Consent To Kill_ A Thriller Part 42

T hey sat and waited. They watched the mayor arrive, or at least they a.s.sumed it was him. Who else would travel with a local police escort? The cars pulled up to the main gate just before seven in the evening, just as the sun was disappearing and the light was fading. The temperature began to drop like a stone. They knew it would be a while so they got something to eat and went over the plan one more time. All the gear was stowed and Hackett was sent to the airport to get the plane ready in case they needed to make a hasty departure. hey sat and waited. They watched the mayor arrive, or at least they a.s.sumed it was him. Who else would travel with a local police escort? The cars pulled up to the main gate just before seven in the evening, just as the sun was disappearing and the light was fading. The temperature began to drop like a stone. They knew it would be a while so they got something to eat and went over the plan one more time. All the gear was stowed and Hackett was sent to the airport to get the plane ready in case they needed to make a hasty departure.

The mayor left shortly after nine, and they roused Tayyib from his drug-induced slumber. He'd already been cleaned up, and put in a fresh set of clothes and a new suit. His blindfold remained on and he was placed in the back of the van with Stroble. Rapp sat in the front pa.s.senger seat. Rapp had shaved his beard and cut his thick black hair down to a bristly flattop. He was wearing blue coveralls and a beret. The same as Higsby and his men. Coleman and Stroble were dressed in the same manner.

Rapp turned around and looked at Tayyib as the van wound its way through the narrow streets. He didn't look too bad considering what he'd been through, but most of his wounds were covered by his clothes. In addition to the shattered right elbow and the nerve damage done to his right foot, Rapp had also sliced all the tendons on Tayyib's left wrist, rendering his hand useless, and leaving him with only one fully operational limb-his left leg. People reacted differently to drugs and this guy was pretty big. If he came out of it too quick, Rapp didn't want to have to wrestle with him.

Coleman pulled over before reaching the road that led to the hilltop estate. He pulled out his mobile phone and called Higsby. The Brit answered and Coleman listened to him for fifteen seconds and then said, "We'll be right there."

Coleman hung up and looked at Rapp. "He's praying."

"Good. Let's go."

They'd gone over it all in the plan. There was a small mosque on the property, located closer to the main gate than the residence. Ras.h.i.+d had anywhere from three to six of his own bodyguards near him at all times. Rapp hoped they were all with him. It would make things easier.

"What about the bodyguards?"

"Three of them are standing outside the mosque. The other three he's not sure about."

Rapp frowned. He turned around and looked at Stroble, silently communicating that it was Stroble's job to make sure the other three bodyguards didn't show up unexpectedly. Stroble nodded. They'd gone over it all in the permission briefing. Wicker was already on site. He'd scaled one of the perimeter walls and had slithered onto the rooftop of the tallest building. From his perch he could cover the entire length of the inner courtyard that led from the main gate to the three-story main house.

The engine groaned as the van continued up the steep hill. Suddenly, Higsby and one of his men were visible in their headlights standing in front of the main gate. Coleman pulled over and turned off the van. Everyone got out, including Tayyib, who practically had to be carried, which was just fine. Stroble got under one arm and Coleman the other. Rapp led the way past Higsby and his man without a word.

The three of them plus Tayyib went through the main gate and took the walkway to the left. Up ahead on the left side of the open-air court Rapp sighted three men in suits. They were all smoking.

Rapp headed straight for them, stopped ten feet away, and in his best British accent said, "This man just showed up at the main gate asking to see Prince Muhammad. He said his name is Nawaf Tayyib."

The men froze for a moment, their cigarettes dangling in their mouths.

"He keeps saying that the Malik al-Mawt Malik al-Mawt is here." is here." Angel of death. Angel of death. "The man named Mitch Rapp that you spoke of." "The man named Mitch Rapp that you spoke of."

One cigarette fell to the ground and the other two were thrown. All three men grabbed their guns. Two of them ran forward to grab Tayyib, and the third went into the small mosque to get Ras.h.i.+d. The blindfold was yanked from Tayyib's eyes and he howled in pain as one of the men grabbed him by his right elbow.

Coleman and Stroble were already retreating, their silenced MP-5 submachine guns aimed down but gripped firmly in both hands. Rapp had only his silenced 9mm Glock and a knife, which were both still holstered. He too began to retreat. His whole plan could fall apart any second and if that happened, the shooting would start and Higsby and his men would be forced to answer some very difficult questions.

Rapp started to step back. One of the men holding Tayyib got on a radio and started yelling in Arabic. Rapp took another step back slowly. Tayyib was trying to talk. Rapp heard his own name mentioned. Five seconds later three men burst through a door on the opposite side of the court and dashed across a path lined with sculpted cypress trees.

"Bees to the honey," Rapp said to himself as he continued his slow retreat. He looked toward the door to the mosque wondering just what in the h.e.l.l was taking Ras.h.i.+d so long. Rapp couldn't wait much longer. He extracted the remote detonator from his pocket. This time rather than using a vest, Rapp had simply wrapped Tayyib's entire torso in C-4 and covered every square inch with ball bearings. Rapp made it to a pillar and stopped. He looked over his shoulder quickly to check on Coleman and Stroble. They were standing next to each other one more pillar back. Rapp jerked his head for them to get behind it.

He looked back just as the bodyguard reappeared from the mosque and said, "Prince Muhammad wants to know if you've checked him for explosives."

Everybody froze. Rapp hadn't really thought he'd be able to get away with it twice, but the bomb would still serve its purpose.

The men on each side of Tayyib pulled back his suit coat and the man standing in front placed his hands on Tayyib's waist. Rapp stepped behind the large stone column and pressed the b.u.t.ton on the remote. There was a loud explosion, followed almost immediately by the sound of breaking gla.s.s as hundreds of ball bearings were hurled outward by the force of the explosion.

Rapp counted to three and peered back around the column. All six bodyguards were down and Tayyib was in two pieces-head and shoulders pointing toward the door to the mosque and his legs and a.s.s pointing the same way. The other six men, and much of the courtyard, were covered in what used to be Tayyib's torso and arms.

Rapp stepped over the bodies and went straight for the mosque. He stood next to the door and counted. He knew curiosity would get the best of Ras.h.i.+d and by the time Rapp got to seven Ras.h.i.+d proved him right. His pointy black beard poked its way into view followed by a pair of shocked brown eyes.

Rapp's left hand shot out and grabbed Ras.h.i.+d by the end of his beard. He yanked him forward and at the same time brought his left knee up, delivering a vicious blow to the older man's solar plexus. Ras.h.i.+d fell to the ground right on top of one of his nearly decapitated bodyguards. Rapp rolled him over and placed his boot on the man's chest.

He looked him in the eye and said, "Why?"

Ras.h.i.+d had a fire in his eyes. He spoke in Arabic and said, "Because you are an infidel."

Rapp shook his head with disgust. "And my wife."

There was no smile, no fear, no pleading, there was nothing other than total conviction in the man's eyes. "She was an infidel. You are all infidels."

Rapp nodded and said, "And you are going to h.e.l.l." Rapp grabbed a phosphorus grenade from the cargo pouch on his right thigh. The incendiary device reached a temperature of 2,000 degrees in less than two seconds. Rapp lifted his boot from Ras.h.i.+d's chest and sent it cras.h.i.+ng down once more, this time into Ras.h.i.+d's stomach. The Saudi's mouth opened wide, gasping for breath. Rapp was ready. He was holding the grenade by the top third, and he brought it cras.h.i.+ng down with such force that it shattered Ras.h.i.+d's front teeth and wedged itself firmly in his mouth.

Rapp got right in his face and said, "f.u.c.k you! And f.u.c.k your sick, twisted, perversion of Islam." Rapp yanked the pin and walked away. Three seconds later there was a pop followed by a blinding white flash, and then Ras.h.i.+d's head literally melted from his body.

Epilogue.

R app watched them for three days from a house on the hill overlooking the beach, which was probably one day too many. Coleman didn't say anything. Didn't make any observations. Didn't offer any advice. It had been nine months, one week, and three days since Rapp's wife had been killed. Wicker was with them, as were Hackett and Stroble. Wicker could have ended it more than a dozen times with his rifle. The winds were calm in the morning and the evening. It was just under 800 yards from one terrace to the other, and the trajectory was steep. For most people it would be an impossible shot, but for Wicker it was business as usual. The sniper waited for the word, but it never came. app watched them for three days from a house on the hill overlooking the beach, which was probably one day too many. Coleman didn't say anything. Didn't make any observations. Didn't offer any advice. It had been nine months, one week, and three days since Rapp's wife had been killed. Wicker was with them, as were Hackett and Stroble. Wicker could have ended it more than a dozen times with his rifle. The winds were calm in the morning and the evening. It was just under 800 yards from one terrace to the other, and the trajectory was steep. For most people it would be an impossible shot, but for Wicker it was business as usual. The sniper waited for the word, but it never came.

The hunt had changed Rapp. With each pa.s.sing day over the past months he had grown quieter and retreated from all but Kennedy, her son, Coleman, and the O'Rourkes. Liz O'Rourke was Anna's best friend from college. They were the only people other than Kennedy that he really confided in. Even with Coleman it was all about the hunt. He spoke with his brother a few times, and Steven had come to the memorial service in Was.h.i.+ngton-a service that Mitch ended up skipping. The priest waited for thirty minutes, and then Kennedy and Liz O'Rourke told the priest to start without him. Neither woman held out much hope that he would show. He was too private a man to show his grief in front of so many people whom he barely knew.

The new house sat unfinished and the old house on the Chesapeake, a house that Anna had grown to love, remained a charred ruin. Coleman went to Kennedy. He wanted to bring in an excavator and have the mess cleaned up. She thought about it for a second and told him no. It was Mitch's decision. When he was ready, he would do it himself. They all waited. Waited for Rapp to come out of his sh.e.l.l and get on with his life, but it didn't happen. The days ticked by and then the months. Rapp rented a house in Galesville on the bay, just up the road from where Anna had died. He didn't want to leave the water. He was afraid to lose that connection.

Almost every day he drove to the charred wreckage on the bay that had been their home. Sometimes he stayed in the car. Sometimes he got out and walked around. Every single time he sobbed uncontrollably over the memories that had been and the dreams that would never be. He never got to see his baby, never got to cradle the little infant in his arms. He never got to find out if it was a boy or a girl. He never even got to say good-bye to the woman of his dreams. He'd failed to protect her when she'd needed it most, and it was eating him alive. The unfulfilled dreams and the yearning to hold her one more time, to look into her beautiful, stunning, green eyes and smell her hair, was more painful than anything he'd ever experienced, but even so, it wasn't as bad as the guilt he felt over causing her death.

When he went in to work, it was only to be updated by Kennedy and Dumond on what they had learned about the a.s.sa.s.sins. Other than that he stayed away from Langley. What he was doing n.o.body knew and no one dared ask. The first break came from the Russian named Petrov. Kennedy had been stationed in Moscow earlier in her career and she had many contacts. Through several of Petrov's old colleagues she talked him into sitting down. Word had reached him about Abel's demise. It had been reported as an accidental death, but Petrov knew better. Men like Abel didn't die in chance house fires.

She told him that Abel had been hired by several wealthy Saudis and given a twenty-million-dollar contract to kill Mitch Rapp. Petrov was genuinely surprised by the amount. Kennedy told him what he already knew-that Abel had hired two a.s.sa.s.sins who were recommended by none other than himself. Then she told him something he didn't know. The a.s.sa.s.sins had missed Rapp and killed his wife by mistake. Petrov winced at the news. Families were off limits and a man like Mitch Rapp would stop at nothing until he hunted these people down and killed them.

This was a mess Petrov did not need. He could either tell Kennedy what little he knew, or risk Mitch Rapp paying him a visit in the dead of the night. The decision was easy. He told Kennedy what he knew about the a.s.sa.s.sins, which wasn't much, but proved to be crucial. The woman was in fact French and so was the man, Petrov suspected. He also suspected he was former military, and at one point had lived in America, probably during his teens. When Kennedy pressed him on this, he explained that the man's English was too good. Too colloquial. He had all the idioms and slang down. The type of thing you can pick up only by living in a country. Petrov handed over the phone numbers and e-mail addresses he had used to contact them over the years.

Kennedy flew from Moscow to Paris and sat down with her counterparts who ran France's DGSE and DST, the country's premier security and intelligence organizations. While many of France's politicians could be considered weak on terrorism, the same could not be said of the DGSE and DST. They were among the world's best and most effective counterterrorism organizations. Both men were fully aware of what had happened to Rapp and his wife. Rapp had worked closely with the DGSE before and the director said he would do everything in his power to find out who these people were. The head of the DST made the same commitment. Kennedy returned to the States and waited.

The break came three weeks later, nearly five weeks after Anna's death. The DGSE sent Kennedy two dossiers. The man's name was Louie Gould, and the woman was Claudia Morrell. Everything about the dossiers made sense. Gould was a former French paratrooper and the son of a French diplomat who had done two tours in Was.h.i.+ngton. Morrell's father was a general in the French Foreign Legion. He and his daughter had had a falling-out over Gould, and the two had disappeared off the map a little more than five years ago. Both French intelligence services promised Kennedy that they would join in the hunt.

The big break came nine months and one week after Anna's death. Kennedy had come up with the plan. They knew the woman was pregnant. She had asked Kennedy to let her live long enough to give birth and hold her baby. Kennedy had the FBI put out a worldwide bulletin on the couple and they got the allied intelligence services involved. They focused on hospitals. Specifically, doctors who delivered babies. Every month they sent out a new wave of e-mails and faxes as a reminder. They contained actual photos of Gould and Morrell and then computer-generated renderings of how they might have changed their appearances. The couple was wanted for questioning in a capital murder case, and a toll-free number was included, along with a reward for $100,000. They received hundreds of phone calls, none of which panned out. Many of the early ones were ruled out because the delivery dates didn't match the timetable. As they got to the seventh month, though, each lead had to be run down. When the phone call came in from the hospital in Tahiti, a French overseas territory, they all held their breath. An agent for the French DST rushed over to the hospital in Papeete and donned a pair of surgical scrubs. Within an hour the agent called and said he was almost positive the woman was Claudia Morrell.

Rapp looked down at the house. It was early in the morning, their third sunrise on the island. He'd been standing like a statue for nearly ten minutes, staring at the house. He glanced down at his watch. It was almost 7:00. Less than a minute later Gould appeared on the terrace below. He was in shorts and running shoes. He stretched for several minutes, and then bounded down the steps and started running up the beach in the opposite direction.

Rapp watched Gould for a long moment and then said, "I'm going in by myself."

"I don't think that's very smart."

Rapp ignored him. "If anything happens to me, finish the job."

He was dressed in a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a loose-fitting, faded blue T-s.h.i.+rt. Rapp walked to the front entry of the rental home. Coleman, Wicker, Hackett, and Stroble watched him. Rapp slid into a pair of flip-flops and grabbed his sungla.s.ses. He stepped outside and fired up the Vespa scooter that came with the place and took off down the hill. He didn't want to think about this any more than he already had. The scooter was quiet, especially when it was going downhill. Rapp coasted his way down the lush hillside. The road was very narrow. After several hundred yards it emptied onto a slightly wider road that could accommodate two-way traffic. The beach house was up on the right a short distance. The closest neighbor was about five hundred feet away.

Rapp turned off the scooter and stashed it in the bushes near the end of the driveway. He checked his watch. The man had returned between 7:25 and 7:30 each of the two previous mornings. Rapp picked his way through the jungle until he was even with the house. He then entered the side yard, which was some type of broad-bladed gra.s.s. He continued around to the beach side and drew his silenced Glock from his back waistband. The weapon felt light in his hand.

The house was stucco with a red Spanish style roof. The patio that overlooked the beach had a thick three-foot wall that ran along the perimeter with steps in the middle and on the side where he was. Rapp grabbed the digital radio from his cargo pocket and pressed the transmit b.u.t.ton.

"Any sign of him?"

"Not yet."

Rapp peered around the corner. The patio was empty. "Don't try anything with Wicker."

"It would be a h.e.l.l of a lot easier. Not to mention safer."

"Stand him down. If I need help I'll let you know."

Rapp put the radio on silent mode and climbed the stairs in a crouch. There were French doors immediately on his left. Rapp paused and glanced in. It was the living room. The woman would still be sleeping with the infant. Rapp had learned every detail he could about the two. He had been tempted to talk to their parents, but it would have been foolish to tip his hand that way. It was better to let them fall into a false sense of security. Rapp moved onto the next set of doors-the ones off the kitchen and dining room. The ones he suspected Gould used to come and go in the morning. He turned the k.n.o.b. It moved and the door pushed in quietly.

Rapp stepped carefully over the threshold and closed the door behind him. The fact that the door was unlocked spoke volumes about their state of mind. Not that a lock would have stopped him, but it would have at least slowed him down. Rapp was completely healed. At least physically. His knee felt better than it had in years, and the cast on his right arm was long gone. He glided across the dark stained wood floor and moved to the right, toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. There were doors on the right and the left and one at the end of the hall. The two on the sides were closed, and the one at the end was slightly cracked. Rapp guessed Gould had left it like that so as to not wake them when he returned.

Rapp placed his right palm on the door and kept his gun up and ready. Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The woman was lying on her side in bed, her dark hair offset against the bright white sheets and pillows. The infant was cradled in her arms and her lips rested softly against the impossibly small child's head. Rapp wavered for a second and almost lost his nerve. He was struck by how beautiful the woman was and how absolutely peaceful she and her young child appeared.

Rapp shook his head and regained his composure. He stepped silently across the dark wood floor and extended his gun. He placed the tip of his silencer against the woman's left temple and watched her eyes flutter open. She slowly turned her head until the silencer was pointed at her forehead. Rapp's right hand slid under her pillow and checked for a weapon. There was none. He checked the drawer in the nightstand, but it was also empty.

She looked up at Rapp almost as if she had been expecting him and said, "Thank you for letting me give birth to my daughter."

Rapp backed up a step and motioned for her to sit up. She did, and then picked up the sleeping baby and held it in her arms. Rapp checked his watch and grabbed the radio.

"Any sign of Gould?"

"He's coming back up the beach. ETA two minutes."

Rapp crossed the room and put the door back to where he'd found it and then checked the nightstand on the other side of the bed. He found a 9mm Beretta, emptied it, and then went back to the woman's side of the bed where French doors led out onto the patio. They were covered by thick curtains. The morning sun crawled in around the edges and backlit the room. Rapp kept his gun on the woman and then pulled back the curtains enough to get a peek. He stood in the corner with his back to the wall, the door on his left and the woman in front of him, and he waited.

She tried to talk several times, but he shook his head.

"If you want your baby to live...keep your mouth shut and don't say a thing."

"You would never kill this baby, or any other baby."

She said it with such calm conviction that it surprised Rapp. "No, I wouldn't, but I would kill you, so if you'd like to see your baby grow up, be quiet." Rapp looked at his watch and added, "There is a sniper outside, and he's very good. The best I've ever seen. If you say a word, he will run, and he will be killed before he reaches the beach."

She shrugged. "Then why did you come in here? Why didn't you just have him shot on the beach?"

"Because I'm not a coward. Because I don't have other people do my work for me. I do it face to face. I don't blow up houses and kill innocent bystanders."

Claudia looked away and swallowed hard.

Rapp checked one more time and then turned the radio off. Half a minute later, Rapp felt the door in the other room open. The bedroom door moved slightly with the air that rushed out of the house and then settled. Rapp kept the gun pointed at the mother's head and whispered, "Don't say a word or you both die."

She closed her eyes and kissed the baby's head.

The door to the bedroom opened slowly and Gould poked his head in. He saw his wife sitting up in bed and smiled. They had married. He stepped into the room and said, "What are you doing up?"

Claudia looked to the corner of the room and he followed her eyes.

"If you so much as twitch you're dead."

Gould was dripping with sweat from his run. He looked at Rapp and very slowly raised his hands above his head. "I'm sorry about your wife."

Rapp didn't reply. Now that he was in front of the man, he was at a loss for words.

Gould looked at Claudia and dropped to one knee and then the other. His hands were folded behind his head.

To Rapp it was almost as if this had been rehea.r.s.ed. Like they had discussed what to do if he ever found them.

"I'm sorry," Gould said again, his voice cracking. "Please understand, Claudia had nothing to do with it."

"Did you know she was pregnant?"

Gould slowly nodded, as if he was deeply ashamed. "I knew. Claudia didn't know until after. She cried for days."

Rapp glanced at the woman. She was crying now. A tear fell and splashed on the baby's face. She squirmed in her mother's arms.

"I know I'm in no position to ask for anything, but..." His voice trailed off.

"Let's hear it."

Gould swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Would you please spare Claudia, and if you don't, would you please bring the baby to her parents in France?"

Rapp kept the silencer leveled at the man's head. He wasn't going to kill the woman. Any thought of that vanished the second he saw the baby in her arms.

"Anything else?" Rapp asked.

"I'm very sorry for everything I did to you. I should have never taken the job. Claudia was right."

Rapp acted bored. "Is that it?"

"May I please kiss my baby and my wife good-bye?"

Rapp's eyes narrowed and he nodded slowly.

Gould kept his hands behind his head and he got up slowly. He stepped over to the bed and sat next to his wife. He wrapped his arms around Claudia and they both cried. Gould stroked her hair and told her how much he loved her. He then bent down and kissed the infant on the head.

"My sweet Anna," he said, "I am lucky to have seen you born and to have held you in my arms...even if it was only for a few days." Gould's shoulders began to shake and he wept over his baby. Claudia wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head just as she had kissed the baby earlier.

Rapp stood there in the corner of the room with his gun pointed at the father, mother, and child. What have I turned into? What have I turned into? he asked himself. This was his life, or what it would have been, if only Anna had lived. The pain of the last nine months came rolling back and slapped him with the memory of his wife and his unborn child. Standing there, his resolve teetering, he asked himself one simple question: he asked himself. This was his life, or what it would have been, if only Anna had lived. The pain of the last nine months came rolling back and slapped him with the memory of his wife and his unborn child. Standing there, his resolve teetering, he asked himself one simple question: What would Anna do? What would Anna do? It was her life he was avenging, not his own. He could hear her calling out to him as if she were alive and standing right next to him. It was her life he was avenging, not his own. He could hear her calling out to him as if she were alive and standing right next to him.

The baby woke up and started to cry. "Anna, don't cry," the father said. "Everything will be all right. Your mother will take care of you, and I will love you forever."