Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(76)

“Not this time. Trying to take out Rapp and his people would have a high probability of failure and a level of political backlash that even we wouldn’t be able to withstand. And reaching out to him and trying to reestablish our truce is impossible because he has no reason to trust us.”

“Then what?”

She let out a long breath. “I see only one path. That you rely on your security and go back to your political life.”

He stiffened. “That sounds like a recipe for my death.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But losing the White House definitely is.”





CHAPTER 36


NEAR FRANSCHHOEK

SOUTH AFRICA

RAPP finished his last set of pull-ups and dropped from the bar hanging in front of his gym’s sparkling clean windows. Bebe’s endless cleaning and straightening did have its benefits. On the other hand, he still hadn’t figured out her latest tool organization protocols and couldn’t find an entire category of wrenches. Asking her would be the logical solution but would lead to an intricate explanation that he didn’t want to listen to. Besides, it was a problem that shrunk to insignificance when compared with the one standing right in front of him.

When Sadie had first arrived, she’d trained hard—primarily with free weights and intense interval sessions on the treadmill. She’d seemed dedicated to her fitness level—for good reason in her line of work—but also used the time to blank out whatever the hell it was that went on in that beautiful head of hers.

Now, though, there were no more heavy dead lifts or steep sprints. To the degree she exercised at all, it was just a few graceful yoga moves in Claudia’s stylish athleisure wear. Occasionally, when performing a gymnastic act that Claudia would be completely incapable of, her eyes would harden behind the brown contacts obscuring them. Those glimpses of the real Sadie Hansen, though, were becoming more fleeting.

Today she wasn’t there to exercise, but instead to feed the newest addition to their misfit household—a collection of white mice contained in individual wire cages. He noted that each hair in her ponytail seemed to have been groomed individually, and that she was wearing a well-coordinated collection of Claudia’s gardening clothes. Somehow she made the ensemble look more like a new fashion trend than something one would wear to mow the lawn.

He stared at her from behind for a while, but when she looked like she was about to finish, he jumped back on the bar. Any excuse to keep their interactions to a minimum.

Not that he was doing a particularly good job of it. The night before, she’d come out of the bathroom and sat naked in front of him on the bed. Instead of making a pass, she’d stared at him with Claudia’s eyes and apologized for going to the store without telling him. From his position on the sofa, he’d done the same—saying that he was sorry for “overreacting,” and chalking it up to how important she was to both him and Anna. At that, she’d stood, kissed him gently on the forehead, and slipped beneath the covers.

So now, instead of tolerating her mental problems, he was feeding them. But what choice did he have? Legion was still out there and the wheels were falling off this operation at an ever-increasing rate. The more Sadie transformed into Claudia, the more afraid Bebe became of her. To the point that she’d actually cut back on her relentless cleaning in favor of sequestering herself in her room.

And they weren’t the only problem. A critical skill for staying alive in this business was being able to honestly evaluate your own psychological condition. His was deteriorating. He was cooped up here with no idea when or from what direction Legion was going to attack and trying to manage two teammates who were far from the squared-away operators who normally backed him up. He occasionally found himself lying awake at night, fantasizing about Legion succeeding. With Sadie dead, the job would be done and he, Claudia, and Anna could disappear into a new life and identity. Obviously, the Cook issue would still be hanging out there, but he’d burn that bridge when he got to it.

How twisted was that? While Sadie might not care much about whether she lived or died, he had an obligation to every member of his team. Crazy or not, Sadie was his responsibility. Why was he having to remind himself of that? He’d always worried about his body going, but maybe that wasn’t the problem. Maybe he was getting soft in the head.

Rapp dropped off the bar, turning reluctantly. The afternoon feeding was done and Sadie was looking right at him.

“You seem lost in thought, Mitch.”

“Do I?”

She nodded. “What about?”

“My back,” he lied.

At first, his imaginary bad back had been a joke that they’d both more or less been in on—a way to clarify that their relationship was all business without putting too fine a point on it. Now, though, it had taken its place in the alternate reality they were spinning.

“Still bothering you?”

“Yeah. I’ve been laying off it, but I think it’s getting worse.”

“You should let me rub it for you.”

“Thanks, but it’s a disk. Won’t help. If it doesn’t get better soon, I might try a cycle of prednisone. But that’s a last resort. I’ve popped way too many of those in my lifetime.”

He reached for the bar and made a show of using it to stretch his spine. She walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his stomach, leaning a cheek against his back. He’d been ready for it and managed not to stiffen.