Kill Shot (41 page)

“Head into the living room and take a left,” Rapp said. “Go to the window, put the phone on speaker, and tell me what you see.”

A few seconds passed and Kennedy said, “You know what I see.”

Rapp moved quickly down the hallway. “You’re both standing where I was standing last night.” Rapp reached the door and moved past to check the front stairwell. It was clear. “I didn’t trust Stan, so I found someone who fit my general description and I sent him to the apartment to retrieve something . . . I wanted to see how rough Stan would be with him. I watched that asshole Victor leave the van and hide on the right side of the stoop, and when a completely innocent man left the apartment he came up behind him and shot him in the back of the head. He thought he was killing me.” Rapp slowly turned the knob and slid through Bob and Tibby McMahon’s apartment door without making a noise. He silently closed and locked the door. He moved quietly down the hall with his silenced gun ready, and turned the corner. Kennedy and Stansfield were standing exactly where he’d expected them to be. Rapp pressed the End button on the cell phone, slid it into his pocket, and said, “What I want to know is, who gave him the kill order?”

Kennedy jumped and dropped her phone. Stansfield, always the cool customer, didn’t so much as flinch. They both turned to face the killer they’d helped create. Stansfield looked at the gun in Rapp’s hand and said, “I don’t suppose I can talk you into lowering that thing?”

“Not until you’ve done some explaining.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Who authorized the kill?” Rapp asked.

“Neither of us did, and I don’t think Stan did.”

“So you expect me to believe Victor acted on his own.”

“That’s a possibility, but we have also recently discovered that someone has either been leaking or providing information to the DGSE.”

“What kind of information?” Rapp asked.

“The target list. Who we were going to go after and in what order.”

Rapp considered that for a moment. “So they knew Tarek was next on my list?”

“Possibly.”

“That would explain a lot.”

Stansfield could have provided much more information, but Rapp needed to answer a few questions first. “Victor claims you ambushed him and his men last night. Killed McGuirk and Borneman, and he barely escaped with his life. He said he didn’t know anything about the DGSE agents. That you must have shot them after he fled.”

Rapp shook his head. “Victor’s not very smart. He’s ballsy, he’s reckless, but he’s not very smart.”

“How so?” Kennedy asked.

Rapp stepped forward. “Turn around.” Rapp stood behind them. Down on the opposite sidewalk the crime scene markings were still fresh. “Across the street, down the block about two hundred feet, by that red BMW. That’s where the van was parked last night. If I were to ambush them, wouldn’t it have been down there?”

“Not if you used a decoy like Victor says.” Stansfield pointed at the front stoop. “You got them to leave their position and then jumped them.”

Rapp shook his head. “Victor got out of the van on his own. Ran down the sidewalk and took up position right down there.” Rapp pointed out the location with the tip of his silencer. “Luke came out of the building, went down the steps, took a right turn, and Victor fell in behind him. The gun came up about a foot from Luke’s head, and Victor pulled the trigger. Luke went down immediately and Victor looked like he might start dancing. Then the van pulled up about five seconds later. One of Stan’s SF guys got out . . . I can’t remember his name, but he looked like he was arguing with Victor for a second, and then he grabbed Luke’s legs while Victor picked the body up by the neck of the jacket. Victor swung the torso into the open door and then stepped back while the other guy wrestled with the legs. Victor placed the gun against the back of his head and pulled the trigger.”

“You were still standing up here?” Kennedy asked.

“Yep, and then I saw another muzzle flash. I assume Victor shot the other guy they were with. He thought he had gotten away with it. He thought I was dead and he could blame me for killing the other two guys.”

“And why would he want to do that?” Stansfield asked, already knowing the motive.

“I don’t know. Because you ordered him to do it or Stan did.”

“What if he did it because he was not authorized to kill you? He needed to make it look like you were out of control. You had killed McGuirk and Borneman, that way he was justified in killing you.”

“Or Stan had ordered all of it.”

Stansfield felt as if he was finally getting a handle on this. “What happened after that?”

“Two guys showed up right over there. They had guns out. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like they were shouting for Victor to drop his gun. Victor started to raise his hand and then turned and shot both men. One of them got a shot off, but missed. Both of them were down, and then I saw Victor start walking toward them. That was when I ran downstairs.”

“And did what?” Kennedy asked.

“I didn’t know who these two guys were yet, but I figured they were law enforcement. We have some pretty strict rules about shooting those guys, so I was going to stop him. I came through the front door and I saw Victor lining up to finish them off and I started shooting. I stayed on this side of the street and moved to the right so I could try to get him to break off and head back to the van. I found a spot under a car over here and that was when I shot him in the calf. After that I crossed the street, laid down some suppressive fire, and then when I jumped out Victor was running back toward the van. I fired some shots at him but he was able to jump in the open side door. I gave pursuit and then he opened fire with a rather loud submachine gun.”

“And then drove off,” Stansfield said. “What happened next?” Stansfield was hoping that he was going to hear what he thought he already knew.

“I went back and checked on the two guys. It turns out they were DGSE. One of them was shot in the face and dead, but the other guy was alive and in trouble, so I got my med kit out and patched him up as best I could and then I cleared the area.”

In Stansfield’s mind the scales had just tipped in Rapp’s favor. He breathed an inward sigh of relief and was about to ask a question, but Kennedy beat him to it.

“You said Victor was stupid. How so?”

“I think the man is stupid in general. But it’s worse than that. He’s dangerous. I think the guy is nuts, and what I can’t believe is that you didn’t wash him out a long time ago. I’m a step above a rookie, and I could see he was a train wreck from a mile away. How in hell did you miss it?”

“That’s a conversation for another day,” Kennedy said. “What was your point about him being stupid?”

“You guys will have no problem getting your hands on the police report. The ballistics will back up everything I just said. Victor uses a .45 caliber, I use a 9 millimeter, and the Directorate guys were carrying FNP .357 Sigs. His story won’t hold up. They recovered the body of one of our guys, and you’re going to find out he was shot with a .45 at near point-blank range. You’re also going to find out that both of the DGSE agents were shot with a .45 . . . Victor’s .45. And if you bother asking whoever patched Victor up, they’re going to tell you Victor was shot by a 9 millimeter. My 9 millimeter. He thought I was dead, and he made a huge mistake.”

It certainly did seem that way. Stansfield considered all of this. Rapp was right, they could get their hands on the police report and the information would back up one version or the other, but that might take a few days, and Stansfield wanted to put this thing to rest sooner than that. “You said you had a witness. Someone we could trust. Are we going to get a chance to talk to this person?”

“Nobody followed you guys?”

“No,” Stansfield answered.

“You’re not carrying any beacons or transmitters?” Rapp asked the question only halfheartedly. He didn’t have the skill or the technology to check their answer. He nudged past Kennedy and looked up and down the street one last time to make sure there weren’t any goons lurking about. There were none. He moved away from the window toward the middle of the apartment and called out. “It’s clear. You can come out now.” Rapp watched the door to one of the bedrooms open. Greta stepped into the hallway and Rapp turned to see the expression on Stansfield’s face. It appeared to be a mix of relief and shock.

“Greta,” Stansfield said in sheer disbelief. His mouth asked, “How in the world did you get involved in this?” while his brain was wondering how he would explain this to his dear friend Herr Ohlmeyer.

“Hello, Thomas,” Greta said, stopping at Rapp’s side. “Everything he said is true. I stood at that very window last night and watched this Victor man who works for you gun down five people. He is an animal. A sick dog.”

Kennedy was completely thrown. She was supposed to know every detail of Rapp’s life, yet she hadn’t the foggiest idea who this pretty blonde was. Turning to Stansfield, she asked, “Who is this woman?”

“She is my good friend Herr Carl Ohlmeyer’s granddaughter.” Stansfield turned his eyes back to Rapp and Greta. It was not lost on him that Greta had reached out and was holding Rapp’s arm. They were a couple. More than that, they were in love. One of his best friends, one of the most powerful, civilized men he knew, was going to have to be told that his precious granddaughter was dating one of the most dangerous men on the planet. A man Stansfield had helped create. A man Stansfield had brought into the Ohlmeyer home. The news was not going to be well received.

T
HEY
rode back to the Embassy in the black Mercedes sedan that Kennedy had been driving. There was a brief, heated exchange over who would drive, but Rapp had won out when Stansfield intervened. He was trained to drive very aggressively if need be. Rapp wasn’t crazy about taking Greta back to the Embassy, but Stansfield would have it no other way. The man was unusually shaken by the revelation of their relationship. Rapp and Greta had both argued that Greta could easily drive back to Switzerland and no one would be the wiser.

Stansfield was vehement. “I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do to your grandfather. He is not going to be happy. He would never forgive me if something happened to you, and I would never forgive myself. The safest place for you is at the Embassy. When things have settled down I will take you back to Zurich personally.”

They stopped at Greta’s car, grabbed their bags, and were on their way. A few minutes out from the Embassy Kennedy called the watch desk, gave them their ETA, and told them to have the gate open. Paris wasn’t Moscow, but considering how often Paul Fournier’s name had been popping up, it was worth taking a few extra precautions. They rolled through the big gate without incident and proceeded into the Embassy’s underground parking garage.

After Rapp and Greta had grabbed their bags from the trunk, Stansfield said, “Irene, would you please take Greta to see Gene? Tell him I said to make her comfortable. She might be staying the night.” Gene was the CIA station chief.

As they entered the small underground lobby off the parking garage, Greta stopped and asked Mitch, “When am I going to see you again?”

Rapp glanced at Stansfield and said, “We have some work to do. I’m sure I’ll see you tonight if not sooner.”

Greta got on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful.” And then, turning to Stansfield, she said, “If anything happens to him, I am going to be very upset.”

Stansfield gave her a disinterested nod. “Mr. Rapp is quite capable of taking care of himself.”

The men watched as the ladies entered the elevator. Kennedy had Rapp’s bag. When the doors closed Stansfield said, “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Downstairs.” When they were both in the stairwell, Stansfield asked, “How long have you been seeing her?”

Rapp followed two steps behind. “Almost a year.”

“Do you love her?”

“That’s kind of personal, boss.”

Stansfield stopped in the middle of the next landing and turned to face Rapp. “There are literally billions of women on the planet, and you chose to fall in love with her.”

“I never said I was in love with her.”

“Well, she’s most certainly in love with you. That much is obvious.”

“Sir, I’d like to keep my personal life personal.”

“If only it were that easy,” Stansfield grumbled, and started down the next flight. “You have no idea the problems you have caused me.”

Rapp followed in silence, not wishing to explore his personal life any further. The stairs emptied into a small vestibule with a single elevator and a secure door. Stansfield pressed a button next to the door and turned his head toward the camera. There was an electronic buzz and Stansfield grabbed the door and opened it. A long hallway was in front of them. Stansfield went straight for the second door on the right. Three men were inside. Two of them were Dr. Lewis and Rob Ridley whom Rapp knew fairly well. The third one he’d never met before.

Stansfield asked, “How is it going?”

The man whom Rapp didn’t know looked up from his equipment and said, “Much better. Stan’s got him on the ropes. Victor’s starting to slip up a bit, but he’s sticking to his story.”

“How are the readouts?” Stansfield asked, pointing at the polygraph machine.

“He’s keeping his responses within the parameters, but my personal BS detector says he’s lying through his teeth.”

Rapp looked through the big viewing window and saw Victor and Hurley. His entire body tightened into a knot of energy. The first thought to cross his mind was how much he wanted to kill Victor. The second was that he wouldn’t mind taking Hurley out at the same time.

They were both smoking. Victor was in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. The cotton fabric was stretched tightly over his massive arms. Leaning back in the chair, he was trying to look as casual as possible.

“I know we have to play this game, Stan. I can tell you don’t like it any more than I do. We both know Rapp is a piece of shit. Let’s get this over with so we can go hunt him down and put the bastard out of his misery.”