The Last Man (40 page)

Rapp was caught off guard. “Why?”

“He knows something about Obrecht and I think he’s holding back.”

“And you think he’s going to open up to me?” Rapp suddenly looked agitated. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get my team in the air ASAP.”

“Your team is already assembled . . . well, mostly assembled. Scott is handling something for me, but he’ll be there by the time you’re ready to take off.”

Rapp frowned. “You spun up my team without talking to me?”

“I know this is hard for you to grasp at times, but I’m in charge.”

Rapp didn’t want to be in the same room with Gould. “So you’re ordering me to talk to him?”

“That’s right.” Kennedy slid a file across the table. “Read through this quickly and then go down stairs and find out what he knows about Obrecht. There’s also a USB stick in there. It has some surveillance footage Gould took of the area by the veterinary clinic right before the assault. I think you will find it interesting. You and Stan should watch it together.”

Rapp didn’t care about the file or the footage. “How rough can I get?”

Kennedy inhaled sharply and thought about it. “Use your judgment.”

“And if I decide to kill him?”

Rapp’s dark eyes gave Kennedy an unsettling feeling. He was her friend and at times it was easy to forget that at his core he was a killer. She cleared her throat and said, “I don’t want you to kill him.”

“Why?”

“For reasons that I can’t explain right now. You’ll have to trust me.”

“Reasons you won’t explain, you mean.”

“However you’d like to take it, but it is worth reminding you two,” Kennedy said, pointing at Rapp and then Hurley, “that you’re not in charge. I’m calling the shots, and for now I say he lives. Are we clear?”

Rapp wasn’t even sure he wanted to kill the man. His emotions were all over the board when it came to Gould and his wife and child. There’d been only a handful of times where he’d castigated himself for not killing Gould when he had the chance. It was Anna’s memory that had kept him from doing it and he had come to terms with that strange twist of fate. That decision had been made with the naïve assumption that Gould would retire and take care of his family. Learning that the reckless idiot had squandered his chance at a second life had Rapp second-guessing his decision. Kennedy might be his boss, but Gould owed Rapp his life. When the time is right, Rapp thought, I’ll be the one to decide if he lives or dies.

Rapp leaned back and crossed his legs. “For now, I’ll do it your way.”

“Good. Something that’s not in the file . . . I placed Claudia and Anna in protective custody.”

Rapp got that faraway look in his eyes. “Where were they?”

“New Zealand.”

“How’d you find them?”

“She and I have stayed in touch.”

Rapp was surprised and then he realized he shouldn’t have been. Kennedy was thorough. “How old is the girl?”

“Anna is three.”

The fact that the mother had named her after Rapp’s deceased wife had screwed up Rapp’s thinking in ways he could have never predicted. He had spent months tracking Gould and his wife down, with the absolute conviction that when he found them he would kill both of them without hesitation, and then when the moment finally came, and he confronted the mother and the baby girl, it all fell apart. It was as if his wife’s soul had seized him and told him killing them would serve no purpose other than to orphan the baby girl. For a man who had spent more than fifteen years killing people it was the most foreign sensation imaginable.

“Gould had been hiding from Claudia the fact that he was still in the game,” Kennedy said. “He’s trying to act like he doesn’t care, but deep down he’s scared to death that she’s going to leave him once she finds out. It will be your best source of leverage with him.”

Rapp nodded but was thinking of his own ways to exert leverage. A gun to the fool’s head just might be the simplest course of action. The only problem with that tactic, Rapp knew, was that once he got started he might not be able to control himself.

Chapter 49

Aurora Highlands, Virginia

Wilson wasn’t wondering if he was depressed; he knew he was depressed beyond any reasonable doubt. For the first time in his career he actually thought about sticking his service pistol in his mouth and ending his misery. It was a short-lived thought, as Wilson couldn’t bear to think of the mess it would leave behind. And if he somehow screwed it up, which based on his current run of bad luck, he would, there was a better than ever chance that he’d end up crippled in an institution for the rest of his life watching the world go by and not be able to communicate a single thought. No, Wilson decided, if he was going to commit suicide, he would take pills.

Ferris must have sensed his desperation because he had one of his aides call tell him that he’d meet him on their street corner at 10:00 p.m. sharp. Now Wilson found himself in the front hall of his house for the second night in a row, getting ready to do something he didn’t like with a dog he didn’t particularly care for.

He poked his head into the office and said, “I’m going to take Rose out for a walk.”

Sally turned away from the computer screen. “Are you sure? I’d be more than happy to do it.”

Wilson hadn’t told her about his monumentally horseshit day. He couldn’t bear the thought of her judging him. There would be so many questions. She had told him once not long ago that she loved him very much, but that he couldn’t be right all the time. Any conversation about today’s events would eventually lead to that place and she would look right through him and ask how it was that Director Miller, who had a reputation as a fair and honest person, could be so wrong. And then she would dig deeper and he’d have to tell her that not a single person had stood up for him. She would seize on that as proof that the majority had ruled and he was wrong. Wilson could not take having that conversation, not tonight and probably never.

“No,” he told her, “I need to clear my head.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet. You don’t want to talk about the meeting?”

“No . . . I need to sort a few things out.”

“I’m always here if you want to talk.” She stood, walked over, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Joel.”

“Thank you. I’m lucky to have you.”

“Yes, you are.” She brushed his cheek with the back of her hand and then walked him to the door.

Moving down the front walk took great effort. It was if his feet were carrying him to a place he did not want to go. As they turned up the block, a gust of wind hit him the face and Wilson shivered, clutching at his jacket and turning his collar up. He felt cold and vulnerable, and he didn’t like it. Rose led the way and Wilson followed at a sluggish pace. When he reached his corner he didn’t even notice the Lincoln Town Car until the driver flashed his lights. Lewis sighed and braced himself for what he assumed was going to be a lame pep talk from the blowhard senior senator from Connecticut. After opening the rear door, he picked up Rose under her belly and tossed her into the backseat. She and Ferris were welcome to have their little love affair.

Ferris grabbed the dog and pulled her onto his lap. He scratched her neck while saying, “I heard today didn’t go so well.”

Wilson tugged at his jacket. “It was a complete fucking disaster.”

“Must you be so vulgar?”

“You have to be shitting me. You expect me to believe that you don’t swear when you’re angry?”

Ferris shook his head in a slow, disapproving manner. “There was a time, but I’ve learned it does no good.”

“Well, you have a day like I had today and then you can fucking lecture me about swearing.” Wilson looked out the window at the passing brownstones. “Do you know exactly how bad it was?”

“I don’t have any details other than the fact that you’ve been placed on administrative leave.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“It typically means that you continue to get paid while an independent panel decides if you’ve committed enough wrongdoing to be fired.”

“Maybe in your normal government job, but not at the FBI. Administrative leave is a mark so black you can kiss your entire career good-bye.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“It’s the only way to look at it. Three of my direct bosses were in that meeting, and in their eyes I’m done.”

“Well, they’re not the only people who matter in this town.”

Wilson balled his fists in frustration. “You don’t get it. They’ve already determined that this bullshit with the Swiss banker is an attempt by a hostile foreign intelligence agency to destabilize the CIA.”

“I don’t believe that,” Ferris scoffed.

“They sounded pretty convinced, and to really make sure I understood they brought Kennedy into the meeting. Do you know what she did?”

“No.”

“She pulled out a copy of my national security nondisclosure document and threw it in my face. Told me if I so much as talked to anyone about any of this she’d make sure I went to jail.”

“She’s bluffing. They’re all bluffing because they’re scared.”

“And Miller doesn’t get scared. He’s been running the FBI for four years, and he might be a lot of things, but a shrinking violet is not one of them. If he thought this stuff on Rapp and Rickman was legit, he would go after them until they were behind bars. He’s seen something. Somebody showed him something that convinced him all of this information is bullshit.”

“Probably falsified by Kennedy. She’s not afraid to operate that way. How do you think she holds on to power?”

A thought slapped Wilson in the face and he turned to Ferris and asked, “Where did you get your information about Rapp and Rickman?”

“From a very well-placed source.”

“Sure you did. Who’s the source?”

“I don’t like your tone,” Ferris said with a steely stare.

A crazy laugh rumbled up from Wilson’s bowels. “That’s the best you can do? You get me all worked up and I jump on this for you and now my career is in the toilet and the best you can do is tell me you don’t like my tone? Well, fuck you very much, Senator.”

The senator’s face flushed with anger. He was clearly not used to anyone speaking to him in this way, let alone a public servant. “Joe, I can help you, but you need to trust me and you need to keep your calm. Good God, man! I thought you were a professional. This is the first quarter of this little game and you’re acting like it’s over.”

“Well, from where I’m sitting, it pretty much is over.”

“It is not, and get hold of yourself.” Ferris tossed the dog back onto Wilson’s lap. “I have yet to hold a single hearing. When I do, Kennedy is going to have to answer a lot of questions and you will be my star witness. She will regret the day she threw that document in your face.”

Wilson wrestled with the dog. “How can you be so sure?”

“As I’ve told you, I have my sources. You need to trust me.”

Wilson shook his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that. I’m the one drowning here, while you’re sitting on the lido deck sucking down some fruity drink. I need some reassurances. Part of my review is going to be a lot of questions about how I was pointed in this direction . . . questions that will eventually lead to you. At this point, you want me to play ball I need some confidence that I will be proven right.”

Ferris rubbed his index finger along his lips while he thought about it. After a few seconds he said, “I cannot tell you who my source is, but he is a very high-ranking government official of one our staunchest allies. Someone of impeccable character.”

“Will this person testify if called on?”

“God, no. Don’t be a fool. That’s not how this works.”

“So I’m the only person who’s putting his career on the line? This other person gets to make accusations and play it safe?”

“Don’t be naïve. This person would lose everything. He brought the information to me as a favor.”

“That’s not going to do me any good.” Wilson was feeling more and more isolated. Rapp and Rickman and who knew how many other scumbags, and that bitch Kennedy, were all guilty as hell, but Ferris and this mystery informant weren’t exactly exuding courage. “This is bullshit.”

“Joel, I feel bad for you.” Ferris recognized that he was in danger of losing Wilson. The same characteristics that had made him the right man to sic on Langley were now isolating him from Ferris. “But you need to hang in there. Very soon I will be in a position to put a great deal of pressure on Ms. Kennedy. Until then, though, I need you to do something.”

“Why does it always involve me doing something for you? When are you going to do something for me?”

Ferris had had enough. He stared angrily at Wilson and said, “You need to snap out of it, buddy. You’re acting like a baby. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This is Washington. It’s a tough place. What did you expect . . . that people like Kennedy and Rapp would quake at the sight of your badge and roll over?”

“No,” Wilson said defensively.

“Then get your head in the game. I told you, this is early days and you are on the team that is going to win, and when we do, Director Miller and an awful lot of other people are going to have to kiss your ass and apologize.”

Wilson liked the sound of that. “Okay, okay. What is it that you need me to do next?”

“You’ve heard of Darren Sickles?”

“CIA station chief, Kabul . . . I just met him.”

“Well, apparently he’s been recalled and Kennedy and Rapp are making his life miserable.”

“And why should I care?”

“Because, apparently, Mr. Rapp made certain threats against Mr. Sickles’s life.”

Wilson was suspicious. “Where did you hear this?”

“Arianna Vinter from the State Department.”

“I met her as well.”

“Well, you should interview her. She said that Mr. Rapp was extremely threatening.”

A scowl washed over Wilson’s face. “Stuff like that is not easy to prove in court.”

“I’m not talking about court. I’m talking about a public hearing on Capitol Hill, in my committee room with cameras and lots of press. You need to stop thinking like an agent all the time. We need to crucify Rapp in public. Paint a picture of an out-of-control sociopath who threatens, lies, and cheats to get what he wants. Once we do that, your legal case will fall into place.”