Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(42)

The former SEAL’s nose was pouring blood and he looked dazed, but with Rapp’s help he managed to get his hands on the joystick. At first, the screen was dark.

Twenty-five seconds…

Coleman manipulated the stick and a moment later the image of Marroqui’s security lights appeared.

“Twenty seconds to impact!” Rapp shouted.

Coleman brought the crosshairs into the middle of the circle and depressed a button. Words appeared on-screen that Rapp assumed confirmed a target lock and Coleman’s legs collapsed beneath him. He tied the man off with what was left of his safety line and started for the door but was blinded by a powerful flash before he could close it.

The old Soviet piece of shit had actually worked.

He dropped to his stomach and slid toward the edge of the door again. The aftermath of their attack wasn’t exactly subtle. The small ring of electric light had been replaced by a raging fire probably twenty times the diameter.

He’d wanted to make a statement and it looked like he’d succeeded. They’d blown the entire top of the mountain off.





CHAPTER 19


THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

USA

ACTING CIA director Darren Hargrave strode past the president’s assistant, feeling the same sense of euphoria he always did. No, that wasn’t true. It had become even more powerful. More intoxicating.

The office had been completely transformed both in a literal and figurative sense. When he’d first started doing legal work for the Cooks so many years ago, their political aspirations were little more than dreams. Whispers. But Anthony’s potential was impossible to ignore. He combined the alpha quality of Teddy Roosevelt with John F. Kennedy’s good looks and FDR’s uncanny ability to exude strength and compassion simultaneously. To that he added the understanding that the constraints holding his power in check were imaginary. A faded dream of men long dead.

Cook was finally where he was meant to be. And as CIA director, Hargrave was in a position to keep him there for four years, eight years, and beyond. He’d always known that Cook would lead him to greatness, but the reality had now exceeded even his wildest expectations.

He opened the door to the Oval Office, not bothering to ask permission or to wait for his arrival to be announced. Cook was alone, sitting at his desk, speaking on the phone. A rare opportunity for a private audience. His wife—the demon whispering in his ear—was in Ohio trying to cover for her husband’s increasingly obvious absence from public life.

Cook finally put down the phone, focusing his attention on Hargrave but not offering any kind of greeting. It wasn’t a surprising reaction. He’d undoubtedly read the CIA’s preliminary report about the recent disturbance in Guatemala.

“What you sent me wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on,” the president said finally. “Just a bunch of speculation from corrupt Guatemalan politicians.”

“It literally happened only a few hours ago and in an extremely remote part of the country. We’re learning more every minute.”

“Learning more,” Cook said, his stare intensifying in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. “Over the course of a few days, Mitch Rapp seems to have done something the combined intelligence agencies of the world couldn’t: kill Gustavo Marroqui. And not only that, he also managed to vaporize the mountain the man lived on.”

“I’ll remind you that that’s not proven, sir. Marroqui’s made a lot of enemies and—”

“Are you suggesting this was done by rival gang?” Cook said angrily. “Marroqui has that country in his pocket. No one’s even come close to making an attempt on him in years. Now, a week after he attacks Mitch Rapp, his compound and everything within a half a mile of it goes up in a pillar of fire?”

“I agree that it’s a remote possibility,” Hargrave said, backing down. “A much more likely scenario is that Rapp managed to get hold of a military-grade weapon and either smuggle it into Marroqui’s compound or drop it from a plane.”

“So now it’s possible that Rapp has access to military-grade weapons,” Cook said, pressing his palms against his temples.

“It’s possible,” Hargrave conceded. “But that’s useful information as we continue to adapt your security.”

“I thought you had people in Guatemala. That you were going to deal with him there.”

“Intercepting him was always a long shot, sir. Carrying out operations from the shadows is what he does and, let’s be honest, he does it well. Further, he has Irene Kennedy, who knows our capabilities around the world better than anyone, and Claudia Gould, who’s likely to have extensive contacts in Guatemala’s criminal underground.”

Cook continued to massage his temples for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “Where is he now?”

“We don’t know, sir. But we do have surveillance on most of his team. Joe Maslick, Bruno McGraw, and Charlie Wicker.”

“You mean the three men he didn’t need in order to kill someone who had nearly as much security as I do and lived in a country that Rapp’s never operated in?”

It infuriated Hargrave that a meaningless enforcer like Mitch Rapp had the power to affect a man as great as Anthony Cook, but he reminded himself that good could come from it. Only through adversity would the president learn to differentiate those who truly cared for him from the leeches who swarmed around him.