Oath of Loyalty (Mitch Rapp #21)(8)

“I canceled it.”

“Why?”

He evaded the question. “Still no word from Mike Nash?”

She let out a long breath but kept facing the window, preferring to look at his hazy image reflected in the glass. “No. But that isn’t particularly surprising. He said it would take time.”

“But how much time, Cathy? How do we know that he didn’t have a change of heart once he reconnected with Rapp and the others?”

“Mike’s not an idiot, Tony. He understands where the world is going and the role he can play in it. He’s not going to make enemies of us in hopes of getting forgiveness from Mitch Rapp.”

“Then maybe Rapp killed him. Like he has everybody else.”

She closed her eyes, blocking out the distractions around her. “Mike is a former recon Marine and one of the few people in the world Rapp trusts. More likely, Rapp’s already dead and Mike’s in the process of getting to Nicholas Ward. Once that’s done, we’ll replace Kennedy and it’s over. No one’s going to push back against Mike taking over at the CIA. If anything, he’s better liked around Washington than Kennedy. She has a way of making people uncomfortable.”

“But can we trust him to stay on the path we’re building?”

That was a more difficult question. Nash still had an archaic sense of morality that he couldn’t completely break free of. In the end, though, he didn’t have to like any of this. For now, it would be enough for him to understand that he had no other options.

“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” she said. “But there are things we can do about the Chinese making you look weak in the Pacific. And we need to strategize about how to take advantage of the immigration fight that we both know is coming. And then there are your slipping approval—”

There was a quiet knock on the door and a moment later her assistant opened it. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but Stephen Wright just called to say he’s on his way here. He wanted me to tell you it’s urgent.”

Not surprisingly, that got her husband’s attention. Wright was the recently installed head of the Secret Service and the man in charge of his all-important physical security.

“When?” Cook said, spinning toward the door a little too eagerly.

“Ten minutes, sir.”



Catherine Cook settled into the seating area that dominated the center of the Oval Office. In contrast, her husband chose his normal position behind the modern table that had replaced the Resolute Desk. Constructed of glass, steel, and polished wood, it fit the new décor and was a reminder to all who entered that the past was dead. The battles ahead could be won only by those capable of breaking free of history’s limitations.

Cook stood when his Secret Service chief entered, but Catherine remained on the couch. She’d known Wright for almost twenty years and had never seen him looking so haggard. His thick gray hair was still perfectly arranged and his tan improbably even, but there was perspiration gleaming on his forehead and gathering in the lines around his eyes. Not that it was surprising. He was a former judge with no history of running large organizations—government or otherwise. What he did have, though, was a vision of a new world order that was very similar to their own. Further, he was smart, trustworthy, and very much enjoyed the status provided by being a member of their inner circle.

His first task as director had been to begin purging the Secret Service’s security detail of anyone with loyalties to either Mitch Rapp or Irene Kennedy. Secondarily, he was augmenting existing security protocols and changing those that Rapp and Kennedy would be familiar enough with to circumvent. Finally, he was quietly overseeing some of the agencies that had not yet been brought under the Cooks’ thumb—most notably the FBI.

“What do you have for us?” the president asked.

“My people temporarily lost Irene Kennedy, but then the surveillance team watching Mitch Rapp’s neighborhood reacquired her. She went to Mike Nash’s house—”

“Is he there?”

“She met someone in the driveway who we couldn’t identify because of the weather. They went inside for about forty-five minutes and then drove to Rapp’s house. Getting surveillance inside his wall is difficult. Particularly with drones unable to fly.”

Cook went silent for a moment, his eyes darting nervously around the office. “Is it him? Is it Rapp?”

“I don’t think we need to jump to conclusions,” Catherine interjected. “It could just be Mike. He and Kennedy might have business at Rapp’s house. They’d certainly have access to it. Mike is probably one of the people who take care of it when it’s empty.”

Wright just stood there in silence, looking back and forth at them. It was something she’d become accustomed to long ago. They governed very much as a team and people often weren’t sure where the power in the room was located.

“It’s him,” Cook said.

“Tony, we—”

“Don’t patronize me, Cathy!” He turned back to Wright. “Is your team ready?”

She felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck. “What team, Tony?”

“Yes, sir. In place and waiting for your authorization.”

“Do it.”

Wright gave a short nod and rushed from the room. When the door closed, Catherine repeated herself. “What team, Tony?”