Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(7)

Rapp nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “This isn’t what I signed on for, Irene. I was happy to defend my country from outside enemies, but it’s not my job to defend it against itself. The fact that the American people vote for these pieces of shit isn’t my problem. But the fact that Cook sent one of my best friends to kill me is.”

“You’re not having any wine?” Kennedy said, obviously anxious to avoid the issue for just a little longer.

“It probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

She smiled bitterly and tipped a little more into her glass. “No. I suppose not.”





CHAPTER 2


THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

USA

THE experts had once again gotten it wrong.

A briefing from NOAA suggested that the storm would pass harmlessly, with only its edges making landfall. Instead, America’s eastern seaboard was being hammered by torrential rain and unseasonably high winds. To the south, a number of major cities were without power and flooding was overwhelming unprepared authorities. The DC area was faring better and, according to those same experts, would continue to do so as the storm weakened. Whether that prediction would prove to be any more accurate than the first one remained to be seen.

Catherine Cook stood silently at the window of her office, watching the trees struggle against the onslaught and listening to the rumble of it through the glass. Not as good a view as those afforded by the windows behind her husband’s desk in the Oval Office, but still an extremely interesting perspective. Far different than the one from the office she’d occupied as first lady of California. Or the one she’d had at the hedge fund she once ran.

She’d worked her entire life to get where she was now but had still arrived unprepared for the scale of it. The problems and opportunities of governing California seemed trivial by comparison. And the billions she’d handled during her time in high finance were nothing but rounding errors to the Federal Reserve.

Above it all, though, was the overwhelming sense of opportunity. While many of her colleagues in New York were blind to it, Wall Street’s dead end was easy to discern. Once one acquired everything money could buy, it all became a game. A petty competition between people with insecurities that they mistook for ambition and superiority.

Running California had been largely the same. With no access to the national security apparatus, no military, and a limited ability to engage foreign powers, the end of the road had been less obvious, but just as real.

This window was different, though. Despite the driving rain, she could see forever.

She and her husband were the right people in the right place at the right moment in history. They had an opportunity to remake not just America, but everything. The liberty that the free world had enjoyed over the last century was nothing more than an anomaly. A momentary pause between the priests and nobles of antiquity and the politicians and billionaires of the new age. A momentary pause that was coming to its end.

They were entering an era that could be dominated in a different, but much more profound, way than in the past. The acquisition of territory—so important at one time—had become irrelevant. Society’s next iteration would be one overseen by a network of loosely allied dictators spread across the globe. The challenge was making sure that it was the American president, and not the leaders of China or Europe, who ushered in that change. And for that to happen, Washington would have to be transformed into a central power that exceeded even Beijing or Moscow. Weakness and compromise could no longer be tolerated.

So many opportunities. But only for those with the courage to take advantage of them.

Boldness in the political arena was not something her husband had ever lacked, but now their operating environment had shifted. And on unfamiliar ground, glimmers of something she’d never seen in him were becoming visible: cowardice.

He had been elected for his charisma, his good looks, and his confidence-inspiring certainty. He could charm, anger, and terrify with an effortlessness that no one in the world could match. Anthony Cook was a lightning rod for human emotion. Whether that turned out to be love or hate was irrelevant. Either way, it dominated everything and everyone that came into his orbit.

Or at least, that’s what he had once been. Before they had crossed paths with a meaningless CIA thug named Mitch Rapp.

Catherine turned toward a television depicting the governor of North Carolina walking through the storm that was devastating his state. In normal times, her husband would have been alongside him—looking young and vital, his drenched dress shirt clinging to a muscular torso. He’d have been depicted talking to locals with an expression of deep concern. Unloading trucks. Stacking sandbags. But no more. Virtually all activities that took place outside the gates of the White House had come to a screeching halt. He’d even backed away from the online partisan sniping that kept the American people so entertained. His mind was now focused on one thing and one thing only: countering the perceived threat posed by Mitch Rapp.

She turned back toward the window and after a few moments heard the door open behind her. There was no question as to who it was. Only one person in the world entered her office unannounced.

“I thought you had a meeting with Dick Trenton?” she said without turning.

Trenton was a billionaire donor who reveled in his access to the president and missed no opportunity to sit across from him in the Oval Office.