Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(62)
“Claudia…” Rapp started, but again she silenced him.
“The only person who makes sense is Maggie Nash. A woman who already has four kids and who was recently widowed because her husband thought you were going to kill him.” She let out a choking laugh. “Quite a business we’ve chosen, isn’t it?”
“Can I speak now?”
“Yes.”
“You’re talking like you just got diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.”
“No. People survive pancreatic cancer. No one’s ever survived Legion.”
“No one’s ever survived me, either. Irene’s going to figure out how to find these assholes and I’m going to put a bullet in them. After that, I’m going see Anthony Cook off in a big state funeral.”
She pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “And Maggie?”
Rapp adjusted uncomfortably in his chair. Uncertainty wasn’t a sensation he was particularly accustomed to, but despite what many people might have thought, neither was arrogance. It would be stupid not to consider the possibility that this was the battle that would finally kill him. “I agree that it might not be a bad idea for us to talk to her. Just in case.”
She nodded. “One last thing.”
“What?”
“I want to leave here. I want us to put together new identities and I want to show Anna the world in the time I have left with her.”
“Claudia…”
“Promise me.”
He leaned back in the Adirondack chair and let out a long breath. What could he do? “Fine. I promise.”
CHAPTER 28
RAPP slowed his stroke to the point that he was in danger of sinking to the bottom of the pool. Anna pulled even with him a couple of seconds later, making up for her lack of technique with flailing determination. They reached the other side together, and Rapp used his superior reach to touch the tile edge just before her. She put her arms up on the deck, panting wildly as he pushed himself up and sat.
“You almost got me.”
She clearly wanted to agree but couldn’t get in enough air.
The sun was dropping toward the horizon, creating drawn-out shadows as the light passed through Nicholas Ward’s house. It was a strange building, with exterior walls made of wood louvers that, when open, turned the structure into something akin to a fenced patio. Rapp looked through it, past the industrial kitchen and stylish furniture to the mountains beyond.
“Your arms are too long!” Anna said, finally capable of lodging her protest. “You barely even have to swim to get across.”
“A poor craftsman blames her tools.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
He pointed. “Do another lap. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She took a few more seconds to catch her breath and then pushed off defiantly.
“Stop lifting your head all the way out of the water!” Rapp shouted. “Just turn it to the side when you want to breathe!”
She did her best to comply, and he paid just enough attention to make sure she didn’t drown. The remainder of his mind turned to Claudia. Would she have been so anxious to get together with him if she’d known he’d end up in a death match with the president of the United States? Of course she’d say yes, but would she really mean it? In many ways, Claudia behaved like she owed him a blood debt for her involvement in the death of his wife. And now it looked like she might end up paying it.
He could kill Enzo Ruiz, Josef Svoboda, and every other enemy she’d ever made. He could take out the president or sacrifice himself to remove the object of Cook’s obsession. But none of it would matter. With Legion, the fuse had been lit.
“Mitch!” Anna said, punching one of the legs he had submerged in the water.
He hadn’t been fully conscious of the fact that she’d successfully completed her lap of the pool.
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You look sad.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’m not sad, I’m late. We’ve got to go.”
“Can I stay? Just for a little longer?”
He looked down at her and frowned.
“Come, on, Mitch. I promise I won’t get in the pool without you here. I’m just going to sit in one of the chairs till I’m dry and stuff.”
“You promise you won’t get in the pool?”
She grinned. “One hundred percent!”
“Okay, then.”
He lifted her out and handed her one of the towels rolled up next to him.
“Can I have one of Mr. Ward’s root beers?”
He thought about it for a moment. “One. But that’s it. If he comes home and his fridge is empty, you’re going to be in serious trouble.”
“He can afford more,” she grumbled.
“Anna…”
“Sorry.”
“And what else are you not going to do when you’re inside?”
“Sit on his furniture in my swimsuit.”
He stood. “Exactly.”
“Where’s Anna?” Claudia said as he approached, still drying his hair with a towel. Kennedy was already present, sitting in the shadow of the bungalow to escape the afternoon heat. The fact that there were no snacks or drinks confirmed his impression that Claudia was hanging on by a thread.