Act of Treason

by Vince Flynn

  Rapp had picked up on Speyer’s tone during dinner. It was obvious that he did not enjoy the company of men like Green and Gordievsky. That didn’t make him any less guilty at this point, just slightly more likable. Rapp saw potential in Speyer. It wasn’t every day that the CIA had the opportunity to own the president of one of Geneva’s most influential banks. The information they could get from Speyer would be extremely valuable.

  “So tell me again about the security.” Rapp turned and looked down the block at Green’s building.

  “I already told you three times.”

  “Tell me again.” Rapp wanted to make sure Speyer wasn’t leaving anything out.

  “The lobby has bulletproof glass. The doorman is not on at this hour, so we call the penthouse, they buzz us in and send the elevator down.”

  “And once we get to the fourth floor?”

  “The door opens and one of the bodyguards is waiting for us. Sometimes two.”

  “And they run a metal detector over you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the butler?”

  “Sometimes he’s there. Sometimes he isn’t. It usually depends how late it is.”

  Rapp didn’t like the idea of killing the butler. “I thought you said he lives there.”

  “I mean there when you get off the elevator.”

  “Even at midnight?”

  “Working for Cy Green is a twenty-four-hour job.” Speyer pushed his glasses up on his nose.

  Through Rapp’s earpiece he heard Coleman say, “They just dropped Garret off at his hotel and are en route.”

  Rapp passed the information onto Speyer, who began wringing his hands nervously. “That’s not going to work.”

  “What?”

  “You getting all nervous. You need to stay calm.”

  “How can you honestly expect me to stay calm?”

  “Just relax and think about how nice your life is going to be without Green and this Belarusian pig in it.”

  “Yes, but how do I know you won’t shoot me in the back?”

  Rapp smiled and checked his watch. It was 11:56. At least these guys were punctual. Speyer had given them the name of Green’s favorite escort service. Rapp called the service and told them Mr. Green wanted to let them know he was running an hour late. The person at the service said she would change the arrival time to 1:00 a.m.

  “Joseph, I know a good opportunity when I see one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you go in there and do exactly as I say, I’m not going to shoot you. You’re going to get up in the morning and go to work. You’ll get to keep your house in the mountains and your flat in Paris. The only thing that’s going to change is that you’ll be rid of these two assholes.”

  “I don’t get it. What are you going to get out of this?”

  Rapp smiled. “You are going to start spying for the CIA.”

  “I can’t!” The look on Speyer’s face was one of shocked indignation.

  “Yes, you can, and you will, or I’ll have that little talk with President Alexander about your role in the death of his wife and then the bank, the mountain house, the flat in Paris…they all go away. And then he’ll send me back over here to kill you.” Rapp shook his head. “Trust me. Take option A. The other way will be no fun at all.”

  Speyer tilted his head back and took in a nervous breath. “I can do this.”

  “You’re damn right you can,” Rapp said, happy that Speyer was finally seeing things his way. “All you have to do is stay calm and let me take care of the rest.”

  The Hummer came rolling down the narrow street, towering over the smaller European-made cars. It stopped in front of Green’s building, and one sumo-sized bodyguard got out. Rapp smiled to himself. The big ones were great for show and good for deterrence, but they moved too slowly to be effective against a well-trained attacker. Green and Gordievsky got out next and then another of the giants stepped down from the truck. All four men continued into the building and the truck drove away to find a parking space, Rapp presumed. Coleman would follow the man and take him out when the time was right. Rapp looked down at his watch just as it struck midnight.

  Looking at Speyer he said, “Let’s go.”

  Both men got out of the car. Rapp slid his knife into the right outside pocket of his leather jacket and transferred his silenced Glock to the left pocket. He walked around the front of the car and joined Speyer as they crossed the street. They continued down the sidewalk to the front door of the building. Speyer adjusted his glasses and reached out for the buzzer.

  “Remember…smile,” Rapp whispered. “We’re supposed to be having fun.”

  Speyer grinned awkwardly and pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later Green’s voice came out of the tiny box. “Joseph, you came, and you brought a friend. How good of you. Come straight up.”

  A clicking noise sounded the release of the lock. Rapp leaned into the door with his shoulder, not wanting to touch the glass with his hand. He pushed it open and gestured for Speyer to go in first. They walked across the relatively small lobby to the elevator. The white lights above it told them the lift was descending from the fourth floor. Rapp flexed his knees several times and cracked his neck from side to side.

  Speyer looked at him sideways. “What are you doing?”

  “Loosening up. Bend your knees…relax.”

  The banker tried it.

  “Now take a few deep breaths, and just think about how happy you’re going to be when this is over.”

  The elevator doors opened and they entered. Speyer turned around and leaned against the back wall. Rapp did the same and slid close to him so their shoulders were touching. He wanted it to actually look like they liked each other. The doors closed and the elevator began to move.

  Rapp smiled and asked, “So how long have you been in the banking business?”

  “Please don’t shoot me.”

  Rapp got the feeling positive reinforcement didn’t work well with Speyer. He put his mouth up to Speyer’s ear and said, “If you fucking bring it up one more time…I might.” He then moved away and smiled. “All you have to do is stand still and stick your arms out. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  A tense moment later the elevator doors opened slowly. As they did Rapp turned to face Speyer and gripped his pistol. There was just enough play in his jacket that he could fire from the hip if he needed to. The bodyguard was standing in the middle of the foyer with a handheld metal detector. The second bodyguard had already taken up a not-so-alert position in a chair against the wall to his left. No butler. Rapp casually checked out the entire room from right to left as Speyer stepped off the elevator. He did a quick inventory of both bodyguards; hands, feet, and eyes. The feet were flat and the hands so puffy Rapp bet he could count to five before they were able to wrestle their guns from their holsters. Their eyes were bloodshot and dull. There was a good chance they’d been drinking.

  Speyer stuck his hands out like a scarecrow so the big guy could give him the once-over with the metal detector. Rapp stayed behind him, turning a touch to his left as he drew his pistol, concealing it against the black leather jacket. The guy did a sloppy job checking Speyer. Rapp began circling around to his left and acting like he was interested in the artwork. As soon as Speyer put his hands down, Rapp pulled his knife out of his pocket with his right hand and held it up above his head.

  “I suppose you guys will want to take this from me.” Rapp’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men. Both of them were frozen by the sight of the knife. Neither saw the pistol. Rapp fired from the hip. Two shots in under one second. The man in the chair was hit in the exact middle of his forehead. The man standing was hit just under his right eyebrow. He took one step forward and started to fall. Rapp moved quickly to try to break his fall. With the knife still in his right hand he reached out and tried to slow the man just enough to keep him from hitting the floor too hard. The guy thudded to his knees and then fell onto his left side. Rapp put on
e more in each guy’s head and stuffed the knife back in his pocket.

  “Let’s go.” Rapp grabbed the back of Speyer’s coat and propelled him down the hall.

  They made it to the big living room and turned left. Everything was exactly as Speyer said it would be. The double doors to the library and billiard room were straight ahead. Rapp could see shadows and hear voices. He drove Speyer forward, keeping him where he could see him. They reached the doorway. The room ran to the right. Rapp turned Speyer that way and then continued straight so he could gain a full field of fire. He was more exposed than he would have liked, but he didn’t want Speyer making some unpredictable move that might screw up a shot.

  Gordievsky was at the far end of the table getting ready to break, his bald head shining from the overhead light. His mouth started to form a word, but the sound never made it out. The bullet hit him in the top of his forehead, forming a red dot the size of a dime. Gordievsky’s knees gave way, and his chin slid down and bounced off the end of the table. Just like that he was gone. Green stood on the far side of the table, both hands gripping his cue, the tip in front of his chin. All his weight was back and his posture slouched. Here was a man who paid others to do his dirty work.

  Green looked at Rapp and without blinking said, “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”

  Rapp laughed and said, “I’m not for sale. This is courtesy of the U.S. government, you piece of shit.” Rapp squeezed off a round. It struck Green right between his eyes and the billionaire fell over with pool cue in hand. Rapp walked over to him and put three more rounds into the right center of his chest.

  Rapp pressed the transmit button and said, “Everything is secure up here. I’ll send the elevator down. Remember, we want all the garbage packed up and out of here within an hour.”

  The banker’s face was white and he was shaking uncontrollably. Rapp walked over to him and said, “Let this be a lesson, Joseph. As long as you’re honest with me, and you don’t do anything to harm me or my country, this will never happen to you. But so help me god, if you fuck me over just once, you’ll end up just like these greedy assholes.”

  54

  WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC

  K ennedy clutched her purse in one hand and the President’s Daily Brief in the other. She’d lost count how many times she’d delivered the PDB to President Hayes, but it probably averaged out to four days a week for the past two years. The PDB was essentially a highly classified newspaper that was prepared by the CIA’s Office of Current Production and Analytical Support. President Hayes read the document every morning, as well as several newspapers.

  Kennedy stopped outside the president’s private dining room and smiled at the Secret Service agent standing post. The director of the CIA had not slept well, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Rapp. By the time she went to bed, he was at the airport preparing to take off. Green’s penthouse had been scrubbed clean and the bodies disposed of. She had other things on her mind. Everything had to work perfectly or she could make an already pathetic situation worse. The hardest part had been placing her trust in several individuals. Individuals who carried badges and had sworn an oath to uphold the law and protect and defend the constitution. What she had to offer them was justice. There was no doubt about it. The alternative was to go public and watch America descend into suspicion and chaos.

  Kennedy knocked on the door once and entered. President Hayes was sitting at his private dining table. He was in a white dress shirt and tie, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. As always he had his four newspapers: The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Washington Times, and USA Today. Each paper was folded in quarters, two on the left and two on the right. Carl, the president’s Navy steward, arranged them just so, every morning.

  “Irene,” the president said, rising slowly, “I think this is going to be one of the things I’ll miss most about this job.”

  Irene could hear someone working in the pantry right around the corner. “You mean Carl’s cooking?”

  The president laughed. “What’s so hard about a bowl of blueberries and half a grapefruit?”

  Carl came around the corner with a plate in hand and said, “It is not my fault you have turned into a health nut.” He set the plate down in-between the president’s perfectly folded newspapers. Then, ignoring the commander in chief, he turned to Kennedy and in a much nicer tone asked, “How are you doing this morning, Director Kennedy?”

  “Fine, Carl, and you?”

  “Counting the minutes until he is gone.” The Filipino steward jerked his head toward Hayes.

  “It won’t be the same, will it?”

  “Yes, very sad. I remember once I had an abscessed tooth pulled. I was equally upset to see it go.”

  The president laughed. He loved ribbing and being ribbed by Carl.

  “What would you like to eat this morning?” Carl asked Kennedy. “And please don’t order the other half of his grapefruit.”

  That was exactly what Kennedy had been about to do, but she didn’t want to disappoint Carl. “How about an omelet?”

  “The best you have ever had.”

  Carl disappeared down the hall and into the pantry. Kennedy turned to face the president. She handed him the PDB.

  Hayes took it, and held it for a second. Then looking at Kennedy he said, “I’ve never been one to live life with regrets. Even more so since the Parkinson’s.”

  “It is one of your most admirable qualities, sir.”

  “Well, as Carl said, the minutes are ticking away, and they’ve got me running crazy today so I don’t want to forget to tell you how much you’ve meant to me.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I mean it, Irene. You have given me nothing but wise and measured council during some very difficult times. I’m going to miss having breakfast with you every morning.” Hayes opened his arms and gave Kennedy a big hug.

  When they parted she said, “I’ll have to visit you in Ohio. Maybe I can bring Carl.”

  They both laughed while they took their seats at the table. Carl brought Kennedy some tea and refilled the president’s coffee. The president skimmed the PDB, but his heart wasn’t in it. With a little more than a day left in office there wasn’t much he could do. Besides, there was something else on his mind.

  “So, you’re sure it was Ross and Garret who planted that smear piece with the Times?”

  “Yes,” Kennedy said with absolute confidence.

  “He called late yesterday.”

  “Who?” Kennedy asked even though she knew.

  “Ross. He said he’d like to bury the hatchet with me.”

  “That’s good?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “You should follow your instincts.”

  Hayes looked out the window with a troubled expression.

  “What does he want to talk about?”

  “A pardon of some sort.” Hayes turned his attention back to Kennedy and said, “And you.”

  Kennedy feigned surprise. “Me?”

  “Yes. He claims he may have been wrong about you.”

  “That’s interesting.” Kennedy knew all about the meeting, knew that Ross and Stokes were going to ask for a pardon, but she didn’t know that she was going to be dragged into it so directly.

  “Yes,” Hayes said skeptically. “I think he’s up to something.”

  “Probably. Would you like me to join you?”

  Hayes thought about it and nodded. “I don’t want any backstabbing on my last day. If he has anything he’d like to say, he can say it with you in the room.”

  “Good.”

  Kennedy’s omelet arrived browned to perfection. Hayes was a fast eater, and Kennedy was a light eater. Kennedy had made the decision not to tell Hayes what they had learned. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, it was that he had given so much, seen so much, that he deserved to leave office unburdened by what they were about to do.

  Kennedy heard footfalls coming from the Ova
l Office behind her and turned to see Jack Warch, the deputy director of the United States Secret Service, entering the dining room.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Hayes said.

  “Good morning, Mr. President, Director Kennedy.” Warch stopped at the side of the table. “How are you feeling on your last day?”

  “I still have tomorrow.”

  “Last full day?” Warch had served as the special agent in charge of Hayes’s detail for the first three years.

  “I feel good.”

  “Fantastic.” Warch clapped his hands together. “With your permission, I’d like to accompany you and the First Lady back to your home in Ohio tomorrow.”

  Hayes looked touched. “You don’t have to do that, Jack.”

  “I know I don’t, sir. I want to.”

  “That would be great. I’d really like that, and I know the First Lady will appreciate it.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure. Now I hate to break up your breakfast, but Lorie asked me to tell you that the attorney general and vice president–elect are ready when you are, though before you meet with them, I need to go over a few things with you.”

  Kennedy set her napkin on the table. “I’ll leave you two alone and ask Lorie to send in the attorney general and V.P. Ross.”

  “Are you sure?” the president asked.

  “Absolutely. We don’t want you playing catch-up on your last full day.”

  “Thank you,” Hayes smiled.

  Kennedy grabbed her purse and her cup of tea and started down the short hallway from the president’s private dining room to the Oval Office. On the left was the pantry. Kennedy stopped and said, “Carl, the omelet was fantastic. Thank you.”

  “Oh…you are always welcome.”

  “Would you please do me a favor and set up coffee service for two and maybe some water in the Oval?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Kennedy continued down the hallway through the Oval Office and into the outer office where the president’s administrative assistants were located.

  “Good morning, Lorie.”

  “Good morning, Director Kennedy.”