Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(78)

“Set your ego and adrenaline addiction aside for a moment,” Nasrin said. “Are you completely blind to the possibility that they suspect someone—maybe even us—is hunting Claudia? That she’s willing to put herself out as bait, but unwilling to endanger her daughter?”

“How would they know?” Cyrah said before she could stop herself. The statement was absurd and only went to support Nasrin’s position that she’d lost her professional objectivity.

“How would they know?” came the inevitable retort. “This is one of the first risks we identified when we created our protocols. Because we have no idea who we’re working for, we can’t monitor if they talk too much or if they’ve been compromised.”

“And the risk is even more inherent in this operation,” Yasmin said, picking up the thought. “We have a man who is probably former CIA and who still has significant capabilities. It wouldn’t be difficult for Claudia to put together a list of her surviving enemies and for him to find them.”

Cyrah turned back toward her vehicle. “Can I assume it wouldn’t be difficult for you to generate that same list?”

“It would not,” Nasrin said.

“Can I further assume that you’ve done it?”

“We have.”

“And?”

“Two of the people on it have died in the past two and a half weeks.”

“Details?” Cyrah said.

“Josef Svoboda, who you’re familiar with, died apparently of erotic asphyxiation.”

“The surprising thing there is that it didn’t happen sooner.”

“And Enzo Ruiz purportedly died of a heart attack.”

“Who is that?”

“A former Spanish drug smuggler.”

“Was he at risk for a heart attack?”

There was a long pause before Nasrin answered. “He was in his nineties and in a wheelchair.”

Cyrah laughed. “Nineties?”

“I’m not sure what you’re laughing about,” Nasrin shot back. “Including Marroqui, three of Claudia Gould’s former enemies have died over an improbably short period of time. Are you really willing to ignore that?”

“Yes,” Cyrah said simply. “I acknowledge the possibility you’re right but if we walk away from this, it’s the end for us. I agree that we need to be even more cautious than usual, but I’m not ready to be done. I suppose that the question now is whether I continue on my own or whether I continue with your support.”

“That isn’t the question,” Yasmin said. “Of course you have our support.”

“We’re not in danger,” Nasrin said. “Only you are. And, as you say, if we pull out, you’ll continue—something we believe will end with you either dead or captured. And if not, it’s only a short delay in your sprint toward the inevitable.”

“Very poetic.”

“You’re our sister and we don’t want harm to come to you—self-inflicted or otherwise,” Yasmin said. “But you need to understand that if we manage to bring this operation to a successful conclusion, the two of us will be exercising more discretion about what jobs we take going forward.”

Cyrah decided to ignore the threat. “Can we bring it to a successful conclusion?”

Nasrin’s sigh was audible even over the hiss of the strengthening breeze. “We may have found a way.”

“Explain.”

“There are no predictable deliveries to the house—just sporadic drop-offs of what appear to be construction materials from a wide variety of sources. An architect has been engaged, but all their communications thus far are electronic. Physical drawings and meetings about these kinds of things aren’t as frequent as they once were.”

“But?” Cyrah said. She was passing her car for the second time in their conversation and didn’t want to stay out there for any longer than necessary.

“The key may be in their diet. Based on what’s being purchased at the grocery store, it doesn’t vary at all.”

“How can we use that?”

“The opportunity is with the servant,” Yasmin said. “She’s extremely compulsive in her behavior, which makes her predictable in all things. What we’re interested in, though, is one narrow facet of that compulsiveness. Specifically, how she selects romaine lettuce.”





CHAPTER 38


FRANSCHHOEK

SOUTH AFRICA

BEBE Kincaid committed to one more loop of the parking lot. Despite the fact that the store wasn’t particularly busy, someone had taken her customary space along the eastern edge. How long would the vile parking space thief be inside? Maybe they were just getting something quick. Should she wait? Keep driving around until…

One, two, three, it doesn’t matter. Four, five, six, it’s just a parking lot.

She backed into a space that provided just as good a view of the area and pretended to look at her phone as she scanned through the windshield. There were a few customers visible, only one of whom she’d seen before—an old woman with a cane that seemed to cause more problems than it solved.

The American surveillance team had kept tabs on her for a little over a week, but now seemed to have lost interest. And why wouldn’t they? No one in this world knew or cared that she existed. No one but Mitch, Claudia, Scott, and his men.