Consent To Kill

47

Rashid remained surprisingly calm. His eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that, he showed no outward signs of his inner distress. He stared stone-faced across the table at Mark Ross and asked, "What are you saying?"

"He's not dead. His wife was killed in the explosion, but he survived."

"But the papers and the TV," Rashid said with a disbelieving look on his face, "both yesterday and today have reported him dead."

"And they are wrong." Ross leaned in and pointed emphatically toward the window. "He's at a CIA safe house not far from here right now. He was severely injured but he is very much alive."

"Why hasn't your government corrected the press?"

"It's a complicated thing, Prince Muhammad." Ross sat back and let out a deep breath. "Let's just say there are a few people who think the explosion was not an accident."

"Someone tried to kill him?"

"It looks that way," Ross said without much enthusiasm.

"You do not sound convinced."

Ross rolled his eyes. "The man has a lot of enemies. It's not hard to imagine someone trying to kill him."

Rashid was shocked that Rapp was still alive and also that Ross seemed distressed by his survival. He decided to take a gamble. "Mark, you are worried by this Mitch Rapp business."

"Absolutely."

"May I ask why?"

Ross thought it over briefly. He was here to build a relationship and that wouldn't happen unless he opened up. "Mitch Rapp is a very dangerous man. Under the best of circumstances he is extremely difficult to manage. Now, I'm afraid he will be impossible."

"You think he will want revenge against whoever killed his wife."

Ross nodded. "I can't say I blame him, but we can't have him running around executing people. It would look very bad for the United States."

Rashid nodded his agreement. "Is there any evidence?"

"There is one small bit of intel that points to one of your countrymen." Ross arched his right brow. "But the evidence is so thin I can't even remember his name."

Rashid was trying desperately to stay calm. "What did this man do?"

"Apparently he placed a bounty on Rapp's head. I doubt he's the first person to do that."

"Bounty," Rashid repeated the word. "Was it a bounty or a fatwa?" Rashid knew several Islamic clerics who had laid down fatwas demanding Rapp's death. He had no idea if Ross understood the difference.

"A bounty. The man is very wealthy."

Rashid's stomach tightened. "Why would a wealthy Saudi want Mitch Rapp killed?"

"Apparently Rapp killed his son last spring in Afghanistan during a counterterrorism operation."

The entire room went out of focus for a second. Rashid regained his composure a moment later and told Ross, "Get me the person's name and I will see what I can find out." Rashid did not need the man's name because he already knew it, but appearances must be kept up. "It is not good for anyone to have these loose cannons causing us such problems."

"No, it isn't."

Rashid set his napkin down and pushed his chair back. He stood and Ross followed suit. The two men walked along the opposite end of the table and met by the door. Rashid reached out and touched Ross's elbow. "This killing must stop. It is very bad for our two countries."

"I agree."

"I promise you, I will get to the bottom of this. If any Saudi had a hand in this, they will be punished." Rashid stopped and faced the director of National Intelligence. "I warn you, though, that Mitch Rapp must not meddle in the affairs of Saudi Arabia."

"I understand this and have already spoken to the president."

"Good."

The two men continued into the large entrance hall where Ross's people were waiting. Rashid turned to Ross and said, "We have many beautiful horses for you to choose from. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes I must freshen up and then I will join you in the paddock."

The prince's personal assistant came forward and gestured for the group to follow. When they were gone, Rashid walked quickly to the library. His calm, austere faзade had vanished. His perfect morning had turned disastrous in a matter of minutes. Mitch Rapp would no sooner stay out of Saudi Arabia's business than the sun would fail to set. His wife was dead and he was alive. Things could not have gone any worse. Rashid sprang through the library doors and slammed them shut behind him. Tayyib was pacing behind the desk, his arms folded and his chin down. A set of headphones lay on the desk next to an open briefcase. The curtains at both ends of the room were drawn.

"Did you hear everything?" Rashid asked.

"Yes."

"Is it possible it is a trap? To see if I had a hand in this?"

"Possible, yes, but doubtful."

"What course do you advise?"

"The German must die immediately."

"Make it so."

"And I regret to suggest that Saeed Ahmed Abdullah should meet an untimely end."

This was Rashid's oldest, closest friend. A devout Wahhabi and a good man. He could never abandon him. "No. You heard Ross. What evidence they have is thin. If the Americans want to persecute every man who has wished Mitch Rapp dead, they will have a list numbering in the millions."

"But they just happen to be right in this case."

"I will return to the Kingdom tonight and take care of Saeed. He will be fine. The Americans will never be able to prove a thing."

"Mitch Rapp will not need proof," Tayyib said in an ominous voice. "He will start killing and torturing until he finds out who was behind this."

"Ross said the president has ordered him to stay out of this."

"Rapp has never been one to follow orders. With his wife dead, the Americans have no hope of controlling him."

"Then he must die," Rashid snapped.

Tayyib nodded. "I know of two CIA safe houses in Virginia. One is very close. I helped interrogate several prisoners there after 9/11. They are fortified facilities but not heavily guarded."

"I want him dead," snarled Rashid.

Tayyib thought about this for a moment and then said, "It will cost a lot of money and it will be very messy."

"I don't care. Just so long as Rapp is killed and none of it is linked to us."

"I will take care of it."