Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(60)

“I know you’re not impressed with what Sam’s setting up, but I think it’s a step in the right direction.”

“I concede the point. But it can’t be the only step. You’re not even engaged in social media anymore. You’re leaving it to people who don’t have the authority to put out anything but bland government-speak. Your gift is understanding what people want and giving it to them. You can’t let your fear of Mitch Rapp cause you to lose that. We’ve got a couple of potentially strong opponents in the next elec—”

“I can’t win if I’m dead.”

“You think Rapp can’t control his impulses, but I think he can. What would happen if he just went to ground and stayed there? I’m afraid you’d run down to the White House’s bunker and huddle there until you lose the election. Then he’d have you right where he wants you. If Rapp really is after you—and at this point you and Darren may have made that a certainty—your only defense is your ability to stay in power.”

He stopped pacing and glared down at her. “If he does manage to get to me, I imagine you’ll end up behind my desk.”

She couldn’t tell if it was an accusation or just an observation. Either way it was a rather obvious and banal statement that didn’t merit a response. His assassination would almost certainly be an event powerful enough to ride into the White House. The much more difficult problem was if he survived to lose the next election.

If her husband insisted on destroying himself, was she obligated to go down with him? To give up everything she’d worked for because of his cowardice and miscalculation? Their relationship was largely one of convenience and shared vision. Each of them had a unique role to play in realizing that vision. Could he still be counted on to play his part? How ironic that she was now concerned that the president of the United States could become an obstacle to the accumulation of power.

“That’s not the plan, Tony. And you’re not going to die. For now at least, you have more security than anyone in history. Mitch Rapp is a talented killer, but he’s not an avenging angel. He can’t walk through walls or be in two places at once.”

Cook didn’t respond, instead turning his back to her and staring through the window.





CHAPTER 27


SOUTHWESTERN UGANDA

RAPP stepped off the chopper, shouldering his duffel and running crouched through the swirling dust. Claudia was visible, standing at a safe distance in the dawn light, but no one else was in evidence.

As the aircraft lifted off behind him, Rapp couldn’t help wondering how much longer Nick Ward was going to let them use his Ugandan compound. Right now, he was in the US dealing with various lawsuits and SEC inquiries relating to the measures they’d taken to keep him alive. When he returned, though, he might not be interested in standing so close to people targeted by a president who already despised him.

“I read that Enzo Ruiz recently died of natural causes,” Claudia said as he approached.

“Sad, isn’t it?”

“Do you have any exposure there that I need to deal with?”

“No. Jordi Cardenas is taking care of the witnesses and investigators. There’s not much reason for anyone to kick up dust over this. What about Svoboda?”

“You didn’t see?” she said, pulling out her phone and scrolling for a moment before handing it to him.

The screen depicted the front page of some tabloid written in Czech. Nearly the whole thing was taken up by a full-color photo of a man hanging from his neck in what looked like a posh hotel suite. His face was purple, and he was naked except for a pair of boxer shorts still hanging on his ankles. A little strategic blurring had been done in an unsuccessful effort to make the image a little less lurid.

“Erotic asphyxiation?” Rapp said, handing the phone back.

“Scott thought it was fitting.”

It was hard to argue the point. “Cops?”

“No. Everyone’s so happy he’s gone, the police have already categorized his death as an accident and closed the case.”

“Where’s everybody now?”

“Scott’s at his place in Greece. Bruno moved on to New Zealand to go fishing. Wick’s at his house in Wyoming and Mas is at home in Virginia.”

Rapp didn’t particularly like having his forces so spread out, but under the circumstances it was marginally better than bunching them up.

“What about Irene? Is she still here?”

“She is.”

“Can you ask her to come by the bungalow? We need to talk.”



The expansive front deck was still in shade, clinging to the morning cold. Anna was asleep inside, though, so Rapp built a fire in the pit and pulled a few chairs up to it. Claudia appeared in the doorway with two cups of steaming coffee just as Irene started up their flagstone path with her customary cup of tea. Rapp gave her a kiss on the cheek before pointing her to a chair.

“It seems that everything’s gone smoothly,” she said, scooting a little closer to the flames.

“Ruiz is dead, but it didn’t solve as many problems as we hoped,” Rapp said, handing her the emails the old man had printed. He watched as she leafed through them, her mouth tightening in a way that would have been invisible to anyone who hadn’t known her for decades. He could decipher the expression easily, though. The shit had now officially hit the fan.