The Third Option

35

Peter Cameron flew down Maryland Highway 214 in his silver metallic Lexus coupe with Rimsky- Korsakov's Scheherazade blaring out of the car's seven speakers. He had bought the car under one of his assumed names. Cameron was in the process of disobeying Senator Clark's orders. He simply could not resist going to the house. It was too tempting. The home of Mitch Rapp. He had to see what it was like. He had to be involved in the hit. Senator Clark would not be happy, but if Cameron was careful, his boss would never know. He had called ahead and warned Duser of his arrival. The last thing he needed right now was the former Marine or one of his trigger-happy cronies shooting him by mistake. That was the other reason he needed to visit the house. If this plan was going to work, he couldn't have those clowns showering the target with bullets.

As Cameron turned off of 214, he looked at his mobile phone and wondered when Rapp would call again. Rapp had called every hour since they had talked this afternoon, and he had intentionally neglected to answer the phone. The last call had been around nine P.M., almost two hours ago. Cameron hadn't thought of this, but if Rapp didn't call back, they would have a problem. He decided not to worry about it. Rapp would call him again. If not tonight, he would do it in the morning.

He ran his car through its paces as he zipped down the dark country road. The senator's plan was great, but there were some areas where it needed work. Multiple contingencies had to be put into place in case something went wrong, and the odds were good that something would. Cameron had envisioned for months finding Rapp's head perfectly centered in the cross hairs of one of his high-powered rifle scopes. That dream had been destroyed by the senator. Clark didn't give him any specifics beyond ruling out a long-distance shot, only that he was adamant that it must look like a murder-suicide. The girl would be easy, but Rapp might pose a problem. He was not a man to be underestimated, and the trick here would be to get close enough to shoot him in the head. With the way forensic science was today, they would have to be very careful how they left the crime scene.

They would have to keep the girl alive and take Rapp first. Cameron had decided on the weapon. He would use a. 22-caliber pistol. That way, there would be no exit wound and no blood splatter. They would get Rapp to enter the house alone, hold the girl at gunpoint, and shoot him in the side of the head before he had a chance to do anything. Then they would shoot the girl with the same gun and leave. An anonymous call would be made to the local sheriff and then several more to the TV stations just to make sure the CIA didn't try to cover it up.

Cameron knew there was one weakness in his plan. It was not going to be easy to get close enough to Rapp to kill him, and do it with only one shot. That would have to be his responsibility. He would have to stay cool right up until the last moment.

Cameron pulled into Rapp's driveway and parked in front of a sedan. One of Duser's men was standing on the small front porch. Cameron approached the man and told him to go get his boss. The sky was still overcast, the moon nowhere in sight. Duser came outside a minute later and offered Cameron a cigarette. He declined and watched Duser light up.

«How is she?»

Duser pulled the cigarette from his mouth. «She's all right. A little nervous, but nothing I wouldn't expect.»

«What's she doing?»

«Watching the nightly news.»

«Did you disable her cell phone?»

«Yep.» Duser took another drag from his cigarette. «What's the skinny on her boyfriend?»

«What do you mean?»

«What's his story? Is there anything I should know about him?»

Cameron looked out across the lawn. The neighbors were about fifty feet away on both sides, and there was a lot of vegetation dividing the property lines. «There's a chance he might be armed, but I wouldn't worry. He won't do anything as long as we have the girl.»

«You sure?»

«How many men do you have?»

«Six counting me.»

Cameron smiled. «He's no match for you and your boys.» Duser was cocky and more than willing to believe the shit Cameron was shoveling at him. After checking his watch, Cameron said, «It's getting late. I doubt it's going to happen tonight. I want to talk to her, and then I should head back into town and grab a few things.»

«Why don't we just tie her up and wait for him to show?»

«I don't want to leave any marks on her unless we have to:' Cameron opened the door and walked into the house. Two of Duser's bruisers were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. Their suit coats were off, and their weapons were clearly visible in their shoulder holsters. Cameron nodded to the two men and continued into the living area.

«Hello, Ms. Rielly, my name is Barry Lenzner.» Cameron stuck out his hand.

Rielly was sitting in the oversized chair with her legs crossed. She grabbed the stranger's hand and said, «Hello.»

Cameron sat on the couch. The first thing he noticed about Rielly was her stunning green eyes. «I work for the Agency.» He gestured to the men in the kitchen. «I hope none of this has alarmed you?»

«No… not too much.» Rielly brushed some of her hair back behind her ears.

«Good. because I don't want you to get upset over nothing. There is a small chance Mitch might make it by tonight, but I doubt it.» Cameron saw the look of despair on Rielly's face. «Don't worry. Nothing bad has happened. It's just that a few things came up.»

«What?»

With a grin, Cameron said, «You know I can't get into that, Ms. Rielly.»

«I know what Mitch does for a living.»

«I know that you know certain things, probably far more than you should, but it's not my place to discuss these issues with you. Mitch is in the middle of something very important, something with huge national security implications.»

«Is he safe?»

«Yes, he's safe.» Cameron smiled. «It's the other guys I'd worry about.»

«What other guys?»

«The bad guys.»

«Oh.»

«Listen, I don't want you to worry. I'm pretty sure Mitch will be here in the morning. If you want, we can take you back into the city and then bring you back out here bright and early, or you can spend the night here. We will, of course, stay out of your way.»

«Is there a chance he still might come tonight?»

«Yeah, but I don't want to get your hopes up.»

«Then I'll stay here.»

«Okay.» One of Cameron's phones started to ring. He looked to see which one it was and said, «If you'll excuse me, I need to get this.»

WITHIN SECONDS OF the words leaving Michael O'Rourke's lips, Rapp knew Anna was in trouble. He asked O'Rourke if he was sure Anna had told Liz she was going to meet him. O'Rourke said he was sitting right next to his wife when she took the call. Rapp was tempted to go upstairs and wake Liz, but after weighing what could be learned, he thought better of it. The last thing he needed right now was an emotional pregnant reporter on his hands. Rapp tried Rielly's apartment first. The answering machine picked up after four rings, and he hung up. When he tried her cell phone, a recorded voice told him the customer he was trying to reach was not available; Anna always answered her cell phone unless she was on the air. Something was wrong. Rapp strained to remain calm in front of O'Rourke. The ante had just been upped, and whoever these fuckers were, they were going to pay.

Before leaving, Rapp told O'Rourke not to say a word to his wife. O'Rourke was a bit reluctant at first until Rapp assured him that he could do a better job of finding Anna than the feds. Rapp promised to call, and then he and Coleman disappeared into the night.

He gave Coleman the address for Anna's apartment and told him to step on it. On the way; he dialed Stansfield's secure home number. When Kennedy answered, Rapp asked, «How's he doing?»

«He's asleep.»

«I think they have Anna.»

There was a moment of silence and then, «Are you sure?»

«Unfortunately, yes.»

«What do you want me to do?»

«I want you to get a team over to Anna's apartment right now.» Rapp gave her the address. «We should be there in, two minutes.»

«What else?»

«Put one of the SOG teams on alert. I might need them for backup.»

Kennedy was wondering how to handle the request for one of Langley's Special Operations groups. They were the CIA's equivalent of a SWAT team. She had the authority to make the request, but it would probably be better if Stansfield did it.

«I'll take care of it. Anything else?»

«This changes everything.»

Kennedy didn't like the detached calmness she heard in his voice. «How so?»

«I don't care how high this goes, I'm going to kill every last one of them.» Rapp ended the call and stared out the window as the truck raced up Wisconsin Avenue.

THEY CIRCLED THE apartment building twice, checking for surveillance, and then parked in front of a file hydrant. Rapp and Coleman entered the building with their heads down, not wanting to give the surveillance camera a hot of their faces. Rapp used his set of keys to gain access. Once in the stairwell, they both drew their weapons and attached silencers. Rapp was carrying a 9-mm Beretta and Coleman a H amp;K USP. 45 ACP. He took ten seconds to give Coleman the basic layout of the apartment. Coleman was used to working in pairs. It was a cornerstone of SEAL raining. Rapp, on the other hand, was a lone wolf. Coleman took a couple of seconds to make sure they were on the same page, and then they started up the stairs.

When they reached the fourth floor, Rapp gave the hallway a quick check and then left the stairwell. They were lot pausing for anything. If someone was waiting for them, the best way to handle it was to move fast and hit hard. Rapp took up a position on the right side of Rielly's door and Coleman on the left. Rapp quietly inserted the key and opened the door. Coleman entered the apartment right on Rapp's heels. He closed and locked the door behind them. They checked the front hall closet first and then the kitchen and the living room. Neither man spoke. They moved from room to room, Rapp taking the lead, Coleman watching his back. Every door was opened and then closed. In less than thirty seconds, they had checked the entire place. Thirty seconds after that, they found the first listening device. They left it undisturbed and retreated from the apartment, leaving the door unlocked.

Back in the truck, Rapp called Kennedy.

«The apartment was wired. Put your best people on it. Tell them to find the transponder and sit on it. If someone bows up to check on it, I want them followed. We're on our way to Marcus's. I'll call you when we get there.»

Coleman gunned the engine as they turned off New Mexico and onto Nebraska. Two blocks to the northeast, they hit a traffic circle. Coleman took it two-thirds of the way around and shot onto Massachusetts Avenue. As they cut through the swank Spring Valley neighborhood, Coleman asked, «What's our next move?»

Rapp couldn't get the bad images out of his mind. He could tolerate astronomical amounts of pain. He'd been shot and stabbed, he'd broken a dozen bones and pushed his body to the point where the only thing that kept him going was the will to live, but this was different. He was close to crying. The idea of someone hurting Anna was the most agonizing thing he had ever felt. Rapp shook the images from his mind and turned to look out his window. He wiped some of the moisture from his eyes. He didn't want Coleman to see him like this. «We'll find out if Marcus has made any progress, and then we'll try the Professor again.»