Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(2)

According to Kennedy’s video, that dirt track would take them to a wooded area too steep and rocky to be useful to the farms that once again surrounded them. A clearing near the middle was where she’d be waiting.

As expected, the turn was obvious, and they began climbing a rough track that penetrated the forest. After a few more hard-won miles, Rapp pointed to a small break in the foliage. “There.”

Nash pulled in and stopped. “This is it?”

Rapp responded by opening his door and stepping out. Nash did the same, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. The clearing was roughly a hundred yards in diameter and ringed by densely packed trees. The ground rolled a bit, broken by a few rocky outcroppings, but was otherwise unremarkable.

Rapp stayed near the vehicle while Nash walked away from it, finally turning when there was about twenty yards between them.

“Care to tell me what we’re doing here, Mitch?”

“We’re supposed to meet Irene.”

“Irene? What the hell are you talking about?”

Rapp came out from behind the vehicle and began moving away from it. “The message on that tablet was to meet her here.”

Nash’s expression turned skeptical with just a hint of caution. “I left her looking pretty comfortable in her office, Mitch. And why would she send me if she was planning on coming herself? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Rapp didn’t have time to answer before the men appeared from the trees. Three of them, covered head to toe in camo, eyes invisible behind goggles, assault weapons in hand. Their positions were perfect, allowing them to keep their guns trained while avoiding any potential crossfire.

Rapp stopped and watched the way they moved for a moment but didn’t reach for the Glock hanging beneath his right arm.

“There are four more in the trees, Mitch—all aiming at your head. Every one of them is a top operator and they know who you are. Even with superior numbers and position, I guarantee they’re scared. One twitch from you and everybody’s going to start shooting.”

Rapp nodded, feeling a flare of rage that quickly dissipated into something much worse. Something that hinted at what he’d experienced when his wife died. A deep sense of loss accompanied by the strange feeling that nothing would ever be the same for him.

“Just keep your hands at your sides and everything will be okay.”

“Why do I doubt that, Mike?”

Nash pulled his Colt and backed away another ten feet. He was a bureaucrat now, but not so far from his military roots that he’d feel comfortable putting too much trust in these men to protect him.

“This isn’t personal, Mitch.”

“How the fuck is this not personal? We’ve been friends for years. We’ve fought together. We’ve bled together. And now I’m standing here waiting to be executed by you. For what? A bunch of Saudi money? Your wife makes more than you can spend.”

“Not money, Mitch. And not the Saudis. The president of the United States. It’s probably hard for you to wrap your mind around this, but I don’t work for you. I don’t really even work for Irene. I work for the man elected to the White House.”

“So, you sided with a politician? That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Nash stiffened. “You think this is what I wanted? Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through to try to keep us from ending up here. Ward’s people should have died in that first attack. Then it would have been over.”

“What’s he to you?”

“To me? Nothing. But to the Saudis, a lot. After you rescued Ward’s research team, President Cook asked me to get information on him. He said he didn’t want Irene to know but I didn’t think that much of it. I just figured he was fishing for dirt so he could blackmail Ward into supporting him or something. But then Ward’s compound gets attacked and he gets snatched. It didn’t take long for me to figure out what I’d gotten myself into.”

“But you didn’t go to Irene.”

“For what? To tell her that with my help, the president of the United States had colluded with a foreign government to get rid of the richest man in history? What would be the point?”

Sadly, he was probably right. Cook had majorities in both houses of Congress and loyalists running the National Security Agency, Secret Service, and Joint Chiefs. The current rumor was that he was about to replace the FBI director with a woman who worshipped him and after that he’d undoubtedly set his sights on the CIA. For all intents and purposes, Cook was now above the law. If he were to start shooting tourists through the White House gate, it was unlikely he’d even get impeached.

Nash started to pace. “The world we’ve been fighting for is gone, Mitch. We collapsed the Soviet Union and killed damn near every Islamic terrorist who’s ever even looked at us sideways. The era of wars between superpowers is over—it has to be or none of us survive. Your friend Nicholas Ward thinks that’s going to bring in a golden age. But you know that’s bullshit even better than I do. People need hardship. They need something to struggle against. Someone to hate and feel superior to. Without those things they lose their identity and sense of purpose. And they can’t handle it. Without a real enemy, they start turning on each other. That video of Irene you just watched? One of the president’s people made it in less than a day with software you can get for free online. In another few years, half the videos people see on the Internet will be fake. Served up by right-wing nuts, left-wing nuts, foreign powers, and anyone else with a laptop and a sixth-grade education. If we don’t take control of that, we’ll end up in a civil war. But instead of the North against the South, it’ll be four hundred different factions all swinging in the dark. Flat-earthers. Anti-vaxxers. Nazis. Communists. Antifa. The gluten intolerant—”