Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(18)

“Like I said, it’s not ideal,” she admitted. “But you still have friends. Irene, Scott, and the guys. If he drops a bomb on us, they’d react. And that’s not a group you start a war with lightly.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m not done.”

He fell silent.

“This is our life, Mitch. We consciously decided to gather all our skeletons and combine them in one closet.”

“Kind of a crowded closet, though, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But it is what it is. You can’t keep seeing this family as a temporary accommodation that can be unraveled every time something bad happens. We’re in this together. We’re stronger that way. We have to be.”

He considered that for almost a minute before speaking again. “Then where do we stand?”

“Like I told you on the phone, we’re being watched by at least one operative, probably two. I assume they also have our everyday phones and unencrypted Internet traffic.”

“So the Cooks know I’m here.”

“No question. Irene, Joe, and Wick are in the US and all are also under surveillance. Bruno and Scott are in Uganda at Nicholas Ward’s compound, so they’re probably clear for now. The US doesn’t have much intelligence infrastructure there and, as you know, it’s a fortress.”

Rapp nodded. “Then for now, we run with this strategy. As long as me and the guys are in plain sight, Cook doesn’t have much to worry about. Maybe we can turn down the heat on this thing.”

“A gesture of good faith,” she said.

He smiled. “More likely an easy target.”



Rapp stepped out onto the porch, squinting at the dogs rushing him from the east. This time he didn’t call in his prepubescent bodyguard, instead glaring intensely at them. Their speed faltered and both stopped a few feet away, content to eye him from that distance. After a few seconds he stepped forward and gave each of their heads a good scratching. When he pulled a phone from his pocket and started walking, they fell in behind.

The Samsung was an off-the-shelf model with no special security and connected via Claudia’s family plan. He rarely used it because it was too easily compromised, but in this case that was what he was hoping for. After selecting a name from his contacts, it seemed like it rang for an abnormally long time before being picked up.

“Sunning yourself?” he said.

“Actually, I was outside doing a little gardening.”

“Did you say gardening?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No. Not at all. It sounds like retirement’s agreeing with you.”

“Retirement,” she said. “Is that what we’ve decided to call it?”

“Based on what I’ve been seeing on the news, yeah. The Cooks aren’t exactly singing your praises, but they’re being cordial.”

“I imagine that the first lady has convinced her husband there’s no profit in a war between us. That the best thing for them is to just let me fade away.”

Rapp shaded his eyes and watched the sun glint off the broken glass that topped the wall. Dust from the surrounding vineyards was creating a haze over the mountains as the wind started to kick up. He wondered if it would be enough to dampen Anna’s enthusiasm for a bike ride.

“What about a war with me, Irene? Do they see a profit in that?”

There was a long pause before she answered. “There’s no question that the president sees you as a threat. Right now the resources of the US government are focused almost entirely on his personal security.”

“I don’t know much about politics, but that doesn’t seem like a winning strategy. People don’t elect a president to spend four years hiding under a desk.”

“I imagine his campaign advisors would agree. But what about you? What are your thoughts on this?”

He took a seat on a stone bench, leaning back against the perimeter wall as the dogs dropped into the grass at his feet. They didn’t stay long, though. Anna appeared in the front door and started toward the outbuilding where the athletic gear was kept. She laughed as they danced around her, trying to smack them on their noses, but every time proving to be just a fraction too slow. He watched her in silence as she crossed the lawn. A reminder that he had no choice but to ignore every instinct he’d developed over the years. Mitch Rapp the family man. The peacemaker. The fount of reason and compromise. It was hard not to laugh.

“I want a truce. Can you broker it?”

When Kennedy responded, she didn’t bother to hide her relief. “I’ll call Catherine this morning and see what I can do.”





CHAPTER 8


CIA HEADQUARTERS

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

USA

EVERYTHING looked familiar but, like so many things in Langley, it was an illusion. In fact, nothing was the same. The organization she’d spent so many years shaping was gone. The ideas, values, and beliefs it was built on had been cast aside with terrifying speed and ease.

Irene Kennedy was wearing a visitor’s badge and being led through the building by a nervous young woman she’d never seen before. Catherine Cook had refused her request for a face-to-face meeting and instead insisted that Kennedy go through Darren Hargrave, the man who had replaced her. She assumed that it was a reminder from the president that she was now persona non grata in Washington. Catherine Cook likely would have preferred to handle this herself. It was a meeting that had the potential to define her husband’s time in office and the first lady was too smart to trust it to a man as unstable as Hargrave.