Pursuit of Honor Part 11

RAPP was thinking on the fly. He wasn't about to explain to Kennedy that Nash had come unhinged in the last twelve hours. She was too perceptive, and she would want to know what the catalyst had been. She would also a.s.sume it was something that had taken place at Hurley's lake house and she would be right. Rapp could fabricate a h.e.l.l of a lie that would stand up to a lot of digging, but there was one weak point. Sometime in the next three days she would have Nash standing in front of her desk just as he was now. She would begin to probe, and if Nash was still in his volatile state and mad at Rapp, he was likely to say a few things that would cause a lot of trouble. Rapp would have to get to him in the meantime and prepare him, but for now, he had to give Kennedy a plausible reason for his newfound respect for d.i.c.kerson's plan. was thinking on the fly. He wasn't about to explain to Kennedy that Nash had come unhinged in the last twelve hours. She was too perceptive, and she would want to know what the catalyst had been. She would also a.s.sume it was something that had taken place at Hurley's lake house and she would be right. Rapp could fabricate a h.e.l.l of a lie that would stand up to a lot of digging, but there was one weak point. Sometime in the next three days she would have Nash standing in front of her desk just as he was now. She would begin to probe, and if Nash was still in his volatile state and mad at Rapp, he was likely to say a few things that would cause a lot of trouble. Rapp would have to get to him in the meantime and prepare him, but for now, he had to give Kennedy a plausible reason for his newfound respect for d.i.c.kerson's plan.

There wasn't a cover story worth a d.a.m.n that wasn't somehow grounded in truth, and Kennedy knew him too well, as was evidenced by her suspicion. Rapp started speaking and before he knew it, the answer was on his lips. "I think Mike is having a hard time with what happened last week."

"So your answer is to thrust him into the spotlight and end his career as a clandestine operative."

Rapp shrugged and tried to play down the obvious. "It wouldn't be ended. There's still plenty of work for him to do around here. He just wouldn't be involved in some of the more risky operations." Rapp watched her eyes burrow through him as if she were trying to read his soul.

"Something happened last night," Kennedy said.

This time it was a statement, as if she knew for certain something had gone on. Rapp sighed and said, "He's burnt out, Irene. This s.h.i.t has really gotten to him. I'm not sure he ever fully recovered from the injuries he suffered over in the Kush." Rapp was referring to an operation they had run in Afghanistan nearly a year ago. The intel had been solid. A high-value target was staying in a village on the border. They had gone in with a Special Forces team right at dawn. Everything was looking good and then the house they were about to raid blew up, killing two troopers and nearly killing Nash. "The docs are still picking shrapnel from him, and his wife tells me he wakes up every morning with an ear-splitting headache. Then last week he sees his secretary and a bunch of his coworkers gunned down by some gun-toting jihadists. Considering what he's been through, it's a wonder he can get out of bed in the morning and face the world."

"And you?" Kennedy asked with a bit of amus.e.m.e.nt in her voice.

"What about me?"

"It could be argued that you've suffered through the same events."

"I wasn't wounded on that operation in the Kush, and I didn't know those people at the NCTC like he did."

"But you've been wounded before."

"And I've always bounced back."

"That's debatable."

Rapp knew she was referring to his lengthy absence after his wife had been killed. "Listen . . . I think it would be a mistake for you to try to compare Mike and me. For starters I've been at this a lot longer, and I think I have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm committed. I-"

"You don't think Mike is committed?" Kennedy asked, cutting him off.

Rapp's frustration was apparent. "Are you going to let me talk or are you going to keep interrupting me?"

Kennedy put on a pleasant smile and said, "By all means, continue."

"I'm not saying Mike isn't committed. I'm saying his life is a little more complicated than mine. He has certain obligations that I don't have."

"His family?"

"Yes. I think this job is really taking its toll on his personal life."

"We are all aware of the pressures that go with this job."

"It's deeper than that, Irene. It's not just the job . . . it's the way the job has crept into his life." Rapp paused for a beat and tried to honestly put his finger on what was going on with Nash. Shaking his head he said, "I think maybe I scare the h.e.l.l out of him."

Kennedy was surprised by Rapp's statement. "Why would Mike have reason to be afraid of you? Has he done something you're not telling me?"

"No . . . it's not that. He hasn't done anything that I know of. I think he's afraid he's going to become me."

"Interesting."

"He has a family to go home to at night, and he has to somehow shut down this portion of his brain that deals with all this c.r.a.p. He has to be a father and a husband. Try to teach those kids the difference between right and wrong. Live up to the ideals of Maggie and rea.s.sure all of them that everything is all right and will be all right . . . when he knows d.a.m.n well the world is a scary place. At some point it creeps into your head that you might not make it home." Rapp paused as he thought of an image he had blocked from his mind. "Just last week he looked down and found his secretary lying on the floor with her brains blown all over the carpeting. Something like that is going to haunt a man for a long time."

Kennedy made a steeple with her hands and asked, "And how do you cope with it?"

Rapp sighed. She'd been trying to get him to discuss his wife's murder for years. "I don't know. I just do."

"I think it's a little more involved than that."

Rapp shrugged. "I'm not normal. I'm wired different."

"So you say," she said in an accusatory tone.

Rapp saw his chance to counterattack. "How do you deal with it?"

"With what?"

"The pressures of the job. You ever sit down and talk to a therapist?"

Kennedy inclined her head and took on a stern look. "That is none of your business."

It wasn't easy to read Kennedy, but Rapp thought he saw something in her eyes. A flash of anger and a look that told him to back off. It was probably as close as he would get to an admission that she had seen a therapist, and in all likelihood it was Lewis. "It's interesting how at this juncture everything becomes a one-way street. As my boss and my friend," Rapp stressed, "you've been very vocal about the fact that I need to sit down with a professional and talk about my pain over the loss of Anna."

"Yes, I have, but don't try to change the subject. This isn't about me. It's about you and Mike."

Rapp was willing to let her off the hook for now. This was about Nash. "It's apples and oranges. For starters . . . I go home to an empty house. I don't have to confront the lie every time I walk through the door."

"The lie?"

"Telling your kids to be good . . . don't cheat in school . . . play life by the rules . . . and, oh, by the way, I just broke five federal laws today and killed a man. That kind of s.h.i.t weighs on a guy after a while."

"It doesn't weigh on you," Kennedy focused her gaze more intently, "just a little bit?"

Rapp was surprised that he actually paused to think about it. As crazy as it was, no one had asked him this question in a long time. "Which part of the job?"

"All of it, but let's start with the part that most people would have a hard time with. The killing."

Rapp shook his head. "It's never bothered me. The guys I'm whacking aren't exactly upstanding citizens."

Kennedy had read every after-action report he'd written and verbally debriefed him on the ones that were too sensitive to put in writing. She knew Rapp wasn't big on detail or blowing his own horn, so more often than not she got a very abbreviated version of what had gone down. "You've never accidentally killed an innocent bystander?"

"Define innocent . . . if you're talking some rent-a-bodyguard who's hired to protect some piece of s.h.i.t, he's not exactly innocent in my book. You wanna play tough guy mercenary, you'd better understand the bullets are real."

Kennedy nodded. They'd covered some of this territory before.

Rapp considered it further, took a kernel of an emotion and decided to blow it up. Turn it into something Kennedy would get. "The only thing that weighs on me is not having his life."

"What do you mean, 'his life'?"

"I'd leave this s.h.i.t in a heartbeat if I could turn back the clock and have Anna back. When he's in town, he goes home to that family and they're his. Those kids love him and the dumb s.h.i.t takes it for granted. When you don't have something," Rapp caught himself and added, "when you've had something that meant more than anything in the world to you, and it was taken away . . . it's hard to imagine why anyone would want to do this s.h.i.t when the price is that high."

Kennedy didn't speak for a long time, and then she said, "You know it's not too late for you, Mitch? You're in your early forties."

"You mean to find someone else. Settle down, have a bunch of kids." Rapp shook his head. "Not so sure it's for me. Besides, someone has to do this job, and I don't see too many guys with my skill set ready to step into the breach."

"I'm sure I could find someone else."

With a confident grin, Rapp asked, "And do you think they could do it as well?"

"I doubt it." Kennedy reflected on the subject and began to see that maybe Rapp was coming at it from the right place. "So your solution, as far as Mike is concerned, is to let d.i.c.kerson turn him into the CIA's poster boy?"

"I haven't worked out the details yet, but, yeah . . . that's pretty much the plan."

"And you think he'll go along with this?"

"Not sure, but we don't have to give him a choice in the matter."

Kennedy shook her head. "I don't think he'll like it."

"He probably won't at first, but I think he'll come around pretty quick."

Kennedy winced. "I don't know, Mitch . . . He's not as stubborn as you, but he's pretty close."

"When he sees how proud Maggie and the kids are . . ." Rapp smiled, "all will be forgiven."

"I'll think about."

"Good." Rapp checked his watch. "I gotta get going. I need to-"

Kennedy stopped him. "Yes, you do. You need to get out to Dulles. Your friends have requested a meeting."

"Which friends?"

"Your counterparts from across the pond."

"Oh." These neutral-site, face-to-face meetings were a recent development. "How much time do I have?"

"If you don't want to keep them waiting, you need to be wheels up in fifty minutes."

Rapp swore to himself. He always kept a go bag packed in his car, so that wasn't a concern, but he needed to talk to Scott Coleman and get him to sweep Lewis's office.

"Anything I can help with?" Kennedy offered.

Rapp almost laughed at the question but before he could reply there was a muted knock on the door and then it opened. Rapp looked over to see six-foot-three Chuck O'Brien enter the room. The ruddyfaced director of the National Clandestine Service had been with Langley for thirty-three years, and if Rapp was reading his clenched jaw and austere expression right, they were about to get some bad news.

"Sorry to intrude," O'Brien covered the distance in a few long strides and pulled up next to Rapp, "but some info just got kicked up to me."

"What's that?" Kennedy asked.

"Apparently, Glen Adams decided to take a little unauthorized trip."

"Huh?" Rapp asked, more than a little surprised that the alarm bells were already being sounded that the CIA's inspector general had gone missing.

Kennedy asked, "Where to?"

"Venezuela," O'Brien answered. "He landed in Caracas about an hour and a half ago. Left JFK late last night."

"Caracas?" Kennedy asked with a puzzled look on her face. "Why Caracas? Does he have any relatives down there?"

"Not that I know of."

Kennedy slowly turned her gaze to Rapp. "Any idea why Glen Adams would take an unannounced trip to Venezuela?"

Rapp unflinchingly returned his boss's stare, shook his head twice, and said, "How the h.e.l.l would I know? We're not exactly drinking buddies."

CHAPTER 26.

FORTUNATELY for Rapp, Scott Coleman wasn't big on sleep. The retired Navy SEAL had returned home from the operation in New York at 4:00 A.M. and after three short hours of sack time he'd gotten up and started his day. By the time Rapp called, Coleman had already hit the gym and gotten in a five-mile run. Coleman confirmed that he could meet Rapp at one of their usual spots in twenty minutes. Rapp grabbed his go bag from the trunk of his sedan and took a quick shower in the men's locker room of Langley's fitness center. Ten minutes after leaving Kennedy's office he was in his car and heading west. for Rapp, Scott Coleman wasn't big on sleep. The retired Navy SEAL had returned home from the operation in New York at 4:00 A.M. and after three short hours of sack time he'd gotten up and started his day. By the time Rapp called, Coleman had already hit the gym and gotten in a five-mile run. Coleman confirmed that he could meet Rapp at one of their usual spots in twenty minutes. Rapp grabbed his go bag from the trunk of his sedan and took a quick shower in the men's locker room of Langley's fitness center. Ten minutes after leaving Kennedy's office he was in his car and heading west.

Rapp exited the main gate, got onto Dolley Madison Boulevard, and grabbed his phone. After searching his address book he found the mobile number for Maggie Nash and punched the call b.u.t.ton. Through his Bluetooth earpiece he listened to the line ring.

On the fifth chime a familiar upbeat voice answered, "Maggie Nash."

"Hi, Maggie . . . it's Mitch. How are you?"

"Fine," she answered in a cautious voice.

Maggie was a great person and Rapp had always gotten along with her. He knew immediately by the uncertainty in her voice that she had talked with her husband. "You spoke with Mike?"

"Yes."

Rapp had to mult.i.task. He had to get Maggie to see things from his perspective and he had to make sure he made it to his next meeting without the wrong person or group following him. Fortunately, he had grown up only a few miles from Langley and knew the winding residential streets as if he'd laid them out himself. It was the ideal terrain to detect surveillance. With all the parks and creeks there were a lot of dead-ends and if it turned out the FBI was following him he could always fall back on the fact that there were hundreds of foreign spies in Washington who would love to know what he was up to. Being security conscious, and aware of America's enemies, was a big part of his job. That was both his reality and his cover, but the sad fact was that he was now more worried about his own government following him than the Chinese or the Russians.

"Did he tell you we had a little problem this morning?"

"Yes."

"Maggie, I don't expect you to take any side other than your husband's, but I'd like you to hear me out on a few things."

"I'm listening."

"I care a great deal about you and the kids. I think of Mike as a brother. I'd risk my life to save him and he'd do the same for me." Rapp cut down Vincent Place and turned onto Elm Street two short blocks later. The truth was he had already risked his life to save him and Maggie knew it. "I'm worried about him."

Maggie sighed and emotion flooded her voice, "I don't know what happened between you two this morning . . . he wouldn't talk about it, but I do know he is extremely upset and because you guys live such a screwed-up life, and can't talk about anything that you do, I don't have the slightest idea how to help him."