Consent to Kill (31 page)

If all went according to plan, the gas cans would be knocked over by the initial explosion. The cascading fuel would reach the underside of the large tank almost immediately. The fireball from the house would ignite the gas which in turn would mix with the slow leak from the large tank. The secondary explosion would obliterate the extension cord, the remote receiving unit, the gas cans, and probably the entire house. With no evidence left, all fingers would be pointed at the Chesapeake Bay Propane Company.

R
app came out of his drug-induced sleep feeling groggy and disoriented. After a moment he realized he was in a hospital room. He looked down the length of his body at his knee. His leg was there, but he couldn’t feel anything. It was propped up in the air and covered with a blanket. Her touch was so gentle he didn’t even notice at first that she was holding his hand. He slowly turned his head and looked into his wife’s beautiful green eyes. Rapp blinked several times and looked around the room. The shades were drawn. He had no idea how long he’d been out. When he looked back at Anna, she smiled her perfect smile and asked him how he felt.

“Thirsty,” he answered in a hoarse voice.

She raised the bed up a few degrees and gave him some water through a straw. “The doctor says you did great.”

Rapp looked around the room again. “What time is it?”

“A little before eleven.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes.”

Rapp rubbed his eyes. “When can we get the hell out of here?”

She smiled. “I told them you wouldn’t want to wait around.”

“Can you open the shades?”

Rielly got up and pulled back the heavy gray plastic curtains.

Rapp squinted. He had the twisted look on his face that belongs to an extremely hungover man who is forced to endure the bright midday light without sunglasses. Anna knew there was no way they could keep him in bed for two more hours so she left to find his doctor. They came back a few minutes later and the doctor pulled back the sheet covering Rapp’s legs. He carefully unwound the Ace bandage and removed the ice pack. Rapp looked at his knee. It was yellow from the betadine they’d used to sanitize it for surgery. Rapp was surprised that it wasn’t more swollen and said so. The doctor explained that the surgery had gone very well. He’d cleaned out the cartilage and removed two bone spurs that were the likely cause of most of the discomfort.

“Can you feel anything, yet?” the doctor asked.

Rapp wondered which answer would get him home quicker. “A little bit.”

“Does it hurt?”

Rapp shrugged.

The doctor nodded. “Since you’ve been running around on this thing for as long as you have, my guess is you have a pretty high tolerance for pain. Your wife said you’d like to get home as soon as possible.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel?” the doctor asked.

“Fine,” Rapp lied. He had a splitting headache and was slightly nauseated.

“Your wife says you don’t want to take anything stronger than Tylenol Three.”

Rapp nodded.

“Good, but if you change your mind, call and we’ll get you something better.”

“The Tylenol will be fine.”

“I’ll get the nurse to give you a five-day supply. You’re in great shape, so I think you’re going to recover quickly.”

Rapp sat up a little more. “When can I start running again?”

“I’d like to see you give it up altogether, but since I know that isn’t going to happen, you should wait at least a month.”

“A month?” Rapp asked, obviously not happy with the answer.

The truth was two weeks, but the doctor dealt with guys like this all the time. No matter what he told them, they’d divide by two. “You can do some light biking in four days, and you can try swimming as long as it doesn’t hurt, but I really want you to lay off the running for at least four weeks. The first step though is to stay off it for the next forty-eight hours and you have to ice it every other hour.” He looked at Anna. “When he goes to bed tonight, elevate the knee with a couple of pillows and put ice on it. Try to get up at least once and change the ice pack. Above all, though, make sure he stays off it and he keeps it elevated.”

“When can I leave?” asked Rapp again.

“I’ll get the paperwork started, and we’ll get you out of here in no time.”

Rapp’s idea of no time was fifteen minutes. The doctor’s was an hour, so it was 12:07 by the time they wheeled him out the front door. He was dressed in a pair of workout shorts and a blue Syracuse T-shirt. His knee was bandaged and he noticed for the first time someone had placed a powder blue booty on his left foot. Anna had the car pulled up to the curb and was standing by the open passenger door. Before the orderly could help, Rapp pushed himself out of the chair and put one hand on the open door and the other on the car’s roof. He hopped into position and lowered himself into the seat. Anna helped him with the seatbelt and closed the door.

She got behind the wheel and pulled away from the hospital. “You must be starving.”

Rapp dug through the glove box and found an old pair of sunglasses he kept in her car. Even though it was a slightly overcast day, the light was really bugging him. “Not really,” he answered. “It must be the drugs.”

“Straight home then?”

“Yeah.”

They cruised through the light midday traffic and within ten minutes they were nearing the Beltway. Rapp was starting to feel better. Up ahead he spotted the golden arches and suddenly he was extremely hungry all over again.

“Let’s stop at this McDonald’s on the right.”

“McDonald’s?” she asked in a disapproving tone. Rielly was extremely health conscious.

“Honey, humor me. I’m starving.”

“All right.” She reluctantly hit the turn signal.

A few seconds later they were in the drive-through lane and Rapp was placing his order. When he was done he asked Anna if she wanted anything. She relented enough to order a Diet Coke and small fries.

Back on the road Rapp tore into his Big Mac with a fury. In between gulps of Coke and fistfuls of fries he finished the Big Mac in short order and moved on to a Quarter Pounder with cheese.

Anna sipped on her Diet Coke and frowned. “You might want to slow down, honey.”

Rapp kept eating and she kept driving. He’d finished every last scrap of food and was working on his large Coke when they turned onto their street. Rapp leaned back and said, “That really tasted good, but why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret eating it?”

“Maybe because you just consumed an entire day’s worth of calories, and enough fat, salt, and sugar to last you a week.”

Rapp knew she was right, but he turned to her and said, “Oh, was it ever delicious though.”

“You’re definitely going to regret it.”

Rapp looked down the road. Their house was coming up on the left. A sweat was forming on his forehead and upper lip. His stomach turned and he felt a little light-headed. He looked over at Anna and said, “I think I already am.”

A
fter leaving the house, Gould drove up to Annapolis and ditched the ladder in an alley. Out on Riva Road he wiped down the handles of the propane tanks and left them behind a gas station. The rest of the stuff, with the exception of the two remaining gas cans, was thrown into a garbage bag and tossed in a Dumpster behind a grocery store. It was 10:23 when he got back to the hotel, and he was relieved to find Claudia packed and ready to go. Gould changed into his biking clothes and helped her go over the room one last time to make sure they’d wiped away any fingerprints. When they were done he used the express checkout function on the TV and they left the hotel through a side door.

Gould opened the back hatch of the rented Ford Explorer and lifted out his mountain bike. He set it in the pickup bed and asked Claudia, “Any questions?”

She looked like she might say something for a moment and then she simply shook her head.

“Go to Galesville and do a little shopping. Get some lunch if you want, but make sure you’ve got a signal on your phone at all times. As soon as I’m in position I’ll call.”

Claudia reached out and grabbed his face. “I know you’re worried about me, but you do not have to be. I want to be done with this more than you do.”

This was exactly what Gould wanted to hear. He put his hands on Claudia’s waist. “Good. Be ready to move in case I need you.” He kissed her on the lips and then whispered in her ear, “Let’s get through the next few hours, and then we’ll put it all behind us.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Gould held her for a long moment and then opened her car door. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

G
OULD HAD MISSED
the path that first night when they’d followed Rapp’s wife home, but when he and Claudia took their bikes by the house the next morning it jumped right out at him. There were no posted signs. He didn’t need to say anything to Claudia, she just followed him. As far as Gould could tell it wasn’t maintained by anyone. It was simply a dirt path, worn by use and use alone. They followed it for just under a mile through the woods until it split. The trail to the left led to a small public beach and to the right it joined up with a dirt road that ran along the edge of a small grass landing strip. Gould followed the dirt road until it hooked up with a county road and noted the spot on the map. On the way back he noted a few places where he could leave a vehicle.

He was now on that road, and so far his luck was holding. There wasn’t a soul around. Up ahead he spotted the big oak tree he’d seen the day before and he pulled the truck as far off the road as he could. Gould put on his backpack and helmet and took out the mountain bike. Right as he was about to get on the bike, the tracking device in his backpack beeped. Gould took the pack off and looked at the GPS locator. Rielly’s car was on the move. He clipped the device to one of the backpack’s shoulder straps with a carabiner and got on the bike. He wanted to be settled in well before they got there.

It took him only five minutes to bike through the woods, and then he continued past Rapp’s house for a few hundred yards and came back. He was fairly confident that no one was about, so when he got back to Rapp’s house he hopped off the bike and picked it up with his right hand. He stepped over the first bit of grass carefully and then had to duck under the leafy branches and twist around others. He did not have to go far to find decent concealment—maybe twenty feet. He set the bike down on its side and took off the backpack. He pulled out a camouflaged hunting poncho and the 9mm Glock. He screwed the silencer onto the end of the Glock and chambered a round. The underside of the backpack had a large pocket. Gould unzipped it and slid the pistol in, silencer first. He shouldered the backpack again and checked to make sure he could reach around and grab the weapon. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.

Gould opened his phone and punched in Claudia’s number. She answered on the first ring and he said, “They’re on their way.”

“Good. Is everything set?”

“Yes.”

“If you need me let me know.”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you in a little bit.” He hit the End button and switched the phone over to the silent mode.

Gould lay down flat and covered his upper body and most of the bike with the hunting poncho. Its muted green and brown pattern blended in perfectly with the surrounding foliage. The air felt heavy like it was going to rain, which would be welcome as long as it didn’t come too early. He needed the fire to destroy the majority of the evidence. After that the rain would help destroy it even further.

Gould was keenly aware of the GPS tracker and followed the progress of the vehicle closely. When they were two miles away, Gould turned the device off and picked up the handheld remote for the switch. It was a small black device similar in looks and size to the keyless door remotes sold with cars. Gould was careful not to press the button. He held the device gently in his right hand and focused on his breathing.

A short while later he heard a car approaching. He closed his eyes and listened intently. It had to be them. The noise grew and he looked to his left to get a glimpse of the vehicle but the woods were too thick. Gould held his position and waited. Patience was an integral part of any ambush. It would all be over in a minute as long as he held still. Rapp would walk in the house and he would die. No American would ever know he’d been here, and although they might suspect foul play, there would be no way to prove it. Rapp’s enemies were terrorists, men who were not known for their subtle skills. What terrorist would ever go to the effort to make Rapp’s death look like an accident? The answer was none. If it was a terrorist group, they would have driven a car bomb right through the front door and then called every media outlet available and taken credit for the death of Mitch Rapp. As much as they would hate the fact that their great counterterrorist operative had been killed by a gas explosion, a mere accident, the Americans would have no choice but to believe it, no matter the suspicions they harbored.

The car approached from the left and was almost even with his position when he got his first glimpse of it. The BMW slowed and then turned into the driveway. Gould caught a quick glimpse of Rapp’s profile, and the hair on his arms rose. He forced himself to stay put for a little longer. He watched the car as it came to a stop in front of the garage and then rose up on one knee. Even though it was doubtful that Rapp would ever look in this direction, Gould was careful to keep most of his body behind a tree. The driver’s side door opened first. Rapp’s wife hopped out and Gould watched her with complete detachment. He’d already rationalized it away. She was well aware of who her husband was. She was what the Americans liked to call collateral damage. In the larger scope of the mission she was an acceptable loss. Gould had no doubt that Rapp would feel the same way if the roles were reversed.

Anna hurried around to the passenger side and opened the back door. She bent in and came out with a pair of crutches. The front door opened and a leg swung out. Gould tensed only slightly. Rapp grabbed the door frame and pulled himself from the car. The dog that had followed Gould around earlier came running up. They appeared to be more concerned with getting Rapp in the house than saying hello to the dog, so Gould couldn’t tell if the dog was theirs or the neighbors’. Gould noted that Rapp didn’t look very good. It was probably from the surgery. Rapp hopped on one leg, got the crutches right, and then the two of them started down the sidewalk. The dog followed them. They now had their backs to his position. Gould got to his feet and kept the poncho over his head and shoulders. He stayed in a crouch and began quietly working his way to the road. There were no other noises. No cars, only a few birds chirping.

He reached the edge of the woods as she slid the key into the door. Gould dropped the poncho and extended the small black handheld remote. He was ready to sprint across the street if the distance was too great. The door opened and she stepped in first. Rapp remained on the threshold for an excruciating second and then he followed her in. Gould pressed the remote and there was nothing. He pressed it again, and began walking across the road. He pointed the device toward the garage. Still nothing happened. Gould had reached the start of their driveway and he was about to press the button yet again when he realized they had left the car door open. He paused for a split second and realized Rielly would have to come back out and close the door. His thumb remained poised above the button. He heard Claudia’s words, asking him to not harm the wife. Gould swore to himself.

Straight ahead there was no cover, only the openness of the driveway and their front lawn. To the left there were trees and a few bushes. Gould broke into a sprint and started counting. He knew the house door could remain open for easily a minute if not longer, but he wasn’t going to wait anywhere near that long. He would give her ten seconds and that was all. When he reached the clump of light blue hydrangeas he was at five seconds and a good twenty feet closer to the house than where he’d tested it from this morning. It was then that Gould realized the weather had changed. The air was heavier. Instead of hiding behind the hydrangeas he started moving again and kept his eyes on the front door. At eight seconds he heard her voice from inside the house. His arm was still extended. When he finished his count he pressed the button. At exactly the same moment she appeared in the doorway. Gould swore that for the briefest of moments they made eye contact, and then the explosion tore through the still afternoon air. An orange fireball burst from the house, sending glass, splintered wood, and Rapp’s wife flying.

Gould dropped to a knee and buried his head between his arms. He wasn’t overly worried about the first explosion. It was the big propane tank that gave him the greatest concern, and he was right. The second explosion, far more violent than the first, let loose a concussive blast that hit Gould with a heat wave that knocked him from his crouched position to the ground. Debris rained down all around him and he struggled to get to his feet. His glasses and bike helmet were still on but knocked askew. He straightened them and noticed a stinging sensation on his left arm. He looked down to find the hair on his forearm gone and his skin turning a bright pink. His ears were ringing, and he felt a bit disoriented. He remembered there was one thing left that he had to do. He ignored the pain and took a step toward the BMW. He wanted to get the bug and tracking device from the vehicle. He didn’t make it more than a step. The vehicle was on fire. He hesitated for a second and a voice told him to get the hell out of there.

Gould ran back into the woods, picking up the poncho and stuffing it in his backpack. He picked up the bike and hustled back to the road. Before coming out he looked both ways to see if anyone was coming. The street was still empty. He wheeled the bike up onto the road and looked at the house, or what little was left of it. The roof and most of the garage were gone. Trees were on fire, as was the BMW, and none of it showed any signs of slowing. Gould started pedaling. He swerved to miss a chunk of wood with shingles still attached. The entire lawn was littered with junk. Next to a tree about thirty feet from the front door Gould saw two legs sticking out beneath a pile of debris. She had been in the doorway when the blast occurred and that would have been about where she’d landed. Gould didn’t give it much thought, but it was possible that she was still alive. The important thing now, though, was to get as far away from here as quickly as possible. The blast would have been heard for miles around and it was sure to attract people. Gould raised his butt off the seat, put his head down, and started pedaling as fast as he could.