Transfer of Power

MITCH RAPP HAD everything ready to go. Bringing Adams along had proven to be a big help. Not only because of his knowledge of the building, but also because it gave Rapp an extra set of very capable hands. Adams had just finished showing Rapp the exact spots for a third time. Rapp looked at the layout of the second floor one last time and doublechecked the number When he was done, he had come up with five different locations.

Turning to Adams, he said, “Do you think you can handle the monitor and the devices at the same time?” Adams nodded.

“Yep.”

“Good. That’ll free me up to keep an eye out for any surprises.”

Rapp then grabbed the small fanny pack and took out all of the micro surveillance units except five. Handing the pack to Adams, he pointed at the blueprints and said, “We’ll place them in the five locations you suggested. After we put each one in place, we’ll check it on the monitor and make sure it’s working.” Rapp then grabbed the monitor and helped Adams get strapped into it When he was done helping Adams, he began checking out the rest of his gear.

As Rapp slid the bolt on his submachine gun back, Rielly asked, “Is that an MP-Five?”

Rapp looked up, frowning, more than a little surprised that she could even make a guess let alone get the manufacturer correct.

“Close. It’s the new MP-Ten. How do you know what an MP-Five looks like?”

“My dad’s a police officer in Chicago.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“What are you going to do?”

“A little reconnaissance.”

“Where?”

Rapp placed the submachine gun on the ground.

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m a reporter. It’s my job.”

Rapp frowned and nodded as if he had just been reminded of a particularly bad thing.

Rielly picked up on the expression and asked, “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Normally”-Rapp shrugged his shoulders-“probably not. But under the current circumstances, I can see where we might have a problem.”

“And why would that be?”

“Why?” Rapp tilted his head. “Because when this whole thing is over, you will probably have one hell of a story to tell.”

“I owe you a lot. I wouldn’t report anything that you didn’t agree to.”

Rapp slid his pistol out of his thigh holster and pulled back on the slide. The cylindrical brass round was where it should have been, and Rapp let the slide go forward.

“What if I don’t want you to report a single word of this mess? What if I want you to act like we never met, and none of this ever happened?”

“That’s not realistic.”

“Well, then we have a problem.”

Looking at him, she wondered why he would have to be so secretive.

“Who do you work for?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Rapp shoved his pistol back in its holster.

“Seriously, I’d like to know.”

“And seriously”-Rapp shook his head and opened his eyes wide-“I can’t tell you.”

“It must be the CIA.” Rielly kept her eyes on him, trying to get the slightest hint of a reaction. She got nothing.

“It has to be the CIA, otherwise you could tell me.”

“Wrong. Are you a woman of your word?”

“Yes.”

Good. Then someday, if we both make it out of here alive, I’ll tell you my life story.” Rapp smiled, showing a set of long dimples on both cheeks.

Rielly smiled back and nodded.

“So you work for the CIA.”

“I never said that,” replied Rapp.