Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(33)

“What about the police investigation? The South Africans—”

“Cathy…” her husband said in a tone that suggested her battle was lost. She fell silent, but Hargrave smelled blood and decided to push.

“The South Africans have probably already figured out where the dead men came from. It’s literally tattooed onto their skin. But, again, that has no downside to us. In fact, it might lead them to think that Rapp’s involved in the Latin American drug trade. If that’s the case, it could motivate them to start looking deeper into his identity or even deport him. Both of those things would just increase the turmoil in his life and make him even less likely to move against us.”

His explanation ended with an arrogant smile that her husband wouldn’t be able to see from his position.

It had been a significant skirmish in the escalating war between them and there was no question that he’d won. While she suspected that his machinations involving Rapp were dangerous and unnecessary, there was no denying that his little plot had worked. In the unlikely event that Rapp didn’t intend to honor his truce, any vendetta he was planning would now have to wait. Gustavo Marroqui wouldn’t stop until Claudia Gould was dead.

“Where is he?” Catherine said, wanting to wipe the smug grin off Hargrave’s face. “One of the benefits of having Rapp in Franschhoek was that we could keep him under surveillance.”

“We believe he’s at Nicholas Ward’s compound in Uganda along with Kennedy and Scott Coleman.”

“You believe?”

“Our people tracked him to a private airstrip where he, Claudia, and her daughter got on a private jet. They landed at the Entebbe airport and then drove into Kampala, where we lost them. Based on satellite images, though, a helicopter landed at Ward’s compound not long after. I think it’s reasonable to believe he was on it.”

“If all of them are together there, does that provide an opportunity?” President Cook asked.

“For God’s sake, Tony,” Catherine said, but no one seemed to hear.

“At this point, I don’t think so, sir. The security at Ward’s camp is extraordinary. Obviously, we’re capable of taking them out but hiding our involvement would be impossible. A much more viable strategy would be to go after Rapp in Guatemala. He’s eventually going to have to go there and it’s not his normal operating environment. Once he’s in-country, he’ll be vulnerable to our operatives or maybe just to Marroqui. If we leak who he is and his objective to the right government officials, he’s going to find Guatemala a very dangerous place.”

“But even if he manages to kill Marroqui, it’s going to take time,” the president said. “By then, my security upgrades will be in place and we’ll have purged everyone loyal to Rapp and Kennedy from the government.”

“Yes, sir. At that point, we’ll be in a much stronger position.”

Catherine sank a little deeper into the cushion behind her. Hargrave would never concede that security was sufficient. In fact, she wondered if he was really even going to put people in Guatemala. If Mitch Rapp were ever killed, the threat to her husband—and his dependence on Hargrave—would disappear.





CHAPTER 15


SOUTHWESTERN UGANDA WITH her customary efficiency, Claudia had already compiled a shockingly detailed briefing on the criminal organization run by Gustavo Marroqui. Drugs, prostitution, murder for hire, human trafficking, pornography—largely the child variety—and government corruption were only the tip of the iceberg. If it was illegal, Marroqui had his hand in it. He was estimated to be worth a good quarter of a billion dollars, but Rapp wouldn’t be surprised if he still shoplifted in convenience stores.

The Guatemalan’s outfit encompassed no fewer than thirty interrelated street gangs in addition to the more elite group that he surrounded himself with. He’d spent years in a bloody battle for the domination of his country and that was a big part of what had made it the murder capital of the world. Now, though, he’d more or less won. For sure, MS-13 continued to be a significant force, but their territory was being chipped away, leaving them to fight other, even more marginalized gangs for Marroqui’s scraps.

Rapp flipped to the last page of the report and skimmed the rest of its contents. The takeaway was that the situation was worse than he thought. And not by a small amount. Going after Marroqui in Guatemala in some ways would be harder than moving against Anthony Cook in Washington. Assassinating a president would be a clean, sophisticated operation. Professional operators, split-second timing, cutting-edge equipment. Taking down Marroqui on his home turf was something completely different. Most likely a blood-soaked clusterfuck.

He tossed the folder onto the table and couldn’t help allowing a smile to play at his lips. In a tree next to him, a brightly colored bird was singing its heart out. The sky was still cloudless and the temperatures had risen into the low seventies. A breeze was blowing from the north, bringing with it the scent of the rain forest.

Fuck, he felt better.

The weight of what happened in South Africa had been too heavy for even him to carry—something he hadn’t realized until Kennedy lifted it off him. Rapp was still suspicious that the Cooks could be behind what happened, but she’d made a strong case against that theory. While it was certainly possible that Darren Hargrave had discovered Claudia’s true identity and notified Marroqui, it wasn’t the most likely scenario. The truth was that Claudia still used her old contacts in the criminal world from time to time. Obviously, she leaned toward people she trusted, but crooks were crooks. None were particularly reliable partners, and it would take only one slip for it to get out that she was alive.