by Vince Flynn
Durrani’s anger flashed, and then he got a grip on it. “You made a promise. I have arranged everything. You are safe in my country. I have even gone so far as to arrange a new identity for you. You must follow through on your side of the bargain. I want the names of the American spies.”
Rickman stroked the large head of his Rottweiler. “When Vazir gets back from Zurich, we will see how things are, and then I will decide when and how I will begin sharing that information.”
“That was not our deal!” Durrani shouted.
The Rottweiler’s eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth. Rickman calmed him and said, “The deal has changed. You did that when you decided to interfere with my assassin. Now we will have to wait and see.”
Durrani was furious. “I could have you killed,” he hissed. “Or better yet, I will nurse you back to health and have you beaten to a pulp again. How would you like that, you stupid American? You think you are so smart… well, you are not so smart. I hold all of the cards here. I am the one who decides if you will live or die.”
The laughter hurt, but even so Rickman couldn’t stop. When he finally caught his breath he said, “You think you have me by the balls, General?”
Durrani did not like Rickman’s tone, but he was not about to back down. “I could have you killed right now.”
“Yes, you could, and then in a month or so you would die as well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are so naive, General. Do you think I’m foolish enough to put my life in your hands and not have an insurance policy?”
“You are bluffing.”
“No, that’s not my style. I plan, I don’t bluff. I have taken certain precautions. I’ve hired multiple lawyers and gave them very specific instructions that if they don’t hear from me at prearranged intervals they are to mail an encrypted file to Director Kennedy and a few other select people.”
Durrani wanted to think it was a lie, but Rickman was devious and untrustworthy. “What kind of information?”
“Very detailed information that implicates you in all of this.”
“What could you possibly be thinking? That is reckless… what if these lawyers take a look at the information?”
Rickman knew this would drive Durrani nuts. The specter of an unknown number of people possessing information that could expose him, ruin everything he’d worked for and probably get him killed, was too much to absorb for a control freak. It would likely keep him up at nights for years to come. If he lived that long. The important thing for now was to keep him as levelheaded as possible while making him understand that he did not hold all the cards. “It’s encrypted, and don’t worry, they are people I trust. They have no desire to look at the files. They know they contain information that could get them killed.” Rickman scratched his dog’s neck and said, “You have nothing to worry about as long as you honor our agreement.”
“You are the one who needs to honor our agreement. The senator says he needs the information so he can move against Rapp and Kennedy.”
That might have been true, but until Rickman was confident that Rapp wasn’t coming after him, Senator Ferris would have to wait. “Let’s see how things go in Zurich.”
“You are a fool.”
“Really,” Rickman answered in an amused tone. “I think it is actually very pragmatic of me.
“I’m talking about giving such valuable information to people I cannot trust. It’s foolish.”
“It’s actually very smart, although probably not all that smart considering your history.”
Durrani shook his head and scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s pretty obvious that you have a habit of killing the people you work with.”
“That is an exaggeration.”
“Not really, so the fact that I took a few precautions is just common sense. It’s not particularly smart.”
If Durrani thought it would solve his problems he would kill Rickman and his crazy dog, but he needed the American to complete his plan. It was time to change gears and find common ground. “Joe, you must understand… you are different. We have discussed this. You understand the stupidity of your country’s folly in Afghanistan. You knew it almost from the beginning, but you did your job. You saw the people you despised become rich beyond their wildest dreams, all with American cash provided by you.” Durrani pointed at him. “You fought valiantly and then you saw the light. America should not be in Afghanistan, and they most certainly shouldn’t be giving money and weapons to the very people who are already turning against them. You saw the injustice and you took the money, but you needed an ally to help you disappear. I am that ally. Your dream could not have come true if it wasn’t for me.”
“General, I am not disagreeing with you,” Rickman said, wondering why Durrani had to take everything so personally. “I am simply saying the timing isn’t right. I’m happy to hear that we have a special relationship. And the best way to keep it that way is to make sure neither of us tries to bully the other into doing something that we do not want to do. Surely you must see that.”
Durrani was not used to sharing power. He didn’t like the lack of control, but until he could find a way to dismantle Rickman’s network of lawyers, he would have to play this game. “I see your point,” he said, even though he didn’t. “But surely you can see where I am coming from. I have put a great deal into this, yet so far I have seen no return for my effort, and if we are to carry out the next phase of our plan and embroil the CIA in scandal, we need to begin passing your information on to Senator Ferris.”
This was the one part of the plan that Rickman had never fully embraced. Senator Ferris was a windbag, and although Rickman felt strongly that America should not be involved in Afghanistan, the idea of Senator Ferris getting credit for America changing its policy turned his stomach. Now was not the time to discuss the senator, though. “General, I don’t believe for a second that you have seen no return on your investment. I’ve heard the enthusiasm in your voice. You are very proud, and you should be. You have conducted one of the greatest intelligence operations of the modern era, and I have no doubt that when the proper amount of time has passed you will let the world know, and you will bask in the accolades of your countrymen. But until then you may enjoy the knowledge… the extreme satisfaction, that you have outsmarted perhaps the greatest intelligence agency in the world.”
Chapter 53
Zurich, Switzerland
Rapp’s anxiety increased as the heavy sedan climbed its way up the mountain road. Europe had become a major pain in the ass. Gone were the days when you could slip in and out of a country or a town without being noticed. Now there were cameras everywhere, even in the little hamlets that dotted the Swiss countryside. Customs and law enforcement databases were linked, and everybody was either online or texting or talking on an always available cell phone. Getting into a country like Switzerland wasn’t necessarily the problem. Even killing someone like Obrecht was manageable. The problem was what happened in the aftermath. You left a digital footprint as you traveled, and investigators had gotten really good at assembling the puzzle and coming up with a suspect.
The fear of getting caught after the fact was very real, as the Israelis had learned firsthand when they’d sent a team of agents into Dubai to kill Mahmoud al-Mabhouh, a senior Hamas official. Customs computers and cameras, as well as hotel security cameras, had captured the entire team assembling for the operation and then leaving. The lesson was simple: Sneaking into a country to snoop and steal was still fairly easy, but once you started killing people you had better find a way to erase your digital footprint or you were going to have your photo plastered all over the BBC and every other twenty-four-hour news channel.
As a result, operations were increasingly complex. Instead of flying directly into Zurich and having to clear customs, the group landed at Ramstein Air Base, where the appropriate stamps were placed on their passports to make it look as if they had arrived in Frankfur
t, Germany, two days earlier. Local assets then moved the group to a nearby private airstrip where they boarded a second jet for the short flight to Zurich. With EU customs already cleared the group of eight deplaned at the private jet terminal, and loaded their gear into two waiting BMW 7 Series sedans. Among them they had six assault rifles, twelve pistols, a pound of plastic explosives and a wide variety of technical gear. None of it would have made it through normal customs.
The only security camera they spotted was at the gate, and the heavily tinted windows of their BMWs rendered them useless. It was Saturday afternoon and the advance team had informed them after landing at Ramstein that Obrecht had left his townhouse in Zurich and had traveled to his estate near Lake Constance. They emailed aerial video of the place that had been taken by a small drone. Rapp, Hurley and Coleman took a moment to review the footage, and none of them liked what they saw. Hurley was surprised by the size of the estate, while Coleman was worried about the number of men who appeared to be guarding the place.
For close to seventy years elements within the CIA had maintained a very good relationship with a Swiss bank owned by the Ohlmeyer family. After watching the surveillance video, Rapp said to Hurley, “I think you need to reach out to the Ohlmeyers and find out what they know about this guy. There’s no way he’s a simple private banker. If he owns a place like this he must own the whole bank, and if he owns the whole bank, what in the hell is he doing managing someone like Gould?”
The interrogation with Gould had been brief, due to the fact that they had to catch a plane, but they got what they needed in terms of Obrecht. Or at least that’s what Rapp had thought at the time.
“I told you we should have brought him along,” Hurley said, referring to Gould. “The little shit lied to us.”
Gould had told them that Obrecht had been more than his private banker. He was also his handler, setting up contracts and negotiating prices with his prospective employers. “So he knows who hired you to kill me?” Rapp had asked back in the interrogation cell. Gould would not commit to that point, as Obrecht rarely met face-to-face with prospective employers, but he did handle the transfer of funds, which could likely lead to the person who had put the price on Rapp’s head.
Rapp looked at the video of the massive estate. It had to be worth at least $25 million. He got the pissed-off feeling that Gould had played them. “There’s no way this guy is just your average banker.”
“Could be family money,” Coleman suggested.
That was when Rapp put Marcus Dumond on the problem of finding out who owned the estate. Dumond, their resident computer expert, was not having a good day. He’d spent the majority of the flight trying and failing to hack into Obrecht’s bank’s computer system. Rapp had rarely seen Dumond so frustrated.
Rapp had come to the conclusion that Gould had likely lied to them. As to Hurley’s point, that they should have brought Gould along, Rapp couldn’t bear to spend another second with the man. He made him sick, and if Kennedy was serious about keeping him alive, she needed to keep them apart, because Rapp wanted to kill him.
Even though the prospects didn’t look good, they continued on the second leg of the journey. They might not be able to get their hands on Obrecht while he sat behind the walls of his estate, but he couldn’t stay there forever. On Sunday night, more than likely, he would have to make the return trip to Zurich. The winding mountain roads would provide the perfect opportunity for an ambush.
Rapp sat behind the wheel and Hurley was in the front passenger seat. Dumond and Hayek were in back, Dumond still trying to hack into the bank while Hayek tried to get a lead on Obrecht’s mobile phone with a digitized scanner. Gould had given them a number, but so far they weren’t getting a thing, which meant that either the phone was turned off or Gould had lied again.
They met the advance team on the outskirts of a small town called Engwilen. It was a male-female team, which Rapp was happy to see as it was easier for them to blend in and look like a couple. They had made one pass by the main gate to confirm what the drone had already shown. Four men in dark blue SWAT uniforms were at the main gate and at least one dog and his handler could be seen halfway up the driveway. Rapp watched the video they had taken and said, “It looks like a frickin’ G Eight summit.”
Rapp and Hurley stood around the trunk of the first BMW with Coleman and the couple and asked questions for another ten minutes. The entire thing looked hopeless. The couple said they were fairly certain the place had an advanced security system around the perimeter of the property and that they assumed the house would have one as well. Beyond that, they’d used the drone to count a total of eight bodyguards. How many more were in the house was anybody’s guess.
They all agreed that the smartest course was to wait for Obrecht to leave the estate and take him on the way back to Zurich. In the meantime Hayek would coordinate with Langley to see if they could get signal interception on the house and Dumond would continue to try to hack into the bank’s secure server.
Coleman took his men into the town to scout things out and see if there was an inn without security cameras where they might be able to spend the night. Rapp and Hurley stood at the rear of the car, neither speaking for a long while. They were both in dark suits with lightweight overcoats. The temperature was in the midfifties, but the afternoon sun was making things warm.
Hurley lit a cigarette and exhaled. He tilted his face skyward and took in the warmth of the sun. “Do you know what’s strange?”
“There’s a lot of strange shit, Stan. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Hurley opened one eye and squinted at Rapp. “I feel good.”
“That’s nice.”
“I mean I’m at peace with the whole thing.”
They didn’t talk for over a minute and then Hurley asked, “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Hurley asked.
“Yeah,” Rapp replied. “But they’ll have cameras at the gate.”
Hurley shrugged. “Who gives a shit… I’ll be dead in six months.”
“Why do you keep talking like that?”
“Because it’s true,” Hurley said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Rapp thought about it for a moment and then said, “It might be, but-”
“Don’t waste your breath,” Hurley said, cutting him off. “You and I don’t bullshit each other… let’s not start now.”
Hurley was right. They’d always been honest with each other, at least after the first year or two. Now wasn’t the time to start denying the truth. Besides, it was his death. He could choose to deal with it in whatever way worked for him.
“All right, let’s go.” Rapp pushed off the car. “You have your Interpol creds?”
“Never leave home without them.”
“Good. I’ll text Scott and let him know.”
The climbed into the car and Rapp fired up the engine. He slipped the car into gear and pulled out on the smooth country road.
“Where are we going?” Hayek asked from the backseat.
“Stan wants to knock on Obrecht’s door.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Hurley shook his head. “I don’t joke about stuff like this, princess.”
“But… I thought we were going to wait for him to drive back to Zurich tomorrow.”
“We could,” Rapp said.
“But it might get messy,” Hurley added. “I’m going to knock on the front door instead. You might be surprised how often it works.”
“And if it doesn’t,” Rapp said, “it still might.”
“How?” Hayek didn’t understand anything they were saying.
“Spook him,” Hurley said. “Right now he’s comfortable, thinking everything is fine. We rattle his cage and he might turn that phone on that you’re trying to get a line on. He might fly the coop; he might do anything that would be better for us than spending the night in some boring town and then finding out tomorrow that he doesn’t travel by motorcade back to the city
but takes a helicopter instead.”
Hayek didn’t have a lot of time to consider the new plan, as only a few minutes later they pulled off the road across the street from the main gate to Obrecht’s estate. Hurley handed Rapp a set of credentials and checked to make sure his fake Interpol identification was in order.
Rapp looked out the windshield at the four bodyguards. “What do you think… rent-a-cops or the real deal?”
Hurley watched the men for a moment and said, “They look like the real deal to me.”
“Me too.”
“No sense in trying to bully my way, then. I’ll make some easy conversation and then leave them a calling card.” And with that, Hurley was out the door. “Wish me luck.”
Rapp watched him cross the street. No one knew Hurley’s exact age, but Rapp guessed he was in his early to mid seventies, although he knew he could easily be off. The man moved like someone twenty years younger but his face showed the wear of someone who had been through a lot of rough stuff.
“Dammit,” Dumond barked from the backseat.
Rapp looked in the rearview mirror to see what was wrong. Dumond had attended MIT with Rapp’s little brother Steven. The computer genius had run afoul of the Feds for hacking into some of New York’s biggest banks. Rapp had Kennedy intervene on Dumond’s behalf. Rather than go to jail, the whiz kid decided to come to work for Langley. Rapp had rarely if ever seen him so frustrated. “What’s wrong, Marcus?”
“This is bullshit, Mitch.”
“You still can’t get in?”
“I can’t even get close.”
“Why?”
“These guys are using heavy-duty shit. Like the stuff the Chinese use, and our buddies out at Fort Meade-I’m talking cutting-edge stuff.”
Rapp didn’t know a lot about what Dumond did, but he tried to help. “Would it be better if you were back at Langley on a bigger computer… faster hookup speed?”
Dumond looked at Rapp’s reflection in the mirror with a “don’t even try to act like you know what you’re talking about” look.
