Pursuit of Honor

CHAPTER 74

LINCOLN MEMORIAL

BY the time Rapp and Nash got to the Lincoln Memorial the Park Police and the D.C. Metro Police had the place cordoned off. TV crews were both northeast and southeast of the barricades and the police were trying unsuccessfully to move them back. Both departments had big fire-truck-sized command vehicles parked out front. Rapp displayed his Homeland Security credentials at the checkpoint and told the officer to allow the next vehicle to follow as well. He had Nash in the front seat next to him. Reavers was in the backseat directly behind Nash. Rapp had quietly given the retired SEAL orders to shadow Nash wherever he went.

Dr. Lewis was in the Suburban behind them with some of Coleman’s other men and Hakim al Harbi. Lewis had convinced Rapp that they should bring Hakim along. Based on the voicemail messages they had reviewed and his cooperation so far, Lewis felt Hakim might be able to offer some insight into Karim’s mind. Rapp had some other possible uses in mind, but so far wasn’t willing to share them with the group. Coleman and Wicker were on their way with Max Johnson and his surveillance van. They were going to try to get a fix on the third cell phone that Hakim had given to Ahmed. For now they were assuming that Karim was inside the monument with at least one very important hostage. Rapp parked as close to the command posts as he could get, and then jumped out and raced to cut off Nash.

“Slow down, Mike,” Rapp said as he grabbed him by the left arm. He had barely said a word on the twelve-minute drive in from his house. For obvious reasons Rapp was concerned that he might do something stupid.

Nash turned and took a big swing at Rapp, his right fist sailing in a wild roundhouse punch.

Rapp ducked just in time and felt the punch brush the top of his head. He brought his fists up to block his face and took a quick step back.

“Fuck you!” Nash screamed. His eyes were filled with tears and his face was flushed with anger. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t fucking outed me none of this would have happened. You put me and my family at risk and I will never forgive you. So fuck off and get the hell away from me.” Nash turned and stalked off toward the command vehicles.

Rapp had been waiting for it. He’d been feeling it himself. He just hadn’t expected it to come this soon. He looked at Reavers and jerked his head in the direction Nash had just gone. “Follow him. Stay close.”

Dr. Lewis came up. Hakim was a few steps behind him with a guy on each arm. His wrists were bound with flex cuffs but no other restraints. Lewis looked at Rapp and said, “That was unfortunate, but I think understandable considering the circumstances.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Rapp said. He was already trying to figure out a way to make things right. He knew what he’d do if he had a daughter. He started moving toward the command vehicles. He tapped his earpiece and said, “Scott, give me a sitrep.”

“We’re close. Just passing Watergate. Should be there in sixty seconds.”

“Anything so far?”

“He has both signals, but we won’t be able to pinpoint until we get a little closer and stop.”

“Roger that.” Rapp did a 360 and looked at the terrain. “My money’s on the north side if he’s not in there with him.”

“Got it.”

Rapp looked at Hakim and asked, “What’s his endgame?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you holding back on me?”

“No. I would have never thought he’d paint himself into a corner like this.”

Rapp looked at all the police, the camera crews, and the spectators.

Lewis seemed to be reading his mind and said, “He’s created a stage for himself. You provoked him,” Lewis said to Hakim, “by telling him you would tell the world that he was a coward. He’s so narcissistic that his reputation means everything to him. He can’t bear the thought of people saying those things about him, so he’s going to make sure no one ever doubts his bravery.”

“But he kidnapped a fifteen-year-old girl,” Hakim said.

Lewis pointed at Nash, who was talking to the police. “That’s who he’s after. You said it yourself . . . that he flew into a rage during the press conference after the medal ceremony. He thinks that he will kill an American hero on this grand stage and that he will be revered and celebrated by millions of Muslims the world over.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Rapp turned and walked over to where Nash was talking to all the police brass. Fortunately, Art Harris was approaching the same point from the opposite side of the circle. Nash was already arguing with the two officers in charge.

“I’m not going to say it again. That’s my daughter in there. He wants me. When he calls, I’m going in, and she’s coming out. It’s as simple as that.”

Harris was wearing his FBI tactical vest. He introduced himself to the two on-scene commanders and told them that the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team was inbound from Quantico. “And no one,” he said to the group, “is doing anything until they get here. Federal property,” he said as he pointed to the statue of Lincoln, “and they kidnapped her in Virginia and brought her into the District. It’s the FBI’s jurisdiction.”

“I don’t give a shit whose jurisdiction it is. That’s my daughter in there. When he calls back I’m going in. And I don’t want HRT fucking this thing up.”

“Mike, I understand your situation here, but you’re not in charge.”

“Fuck you, Art.” Nash pointed at the building and screamed, “That’s my daughter in there! Shannon! You’ve known her since she was a little kid. What would you do if that was Shelly? Would you trust HRT, or would you go in there and trade your life for your daughter’s?”

Rapp heard Coleman’s voice come over his earpiece and stepped away from the group. “Say again.”

“Max thinks he has a fix on the sniper. Says he’s due north of your position. Constitution and Twenty-third.”

Rapp stepped out from behind the command vehicle and looked north. The building’s roof was in plain view above the trees. Rapp’s eyes swept left. There was nothing. He moved them right along the tree line. The buildings on this part of Constitution Avenue occupied entire city blocks. The next block had a peaked roof, but the next block after that housed the Federal Reserve. It was a big, flat-roofed monster. “Slick,” Rapp said, using Wicker’s nickname.

“Yeah, Mitch.”

“Get over to the Federal Reserve and settle in at the southwest corner of the roof. Let me know when you have this guy in your sights.”

“Mitch, what do you want me to do?” Coleman asked.

“Drop him off and make sure he gets in. I don’t care if you have to shoot your way in. Can Max jam these signals if I need him to?”

It took a moment while Coleman relayed the question. “He says no problem, but he wants to know if you want him to block all signals or just these two.”

“For now just these two, but let me think about that. Hurry up and get Slick on that roof!”

“We’re already in front of the building and there’s a guard out front.”

“Show him your DHS creds and call me if you have a problem. I’ve got Art here.”

As Rapp turned to go back to the group he heard some choppers coming in. He craned his head skyward as three Blackhawks came in and landed a few hundred yards away, just south of the Reflecting Pool.

“That’s HRT,” Harris announced, as Rapp walked up to the group.

Harris gave him a nervous looked and mouthed the words, Do something!

Nash was now arguing with one of the on-site commanders. Rapp listened for a good ten seconds and then stepped in. He looked at the two on-site commanders and asked, “Does he have any other hostages?” As Rapp finished asking the question, Wicker’s voice came over the net telling him he was in the building and on the way to the roof.

“We don’t think so, but we think he killed at least eight people. There are five up there on the steps and three more just inside.”

“Any idea where he is in there?”

“We’re pretty sure he’s around that inside corner on the north side of the building.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Three people told us he was on the north side. None of the eyewitnesses said he was on the south side.”

“Who cares?” Nash said impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going in there.”

Rapp placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Let’s talk about this.”

Nash knocked his hand away and made a fist. “Get the hell away from me.”

Rapp backed up and put his hands up, palms out. “Don’t you even want to try?”

“No. If I go in there, he lets her go.”

“Or he blows her head off right in front of you.”

“Shut up, Mitch. I’ve spent too many years doing things your way. Not tonight. That’s my daughter in there. I’m calling the shots.”

Wicker’s welcome voice came over Rapp’s earpiece, “Got him. Range 310 yards. No wind. Give me twenty seconds.”

Rapp was thinking of Wicker when he looked at Coleman and said, “Fine . . . but if we’re going to do this your way, you’re gonna call Maggie first. You tell her you love her, you tell those boys you love them, and then you go in there and make the exchange.”

The words got to Nash. He slowly started to nod in recognition that it was the right thing to do. He pulled out his phone, stared blankly at it for a moment, and then started to walk away from the group while he dialed the number.

Rapp followed him and when Nash put the phone to his ear, Rapp pulled an epipen from his pocket, flicked off the protective cap, and jabbed Nash in the back of the neck. Rapp held the pen in place for a second and then dropped it and reached for Nash’s phone. Reavers stepped in and caught Nash as he collapsed to the pavement.

Art Harris pulled up next to Rapp with a worried look on his face and asked, “What in the hell are we going to do now?”

“That depends on how much time we have, Art.” To Reavers he said, “Leave him. Let’s go.” Rapp broke into a sprint for his vehicle. “Slick, give me updates. If you hear me say Bingo, you take the shot.”

“Roger that.”

When they got to the car Rapp told Reavers to grab his shit out of the backseat. Rapp popped the trunk and stripped off his suit coat. He slid on his bulletproof vest and Velcroed the sides before putting on his tactical vest. He grabbed his M-4 rifle from its hard case and snatched up a thick silencer. Reavers trotted behind him with an identical rifle and vest.

When they got back to the command post, Harris was waiting for them with his arms across his chest. “Just what in the Lord’s name do you cowboys think you’re doing?”

“Don’t start, Art. Get out of my way.”

“I can’t do that. This is an FBI op. You guys can’t operate around here. Look at all the media.”

Rapp stopped and took note of all the cameras. “Good point.” Turning to Reavers, Rapp asked, “You got a balaclava?” referring to the black ski masks they sometimes wore on operations. Reavers produced one from his tactical vest at about the same time Rapp did. They put them on but left them up on their foreheads like watch caps.

“Oh, shit,” Harris said with genuine concern. “You guys can’t do this. Just wait for HRT.”

The phone Rapp took from Nash started ringing. Rapp looked down at the smiling photo of Shannon. He glanced at Harris and said, “No time.” Rapp pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear. “Hello.”

There was a long pause and then, “Who is this?”

“I’m one of Mike’s friends.”

“Where is he?” Karim asked angrily.

Rapp looked around said, “Ahhh . . . He just started vomiting.”

“Coward,” Karim scoffed. “I will make sure the media knows that your hero vomited before facing me.”

“Yeah . . . well not everyone can be a tough guy, right?”

“Who is this?”

Rapp looked up and saw Lewis and Hakim. “Dr. Lewis! I’m monitoring the situation here. Mr. Nash is obviously very traumatized by this.” Rapp tried to think of the words Lewis would choose. “He just got off the phone with his wife and boys. He wanted to say good-bye to them. He wanted them to have some closure.”

“Well, put him on the phone. It is time to make the exchange.”

“Hold on.” Rapp looked down and hit the mute key. He marched straight over to Hakim and said, “Are you honestly sick of seeing innocent people killed?”

Hakim looked up at the building bathed in lights and said, “Yes.”

Rapp thought it through one more time. “All right . . . then you’re going to get your chance to prove it. I’m going to hand you this phone and I want you to bait him like you’ve never baited him before. I want you to work him into an absolute fury.”

Hakim nodded. “I know just what to say.”

“Mitch,” Lewis said, “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“No time to argue,” Rapp snapped. “Slick, are you good to go?”

“Affirmative.”

Rapp grabbed Hakim and dragged him through the police and up the edge of the steps. Harris followed. “Art,” Rapp said, “take the phone from him if he tries to warn him.”

Harris pulled out his gun.

Rapp looked at the keypad, took a deep breath, and took it off mute. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, and I must warn you I am not alone. If anyone other than Mr. Nash approaches the building I will kill the girl.”

“Understood.” Rapp handed the phone to Hakim and pulled the black mask down over his face.

“Karim, this is your old friend. I see you are still hiding behind the skirts of little girls.”

Rapp turned away from Hakim and said, “Bingo! I repeat . . . Bingo!”

Rapp took the steps three at a time. Reavers was right at his side. “You’ve got my six. We go in on the right side.”

“Tango is down.” Wicker’s voice came over the net. “I repeat, tango is down.”

Wicker’s words were welcome but Rapp didn’t have time to celebrate. There was one bad guy down, but still one to go. They pushed up the last flight of stairs, their footfalls nearly silent. As they neared the big columns, Rapp could hear someone shouting from inside the immense space. He had a moment of indecision. Should he stop and assess the situation or rush headlong into it and keep surprise on his side? He decided on the latter and already had a picture in his mind’s eye. They reached the threshold and Rapp sliced through the farthest opening on the right. His left eye was perched behind his Eotech holographic sight. The red bull’s-eye glowed in the middle of the square aperture.

The picture Rapp had in his mind’s eye was nothing like the one he was confronted with. Standing no more than twenty feet in front of him, Karim had his phone to his ear and was screaming. His gun was in his right hand, and there was no sign of Shannon. They made eye contact and Rapp saw the gun start to come up. He continued to close, and did three quick double taps, all high center mass. All suppressed. Karim tumbled backward, the pistol falling from his hand. Rapp stopped two feet short and kept the gun trained on Karim, who was now sprawled out on his back.

“Shannon?” Rapp yelled.

Off to his left he saw something in the shadows shift. He glanced over and saw Shannon tied up with her back to him, but moving. Rapp looked back down at Karim, who was clutching at his tactical vest. There was no sign of blood. Rapp figured he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Rapp thought about the president and Dickerson and the bullshit show trial that the country would be dragged through. He elevated the thick silencer a few degrees and put Karim’s face in the center of the sight. He was trying to say something, but Rapp didn’t really care. He squeezed the trigger one more time and ended it.