climbed out of the truck, while a third stayed behind the wheel. Then came the two men whom they were protecting.
Rapp recognized Gordievsky immediately. He’d studied his file on the flight over. There was something familiar about the second man, but Rapp couldn’t place it. As they entered the restaurant, he turned his attention back to his screen and picked up a small ear bud that was plugged into the laptop’s audio port. The sounds from inside the restaurant instantly filled his ear. Rapp and Dumond were the only two who were monitoring the audio feed from inside the restaurant. Rapp sat back and got comfortable. He fully expected it to be a long evening of watching, listening, and waiting.
Less than a minute later he was on the edge of his seat, struggling to hear every word as Garret and the man named Cy argued about their arrangement. When Garret got up to go to the bathroom, Rapp pressed the transmit button for his radio and asked, “Did you get all that?”
Dumond’s voice crackled back, “Yeah.”
Rapp took the ear bud out that was streaming audio from inside the restaurant and asked, “Can you clean it up a bit? Get rid of the background noise?”
“I’m already on it.”
“How long?”
“Maybe a minute.”
“Good. As soon as it’s ready, encrypt it and send it off to Irene.”
“Roger.”
Rapp glanced at the computer screen and the three men at the table. Speyer had his back to the camera. The bald man was Aleksandr Gordievsky; Rapp was certain of that. He’d read Langley’s file on him the day before. The third man, the one Garret called Cy, Rapp felt there was something familiar about, but no matter how hard he tried to make the connection it remained just beyond his grasp. His thoughts returned to the conversation. So they had kept it from Josh Alexander. Rapp thought for a moment about how they would break the truth to the man and he quickly concluded that it might be better to let him go on thinking she’d been killed at the hands of terrorists.
“Mitch,” Dumond’s voice crackled through Rapp’s earpiece. “Garret is making a call on his mobile phone.”
“Where is he?” Rapp grabbed the ear bud and put it back in his left ear.
“The bathroom.”
“I don’t fucking care.” It was Garret’s voice but it sounded tinny. “This guy is crazy. Get a hold of Stokes and tell him State is all his if he can make this happen.” There were a few moments of silence while Garret listened to whoever it was he was talking to. “Tell the prosecutor in New York she can have any job she wants. Hell…I’ll make her the next senator from wherever the hell it is that she’s from.” There was more silence while Garret listened to the other person. “I don’t care what you have to do, Mark. Just get your ass over to the White House first thing in the morning with Stokes and get Hayes to sign this damn pardon, or I’m telling you, Cy Green will make our lives miserable.”
The name and the face connected in Rapp’s mind and it all came back. Cy Green was a sleazy expatriate who had fled New York under indictment for selling arms to Iraq after the first Gulf War and Libya before they decided to play nice. There was also some other problem involving the purchase of cheap tin and copper at a heavy discount from corrupt Russian oligarchs and cash kickbacks for their favorable pricing. The millions he’d made off that deal weren’t enough so he shorted the market, betting that the prices would go down, and then unloaded all his underpriced commodities which then collapsed the world tin and copper markets. Rapp seemed to remember that a few years back Langley had looked into grabbing Green but had been overruled by the State Department. It made him think of the old adage that sometimes it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. This time around Rapp would be asking for neither.
Rapp looked at the screen and watched as Garret rejoined his fellow traitor at the table. He picked up the secure satellite phone sitting on the seat next to him and pressed the transmit button in his sleeve. “Did you send it
off to Irene?”
“Yeah.”
“What about the last little bit? Are you going to be able to pull the whole conversation off Echelon?”
“I’m working on it right now. It’s near real time, not absolute neat time, so I need a few minutes.”
“All right. Let me know as soon as you have it.” Rapp punched Kennedy’s direct line into the phone and looked at his watch. It was 8:24 in Geneva, which meant it was 2:24 in DC.
Kennedy answered by saying, “I was just going to call you.”
“What’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with Dr. Hornig. She tells me your friend is very talkative.”
“Yeah, but is he saying anything worthwhile?”
“Apparently he took a little trip to the States back in October of last year.”
Rapp looked up slowly and stared out the front window of the car. “He was the one who delivered the van to Gazich.”
“You’re quick.”
“That’s how they found him.” Rapp imagined Milinkavich photographing Gazich as he picked up the van.
“What?”
“Never mind. It’s not important right now. Do you have the e-mail?”
“Yes. It just landed in my in-box.”
“Open it and hit the play button on the audio clip. And make sure you’re sitting down.”
Rapp could hear the clip start. He couldn’t make out every word, but since he’d already heard it, it was easy to follow. When the clip was over, Kennedy cleared her throat and said, “So Ross was involved.”
“Yes. You’re going to get a second clip in shortly. Garret made a phone call from the bathroom. I’m pretty sure he was talking to Ross.”
“I assume this Cy I heard talking was Cy Green?”
“How did you know?” Rapp asked, a bit surprised.
“He and Pinkus Rautbort were business partners. A lot of real estate in New York and a few oil deals. They parted ways when Green got indicted. Very messy. Justice stepped in and seized a bunch of their joint real estate holdings in New York.”
“Didn’t we look into snatching him a few years ago?”
“Yes. Someone on the National Security Council tipped off the State Department and they went nuts.”
“Well, if there’s any silver lining here it’s that Alexander wasn’t involved.”
“I would agree.”
“I don’t think we should tell him,” Rapp said.
“Why not?”
“It’ll tear the guy apart.”
“So you think ignorance is bliss?”
“I wouldn’t call losing your wife blissful. No matter what their marital situation was, it seems like he really cared for her.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Then tell me how telling him the truth will make him a better president?”
“As the president, he needs to know the truth.”
“In most cases I would agree, but not this time. If you tell him what really happened, all you’re going to do is turn him into a miserable, bitter, paranoid man.”
After a long pause Kennedy said, “You’re probably right.”
“Just let me clean things up on this end.”
“Slow down a minute. I want some time to think about this.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Mitch?” Kennedy said, her voice filled with caution.
“I’m going to do what someone should have done a long time ago.”
“Can we at least think it through?”
Rapp laughed. “I don’t need to. The wheels are already spinning.”
“Don’t touch Garret.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“No. We have a bigger fish to fry. Too many coincidences will cause way too much scrutiny. Just let him go and take care of the others. And do me a favor. Ask Marcus if he can get Ross’s medical files from Bethesda for me.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rapp hit end and held the phone in his lap for a second.
“Marcus,” he said as he pressed the transmit button for the secure radio, “find out where Green and Gordievsky live.” He paused and then added, “And see what you can find out about this Le Pretexte place they were talking about.”
52
T he nightclub Speyer was going to was not far from the restaurant, but then again nothing was far in Geneva. Green and Gordievsky were taking Garret to a different club farther away. The place was filled with young Belarusian girls who worked for Gordievsky. The going rate was a thousand dollars for a romp in the sheets. Gordievsky bragged during dinner that he pocketed ninety percent of the fee. Garret had tried to get out of it, but Green had insisted. One stop at a club and then they would take him back to his hotel. Speyer agreed to meet them back at Green’s penthouse for the midnight show.
Rapp’s plan was falling into place. It was 10:41 in the evening when the four of them came out of the restaurant. At the moment, Rapp was only worried about Speyer. He was going to be the key. Rapp had detected something in his voice during dinner. A certain regret that he was associated with the others. Speyer handed the valet his ticket, and the man took off at a trot. Speyer waved good-bye as the others piled into the Hummer.
“Kevin,” Rapp said to the guy in the front seat. “You think those bodyguards are wearing vests?”
Hacket shook his head. “I don’t think they make ’em that big.”
Rapp nodded. He was sure somebody did, but these guys were probably already uncomfortable enough from their extra girth. He doubted they would put on a stiff, hot bulletproof vest. “Here comes the valet. When he pulls in to give Speyer the car, pull out and get in front of him. We’ll have him follow us to Le Pretexte.”
The valet jumped out of Speyer’s BMW and held the door for the banker. Hacket put the car in drive and pulled out onto the Quai de la Poste and headed east. Speyer fell into line behind them. Their destination was just a half mile away. Speyer stayed a polite distance back the entire way. Rapp and Hacket had already checked the place out while Speyer and his guests were eating their main course. Rapp wanted to see the exact layout. He spotted the club from a block away. It was hard to miss with its huge neon sign looming above the street. Even with the temperature hovering in the mid-forties, patrons were lined up halfway down the block.
“Remember, slow down,” Rapp said. “Let me out right here.” Rapp was ready to go. Before the car came to a complete stop he had the door opened and he was out. He slammed the door closed behind him and darted between two parked cars and up onto the sidewalk. Rapp was wearing a black leather jacket with the collar turned up, a pair of dark jeans, and heavy-soled black lace-up shoes. Turning left, he started down the sidewalk toward the front door of the club. Rapp watched Hacket drive off with the BMW right behind him. The patrons were now lined up against the building on his right. He was going to have to adjust his pace to time it perfectly. Hacket approached the intersection and turned right, stopping immediately.
The BMW pulled up to the valet and Speyer got out. He took the ticket and walked around the trunk just as Rapp expected. Rapp sped up. There was no way a guy like Speyer was going to wait in line with the others. Again Rapp was right. Speyer stepped onto the curb and was heading straight for the door. His attention was on his valet ticket, which he was trying to slide into his wallet.
Rapp met him midway between the curb and door. He reached out with his left hand, grabbing the banker by the right elbow. “Joseph,” Rapp said loud enough for the bouncers to hear. “It has been a long time.” Rapp kept moving, taking a startled Speyer with him. In a much quieter voice Rapp said, “You’re lucky my boss wants you alive, because I’d just as soon kill you right here, right now.”
Speyer looked at the strange man with shock in his eyes. He tried to pull away but the man’s grip was simply too tight. “What?” His words were cut short by a stabbing sensation in his side.
“Don’t put up a fight and don’
t raise your voice. Look at my right hand.” Rapp held his knife out in front of him so the banker could see it. The tip of it was crimson with blood. “If you don’t do exactly as I say I’ll slit your throat and leave you to die right here. I know what you and Cy Green have been up to.” Rapp saw a flicker of worry in the man’s eyes. “That’s right, I’m an American. If you cooperate, you’ll make it through this fine, which is more than I can say for your friend Green. Let’s go.” Rapp started toward the waiting Mercedes.
“Who are you?”
Rapp kept walking. “I’m the guy who’s going to solve all your problems.”
They reached the Mercedes and Rapp opened the rear passenger door. Instead of getting in, Speyer’s eyes darted back in the direction of the club. Rapp smiled and said, “Tell me you don’t regret getting into business with Green, and I’ll let you go. I’ll go kill the fucking piece of shit myself, and then I’ll tell President Alexander that you helped facilitate the murder of his wife and eighteen other Americans.” Rapp looked past the glasses, into the banker’s eyes. He could see the man running the numbers. Asking himself which was the path that would save his hide. In a more reasonable voice Rapp added, “Either that or you can get in the car and you can help me.”
“What do I get out of it?”
Rapp smiled and said, “You get to live.”
53
R app sat sideways with his left leg up on the seat. He’d already frisked the banker. All he found was a wallet and phone. He took both and dropped them onto the front passenger seat. He’d switched the knife from his right hand to his left and pointed the tip at Speyer’s face.
“Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?”
The banker gave him an analytical look and said, “You shouldn’t.”
“That’s right.”
“But you were correct when you noted that my life would be much easier if Cy Green were out of it.”