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Authors: Vince Flynn
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the CIA’s top killer. Clark had given him one more chance, and Cameron had screwed that up too. Disguised as FBI special agents, Cameron and his cronies had picked up Anna Rielly and brought her to Rapp’s house. Once again, Cameron underestimated his target, and before the night was over more men had died at Rapp’s hands.
That was when the senator had decided to cut his losses. In a brief coded e-mail to Freidman, Clark had arranged for Peter Cameron to meet his maker. Twenty-four hours later Cameron was dead and Mitch Rapp had run into a brick wall in his pursuit to find out who had ordered the hit on him in Germany.
If Clark had learned anything from his experiences of the last month it was to be extra careful. The lure of ultimate power had caused him to make some poor decisions, and he was not going to let it happen again. He would heed the advice of BenFreidman, and from this point forward he would be more careful.
Leaning back in his chair, Freidman gestured with his hands, telling his friend to unload his burden. “How can I help?”
Clark hesitated briefly and then said, “The woman you sent to take care of Cameron?”
Freidman raised an eyebrow. “I never told you it was a woman.”
“The CIA has tapes of her.”
“When you say the CIA, who do you mean specifically?”
“Kennedy.”
“What do the tapes show?”
“They show her coming and going.”
Freidman noticed that Clark seemed very disturbed by this bit of news. Always with one eye on the end game, he decided to play the whole thing off as unimportant. “She’s a pro. I doubt they will find anything on those tapes.”
“But what if they do?”
Freidman acted as if he were giving the senator’s words serious concern. He scratched one of his muscular forearms and said, “I’m not worried. Even if they got lucky and found her, they would never get anything from her.”
The thought of the CIA finding the woman caused Clark’s chest to tighten. He reminded himself to keep breathing and stay calm. “I’m worried,” he said flatly. “I would like this potential problem to go away. No loose ends. Rapp got close enough last time.”
Freidman grimaced at Clark’s words as if he were wrestling with an idea he didn’t like. “This woman is very good. One of my best. I have put years and years of training into her.”
“Five hundred thousand.”
Freidman liked the number. It was easily double what he had expected. That was another thing he really liked about Clark and his cowboy attitude. There was no dicking around when it came to money. After considering the issue for a bit longer, Freidman nodded and said, “I’ll take care of it, but it will have to wait until I return. This is too delicate to handle from America.”
Clark felt as if a heavy weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Relieved, he asked, “When are you heading back?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Smiling, Clark said, “Ben, I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way. I really appreciate it. I should have listened to you when you warned me to steer clear of Rapp.”
“Don’t worry.” Freidman shrugged off the comment as if it were trivial. “You have been a good ally, and when you are president,” the director of the Mossad raised his glass in a toast, “you will be an even better ally.”
6
M ARYLAND , M ONDAY E VENING
T he stars were bright even with the fire. Anna had given him a portable wrought iron fire kettle for his birthday, and Mitch had put it to good use. The temperature was around fifty and dropping. Rapp sat on the deck of his small cottage overlooking the Chesapeake. A slight breeze was coming in off the water, just enough to keep the smoke from billowing into his face. He was dressed warmly in jeans, a beat up sweatshirt and an old brown Carhartt jacket. He was sitting all the way back in a white Adirondack chair with his feet up on a footstool that was barely a foot from the flames. Shirley was lying at his side
That was when the senator had decided to cut his losses. In a brief coded e-mail to Freidman, Clark had arranged for Peter Cameron to meet his maker. Twenty-four hours later Cameron was dead and Mitch Rapp had run into a brick wall in his pursuit to find out who had ordered the hit on him in Germany.
If Clark had learned anything from his experiences of the last month it was to be extra careful. The lure of ultimate power had caused him to make some poor decisions, and he was not going to let it happen again. He would heed the advice of BenFreidman, and from this point forward he would be more careful.
Leaning back in his chair, Freidman gestured with his hands, telling his friend to unload his burden. “How can I help?”
Clark hesitated briefly and then said, “The woman you sent to take care of Cameron?”
Freidman raised an eyebrow. “I never told you it was a woman.”
“The CIA has tapes of her.”
“When you say the CIA, who do you mean specifically?”
“Kennedy.”
“What do the tapes show?”
“They show her coming and going.”
Freidman noticed that Clark seemed very disturbed by this bit of news. Always with one eye on the end game, he decided to play the whole thing off as unimportant. “She’s a pro. I doubt they will find anything on those tapes.”
“But what if they do?”
Freidman acted as if he were giving the senator’s words serious concern. He scratched one of his muscular forearms and said, “I’m not worried. Even if they got lucky and found her, they would never get anything from her.”
The thought of the CIA finding the woman caused Clark’s chest to tighten. He reminded himself to keep breathing and stay calm. “I’m worried,” he said flatly. “I would like this potential problem to go away. No loose ends. Rapp got close enough last time.”
Freidman grimaced at Clark’s words as if he were wrestling with an idea he didn’t like. “This woman is very good. One of my best. I have put years and years of training into her.”
“Five hundred thousand.”
Freidman liked the number. It was easily double what he had expected. That was another thing he really liked about Clark and his cowboy attitude. There was no dicking around when it came to money. After considering the issue for a bit longer, Freidman nodded and said, “I’ll take care of it, but it will have to wait until I return. This is too delicate to handle from America.”
Clark felt as if a heavy weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Relieved, he asked, “When are you heading back?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Smiling, Clark said, “Ben, I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way. I really appreciate it. I should have listened to you when you warned me to steer clear of Rapp.”
“Don’t worry.” Freidman shrugged off the comment as if it were trivial. “You have been a good ally, and when you are president,” the director of the Mossad raised his glass in a toast, “you will be an even better ally.”
6
M ARYLAND , M ONDAY E VENING
T he stars were bright even with the fire. Anna had given him a portable wrought iron fire kettle for his birthday, and Mitch had put it to good use. The temperature was around fifty and dropping. Rapp sat on the deck of his small cottage overlooking the Chesapeake. A slight breeze was coming in off the water, just enough to keep the smoke from billowing into his face. He was dressed warmly in jeans, a beat up sweatshirt and an old brown Carhartt jacket. He was sitting all the way back in a white Adirondack chair with his feet up on a footstool that was barely a foot from the flames. Shirley was lying at his side
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