Consent to Kill (56 page)

V
IENNA
, A
USTRIA

T
he two Saudis were on their backs, their ankles and hands bound with white flex cuffs and duct tape stretched tightly over their mouths and eyes. The bigger man’s elbow wound had been bandaged, not because they were concerned for his health, but because they didn’t want to have to clean up any more blood. It had taken an entire bag of cat litter just to soak up the puddle of blood that had poured out of the third man’s head. Milt’s team was used to this stuff. Within minutes they were running around town purchasing a vacuum, cleaning solutions, a two-wheeler, cat litter, duct tape, rolls of heavy plastic, and even a fifty-inch projection TV. The TV was left in an alley not far from where it had been purchased, and the box was saved.

Rapp looked on, as the guy he’d shot in the head was wrapped up in plastic, duct-taped, and then placed in the large TV box. None of them were carrying IDs, but Rapp was willing to bet the farm they were Saudis. The big guy with the busted elbow was left on the floor while the other guy was knocked out with a needle full of Xanax to the thigh, and tossed in the box on top of his dead friend. Milt’s guys resealed the box with clear packing tape and took it away on the two-wheeler. The dead guy would be chopped up into pieces and dropped into vats of industrial acid. The second guy they weren’t sure what they’d do with, but after listening to the woman tell them how she’d been brutally beaten and raped, Rapp was tempted to cut the guy’s balls off, shove them down his throat, and let him choke to death.

Coleman and Sarah were in the other room trying to talk to the woman. They’d given her a much smaller dose of Xanax to help calm her down. She was making too much noise. She told them how she had answered her apartment door the previous night and the big man had been standing there. The next thing she remembered was waking up in a basement somewhere and then the beating started. They wanted to know where her boss was. So did Coleman and Sarah, but they didn’t push it. After all this woman had been through she was not going to respond well to rough or even assertive behavior. They listened and asked a few gentle questions to help nudge her in the right direction. When was the last time you spoke to your boss? Have you ever seen any of these men before?

She explained that her boss had called her on Thursday of the previous week and told her not to bother coming in for a while. She decided to take the time to travel. She was going to leave this very morning and then these men showed up at her apartment. At this point she had a melt-down, and it took several minutes and a little Xanax to calm her down. One of the men she recognized. The tall one. She was pretty sure he was a Saudi. Her boss did a lot of work with the Saudis and several of the other Arab countries. She explained that Vienna was home to one of the three United Nations headquarters and also OPEC. Coleman pressed her on the type of work they did. Mostly lobbying, and some risk assessment. Coleman asked her if she knew her boss had worked for the East German secret police. She said she did not, and he believed her.

Meanwhile Rapp was going through the contents of the safe. It took one of Milt’s guys less than two minutes to open it. They’d found some interesting stuff in there, like a copy of
Alice in Wonderland.
A leftover from his old days with the Stasi no doubt. Probably given to him by his KGB supervisor. Rapp opened it to the title page and sure enough it was addressed to Abel. The inscription was in Russian and since Rapp didn’t understand a word of it he handed it off to one of Milt’s people so it could be boxed up and taken back to Langley for deeper analysis. It was an old trick of the KGB to use books as keys to decipher coded messages. There was also a 9mm H&K P2000 with a silencer. Rapp inspected the weapon, turning it over in his hand and checking it from several angles. It was spotless, but not from cleaning. Rapp guessed the weapon had been fired fewer than a hundred times. There were a few disks that were coded. They were sent straight over to Milt so he could begin working on them with Marcus Dumond back at Langley. Other than that, there were a few files, 10,000 euros, and a fake passport and matching credit card. All said, there was nothing that was going to tell them where Abel was right now.

Rapp had attempted, briefly, to interrogate the big guy, but he began screaming like all hell and Rapp had been forced to pistol-whip him across the side of the head to shut him up. The guy was just coming out of it and Rapp was anxious to try again. He wanted to find out just who in the hell he worked for.

Coleman came up and tapped him on the shoulder. “You might want to come talk to her.”

“What’s up?”

“She’s talking about some place that didn’t show up on any of our checks. Some Alpine house. I guess it’s a mountain retreat that her boss uses to get away.”

“Has she ever been there?”

Coleman shook his head. “I guess he’s pretty private about it, but over the years, she’s heard bits and pieces.”

“Does she know where it is?”

“Not specifically, but she says it’s in the Tyrol Region near a city called Bludenz.”

Before Rapp could ask just where in the hell Bludenz was, Milt Johnson’s voice came squawking over the secure digital radio. “Mitch, are you there?”

Rapp had taken out his earpiece. The radio was clipped to his belt. He snatched it and thumbed the talk button. “What do you need, Milt?”

“Did I tell you this guy dropped one hundred and twenty-five grand on a brand-new Mercedes a week ago?”

“No.”

“Well, I think I just found it.”

Rapp stared at the radio for a second and shook his head. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Not yet. You’re supposed to ask me how I found it.”

“Milt, how did you find it?”

“I’m glad you asked me that. These high-end cars all come with GPS. We hacked into the Mercedes database, entered the vehicle number that we got off the registration, and came up with the car’s GPS locater. I kicked it over to the NSA this morning and they just let me know where the car is.”

“Let me guess … it’s parked at the Vienna International Airport.”

“No. It was actually parked in Zurich, but six minutes ago it started moving.”

Rapp paused and looked at the little black radio again. “Where is it headed?”

“South is all they said. Out of the city.”

Rapp didn’t press the transmit button right away. He knew Zurich well and was trying to picture what lay south of the city. The lake was dead south. Everything flowed around it either to the east or west. He hit the button. “Is the car headed southeast or southwest?”

It took a few seconds for Milt to reply. “Southeast.”

Rapp’s mind was racing ahead. Southeast was either the Austrian border or Italy. “Milt, I’m on my way over. Get me a fast helicopter, and find out who we have on the ground in Zurich.”

Rapp clicked off and looked at Coleman. He pointed at the bound Saudi on the floor. “He’s coming with us. Tell them to get that box back up here and get him down in the van ASAP.”

W
ESTERN
A
USTRIA

A
bel was not worried about tracking devices. The car was new, and it had been stored and covered at a local garage while he was gone. There was no way for anyone to know that he had kept the car there. Still, his years of spycraft made him cautious. On the way out of Zurich he got off the autobahn twice and doubled back. When he was absolutely sure no one was following him, he set out for his destination like a rocket. The 493 hp engine propelled the silver Mercedes down the Swiss autobahn at speeds sometimes approaching 150 mph. That was only on the straightaway, though. The police were fine with fast driving, but not reckless. When he made his way into the mountain passes, the winding, climbing, and then falling road caused him to reduce his speed greatly. The trip from Zurich to Bludenz took two hours and forty-seven minutes.

Abel pulled into the quaint town and was immediately hit with a feeling of melancholy. He loved this place and it made him sad that he would be denied its simple pleasures because of some sadistic Saudi and a crazy American. On impulse, he stopped the car in front of the small grocery store. He was hungry and he might as well pick up some of his favorite foods. Abel walked in the front door, and a bell chimed to announce to the owner that a customer had arrived. Abel breathed in the smells. The pastries, the meats, the fresh coffee, this place was heaven.

The butcher was standing at his post behind the meat counter, a fresh white apron tied around his waist. Abel watched him carefully for any type of reaction, any hint that strangers had been in town asking about him. Who knew what the Americans might do? With their new war on, it was very possible they would alert Interpol and the state police in both Switzerland and Austria.

The butcher smiled warmly at him. He looked Abel directly in the eye and although he did not know the customer by name, he told him it was good to see him again. This was all a relief to Abel. He was one step ahead of the people looking for him. He asked for several links of sausage and then picked up some vegetables, a few small wedges of cheese, milk, fresh coffee, a couple of pastries, and a few eggs. By the time he checked out, he was considering spending the night. He knew he shouldn’t, but he also knew this would be the last time he would see his beloved Alpine house for some time.

Abel drove the silver SL 55 AMG Mercedes up the switchback road with the sunroof open and the windows down. It was chilly outside, but he didn’t care. It felt so good to breathe in the clean mountain air. Abel would miss the majestic views and the quaintness of the village. If only there was a way to stay, to simply hide out here in the Alps and hope that no one discovered him. Petrov knew about the place, though, and the Americans would eventually find out that Petrov had been his handler all those years ago when the Iron Curtain still divided Europe.

Abel looked back on it all and wondered where he had made his mistake. Was it when he agreed to take the job from Saeed? Was it when he pushed the assassins and threatened to hunt them down? At the time, it seemed like his only option, but looking back on it now, it had been a foolish and emotionally inspired move. He had no idea who they were, and they knew far too much about him. It was clear now what they had decided. He had threatened them, and rather than hunt him down themselves like the man said he would, they decided to put the CIA and this monster Mitch Rapp onto his trail. It was a brilliant move on their part, and one that Abel should have foreseen. His second mistake was leaving the money in the accounts. He should have moved it. It pained him to no end to think that he had let eleven million dollars slip through his hands.

Abel rounded the last switchback. There was no guardrail, just a tiny stone ledge and then a steep drop over the edge. His place was ahead on the right. The tires left the pavement and moved onto the crushed rock |of his driveway. He skidded to a stop in front of the house and looked around. It appeared at first glance exactly as he had left it. He grabbed the keys and got out, standing there for a moment, looking back up the hill through the thick branches of the pine trees and the golden fall leaves of the aspens. Other than the slight rustle of dry fall leaves there wasn’t a sound.

Abel left the groceries in the backseat and entered the house. He locked the door behind him and went straight downstairs. The house was built into the side of the mountain, so the basement had an earthy, musty smell. A single door with triple windows offered a shaded view of the valley. The deck from above cast a shadow. It was not quite 4:00 in the afternoon. The German went to a door at the back of the basement, opened it, and turned on a light.

A furnace and water heater sat in the far corner. The cement floor was painted a burnt red and was cracked. Skis and poles were hung on a set of pegs. Boots, gloves, goggles, and hats, and a variety of other outdoor accessories were neatly placed on two shelves. A wood pallet with paint cans stacked on top sat in the corner opposite the furnace. Abel grabbed one of the slats and dragged the pallet to the middle of the room. He took a small crowbar hanging on the wall and wedged the straight end into a small crack in the floor. A small section roughly the shape of Australia rose above the rest of the floor. Abel stuck his free hand under the lip and grabbed hold. He tossed the crowbar to the side and slid the section out of the way, revealing a large floor safe. He dialed the combination, jerked the handle clockwise a quarter of a turn and pulled up. He removed one black nylon bag and then a second, a third, and finally a fourth.

Everything was put back just as it had been and then he grabbed the four bags and went back upstairs. When he reached the front entryway he was breathing heavily and for a moment was concerned he’d stirred up some mold in the storage room and was having an asthma attack. He stood up straight, placed his hands over his head, and concentrated on taking deep, full breaths. After a half minute he felt better. It was nothing more than the thin mountain air. Suddenly, he remembered the groceries in the car. He was famished.

Abel threw the dead bolt and yanked open the heavy wood door. He crossed the timber porch and stepped down onto the crushed rock. He glanced to his left and right and then again up the slope of the mountain. It was his favorite place on earth. Maybe he could stay one last night. Cook a nice meal, build a fire, and sip a little cognac. He had a bottle of Louis XIII. It would be a shame to waste it. Abel made a note to clear out the wine cellar. There would be room in the trunk. He would stay the night and say good-bye the proper way.

Abel opened the back passenger door and grabbed the bag of groceries. He put them under his left arm, stepped away and closed the door with his right. As he turned to head back into the house he found himself staring down the length of a thick black silencer at the face of the last man he wanted to see. Abel dropped the bag of groceries, and said, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” Rapp took half a step back and then kicked Abel in the balls, dropping him to the ground.