Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(30)

Claudia walked over and hugged the former SEAL. “It’s good to see you, Scott.”

“You, too. I’m sorry about the circumstances.”

“Why don’t you get settled in,” Rapp said, grabbing a couple of beers from the bucket and heading toward the open door. “Scott and I have a few things to talk about.”

They stepped outside and Rapp scanned the sky, searching the stars for movement that might indicate an aircraft. Coleman seemed to read his mind.

“The Ugandans have created a fifty-mile no-fly zone around the place. We have solid radar coverage and pretty sophisticated surface-to-air capability. The terrain, combined with the perimeter wall, would stop a Panzer division. Cameras and sensors out in the forest are state-of-the-art.”

“Personnel?”

“A contingent of fifteen top-notch operators and we can theoretically get air support from the Ugandans inside of thirty minutes. We also just finished mounting miniguns with overlapping fields of fire on the walls. They’re controlled remotely with some really slick new software. You should check it out when you get a chance.”

“Escape routes?”

“Four by land and we have three choppers.”

Rapp handed him one of the beers and took a pull from his own. A little over a month ago, Nicholas Ward had financed a wildly successful operation against a paramilitary cult terrorizing western Uganda. He also provided a lot of jobs, financed NGOs, and built hospitals and schools. Not to mention quietly funneling millions into the Swiss bank accounts of key government officials. While Ward could be a bit of a Boy Scout, he understood how the world worked. You didn’t make a trillion dollars over the course of sixty-one years without knowing how shit got done.

“So, you feel good about security?”

“Who’s the enemy?”

“What if I said Anthony Cook?”

Coleman smiled and shook his head slowly. “Look, Mitch, this may be the most well-protected private installation on the planet, but against stealth bombers? No.”

“Is Ward here?” Rapp said, changing the subject. “I’ve been seeing him all over the news.”

“No, he’s in the States. His sudden resurrection has been kind of complicated. The press is selling a lot of papers by pitting him against the Cooks, and the SEC is threatening to come after him for securities fraud.”

“Is he pissed?”

Coleman drained some of his beer and shook his head. “Nah. He knows he’d be dead if it weren’t for you. And having a trillion bucks makes you kind of above the law. Having said that, I think he’s interested in defusing the situation if he can. No one wants a fight with the White House.”

“Unless you can’t avoid it,” Rapp said. “Do you think the Cooks can get to the government here?”

“Irene says no. The Ugandan president is smart enough to know they’ll use him and then hang him out to dry. Nick, on the other hand, is a straight-up guy with a genuine interest in the country.”

“How sure of that is she?”

Coleman pointed with the neck of his bottle. “You should ask her yourself. She’s staying two bungalows down.”

“She’s here? Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Depends on who you ask. Nick thinks he’s in the process of hiring her and she thinks she’s on vacation. Not sure which one of them will come out on top.”





CHAPTER 13


RAPP woke the moment the sun penetrated the bungalow’s glass front. Claudia had pushed him to the far right of the bed in order to make space for Anna, who had crawled in sometime after midnight. Normally he wouldn’t have been particularly tolerant of spending the night teetering on the edge of the mattress, but he was willing to make an exception in this case. If curling up next to her mother could help Anna recover from what had happened, a fall or two onto the wood floor would be a small price to pay.

When the powerful rays made it to within a few inches of him, he untangled himself from the duvet and walked silently to the closet. It opened on well-oiled hinges and he dug out some clothes before descending a spiral staircase in his boxer shorts.

There was a French press on the counter, but with the open floor plan, he’d wake up the whole house trying to find a pan to heat water. Instead he pulled on his jeans and a sweatshirt before slipping through the front door.

Outside, the air was still and crisp. The scent of flowering plants was overwhelming and the only rustle in the surrounding trees came from birds perched in them. Nicholas Ward had spent untold millions creating this mountaintop haven and, as usual, he’d succeeded wildly. The fact that, the day before, Rapp had been in a battle that left Claudia’s house trashed and ten men dead seemed like a hallucination. Someone else might have almost been able to convince themselves it hadn’t happened. Unfortunately, wishful thinking wasn’t one of his gifts.

Rapp stepped into a pair of flip-flops and walked along the pathway that ran in front of the bungalows. He found what he was looking for two units down. Irene Kennedy had never been much of a sleeper and, while not a coffee drinker, she was never without her stash of highly caffeinated tea.

She was sitting in front of a fire pit lit against the morning chill. An oversized porcelain cup was keeping her hands warm and she took a sip of the steaming liquid before nodding toward a go-cup on the table next to her.