Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(50)

“Hargrave is a scumbag, but you’ve got to give him credit,” Coleman said. “This was a slick move. If Mitch really was going after the president, his window’s closing as they harden their security. This allows them to tie Mitch up without implicating themselves. Maybe even get him killed.”

“Look,” Kennedy said in the soothing tone she tended to adopt when things were blowing up. “I agree that there’s a good chance that Darren Hargrave is behind this. But whether it’s been done with Cook’s knowledge is—”

“Come on,” Rapp interrupted. “Hargrave is so far up the president’s ass, Cook can taste his hair spray. He—”

“Be that as it may,” Kennedy said, wrestling back control of the conversation, “we need to understand what we’re dealing with and what our options are. Rushing into a war with the president of the United States isn’t going to go well.”

“I completely disagree,” Scott Coleman said, and everyone immediately turned toward him. He had a deep respect for—and more than a little fear of—Irene Kennedy. Rapp couldn’t remember him ever taking a strong stance against one of her positions.

“These assholes aren’t going to just go after Mitch and let me and the guys off the hook. If they don’t kill us outright, they’ll figure out a way to arrest us for treason or murder and put on some big show trial. We aren’t exactly a bunch of nuns. We’ve all done some things that might not look so good in the news cycle. I say we go after those motherfuckers. We kill Cook, his creepy-ass wife, and then we throw Darren Hargrave in a wood chipper. Before they can close the gates around themselves.”

A stunned silence enveloped the table for a few moments before Kennedy broke it. “I understand that there’s a clock ticking, Scott. I can hear it just as clearly as everyone else. But we need to make sure there are no other options.”

“And if there aren’t?”

“Then we can’t make the same mistake they did and miss. We have to have a clear idea of what we’re doing and how we can be absolutely sure they all end up in the wood chipper.”

The former SEAL leaned back in his chair again. “I can live with that.”

“In the meantime,” Kennedy continued, “I think it makes sense to understand who could potentially move against Claudia and neutralize them before they become a threat. Maybe even use them to our advantage.”

The sun crept to the edge of the table and Rapp looked up at the sky. It was hard not to think about the similarities between his situation and that of Gustavo Marroqui. The difference was that his enemies didn’t need to chuck a Soviet surplus bomb out of a narcotics plane. They could fly over in a B-2 and drop something state-of-the-art.

Claudia dug an uncharacteristically crumpled piece of paper from her jeans and unfolded it on the table. She seemed less put out by the situation than the rest of them and Rapp suspected he knew why. This was no longer her fault. That millstone was back around his own neck.

“I’ve made a list of people who might still be motivated to kill me and have the ability to do it.”

“How many?” Rapp said.

“Six.”

Fewer than he’d expected. Her husband had been a sociopathic bastard, but there was no denying the skills. He wasn’t a man to leave a lot of enemies behind.

“Names?”

“Malthe Kierkegaard, Oren Avraham, Earnst Lang, Aat Rueng, Josef Svoboda, and Enzo Ruiz.”

Coleman let out a low whistle. “Not to be negative, but there are some people on there you don’t want coming after you.”

“Could be worse,” Rapp said. “Let’s start at the beginning. Malthe Kierkegaard.”

Coleman shook his head. “There wasn’t any money on offer in that email to Grisha. Kiki wouldn’t step on a cockroach without a guaranteed payday. It costs a hundred grand just to get him to consider taking a job. Don’t ask me how I know.”

“Agreed,” Kennedy said. “But we need to contact him and tell him to let us know if anyone sends him that dossier. Also, we need to make it clear that he should respond by saying that he’s going to do the job. That’ll buy us time and maybe even help us find the person who sent it. Easy work and tell him we’ll pay him whatever he wants.”

“No problem, I’ll handle it.”

“Who was next?” Rapp said.

“Oren Avraham.”

“He’s dead,” Kennedy said.

“Really?” Rapp responded. “I hadn’t heard that. Are you’re sure?”

She nodded. “Bottom of the Indian Ocean.”

“Well, there you go. Next?”

“Earnst Lang.”

“Didn’t you use one of his offshore companies to finance an op a few years ago?” Coleman asked.

“Yes,” Kennedy confirmed. “It was something the CIA couldn’t have a connection to.”

“Can you still get to him?” Rapp asked.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts before setting the audio to speaker. It only rang twice before being picked up.

“Is this a joke?” came the German-accented voice.

“No, it’s really me, Earnst.”

“Why?” he said suspiciously. “I haven’t done anything that would cause you problems. And I heard you were fired.”