Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(24)

NEAR FRANSCHHOEK

SOUTH AFRICA

RAPP dug into a drawer and finally located the item he was searching for: a Safariland level II vest. While it wouldn’t stop much, it was fairly comfortable and better than nothing. He put it on over a mesh tank top and then covered it all with a dull green sweatshirt. Matching shorts and shoes broke with the current fashion of brightly colored running clothing but would help camouflage him if his trail run didn’t go as planned. And if things really went south, he had a Glock 30 and spare mag in his fanny pack.

It had been two weeks since his truce with the Cooks had been finalized. In that time, he hadn’t ventured beyond the walls of Claudia’s property. It had been a surprisingly relaxing break that allowed him to sort out some neglected aspects of his life and finally put the finishing touches on his home gym. Still, he couldn’t hide forever. At some point he’d have to stick his head back out into the world and see if the Cooks tried to take it off.

That day was today.

He planned to have Claudia drive him to the northeast edge of a local trail system and then three hours later a cab would be waiting for him on the southwest side. At last count, the American team watching him had swelled to three people, but none looked like shooters. And even if he was wrong about that, they’d have a hard time setting up a last-minute ambush in a public recreation area. Not hard enough that he was willing to leave the vest and gun at home, though.

Rapp selected a CamelBak from his collection and was filling it in the bathroom sink when AC/DC’s “Back in Black” began playing over his cell phone. It was connected to the house’s security and each subsystem had its own ringtone. That particular song related to the motion sensors on the private road leading to their gate. It was Sunday, so no mail or deliveries were scheduled, though that didn’t necessarily mean anything. His new life made it impossible to control variables the way he was used to. Playdates, neighbors dropping by, and livestock wandering off nearby farms were a constant problem. If it weren’t for the Cooks, he’d have probably muted that particular alarm during daylight hours.

He grabbed the phone off the counter and connected to the appropriate surveillance cameras. What he saw wasn’t a lost cow or vineyard worker looking for a spot to take a break. Instead he was met with the image of two late-model SUVs driving fast toward his gate. Likely rentals, but that didn’t tell him anything about who was inside other than that they weren’t local. It would probably turn out to be nothing, but the speed at which they were traveling made him uncomfortable.

“Anna!” he shouted, running out into the hallway.

“In my room, Mitch.”

He found her sitting at her desk, arranging stuffed animals instead of finishing the homework she’d been putting off all weekend.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “Downstairs.”

“Why? What—”

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off her chair. “Let’s go!”

When they reached the steps, he scooped her under one arm and took them three at a time.

“Claudia!”

“Living room,” she called back, and he felt a wave of relief. Thanks to the overcast and cool temperatures, she wasn’t outside screwing with her landscaping.

“Safe room! Now!”

“What is it?” he heard her say as he pulled open the steel-core door and tossed the squirming girl inside. They’d trained for this, and Claudia passed by without waiting for an answer. Rapp stuffed his phone in the zipper pocket of his sweatshirt and used some duct tape he found in a drawer to secure a Bluetooth earbud. A moment later he picked up a call from Claudia.

“The monitors are coming online. One SUV is stopped in front of the gate and another is skidding in behind it. No other potential threats visible.”

Skidding to a stop wasn’t a maneuver common to FedEx contractors or even the alcoholic relatives of their next-door neighbor. The chances of this being a false alarm were fading fast.

“The passenger of the lead SUV is stepping out. He looks… I’d swear Latino. Lots of tattoos, no obvious weapons, but he’s got something in his hand. Okay… He’s taping it to the latch. It’s got to be an explosive.”

Her voice betrayed nothing—no fear, doubt, or hesitance. Sometimes it was easy to forget, but when she needed to be, Claudia Gould was a consummate professional.

“It’s going to work,” Rapp said in an equally businesslike tone. “That isn’t the Virginia gate.”

In fact, it was just a simple set of iron bars with a standard locking mechanism and retail hinges. Once the bolt was defeated, the only thing holding it shut would be the flimsy machinery that allowed them to open and close it by remote control.

He was temped to go to the windows, but resisted. Claudia had high-definition audio-video of the house and grounds, as well as control over every relevant electronic system. No reason to put himself in harm’s way until it was absolutely necessary.

“Should I activate the alarm, Mitch?”

It was connected to a private armed response company that would dispatch someone and notify the police. In the end, though, they would just add to the unpredictability of the situation. At best they’d get in his way and at worst they’d get themselves killed.

“Negative,” he said. “Not unless I go down.”