Vince Flynn - American Assassin

Rapp couldn’t help but smile at the thought of doing the same thing to these assholes. This was either going to be the most spectacular success of his life, or the end of it. Fear and debate no longer had a place in his thoughts. There was no turning back. No more hand-wringing. This was all about deception and action. The game had started. He was descending into the belly of the beast. The only question was, would he be able to eat his way out?

THE Aeroflot Tupolev Tu-154 was cleared for landing on Beirut International Airport’s only operating runway. Ivanov’s bullish attitude was back. Primakov was backing him all the way on this little excursion. These Palestinian dogs thought they had everything figured out, but as usual Ivanov was three steps ahead of them. Ivanov blamed himself for just one mistake during this entire mess. Why hadn’t he thought of killing Dorfman first? All of that money could have been his. How could he have missed such an opportunity? Ivanov supposed he had been blind out of necessity. In his world a talented banker who knew how to skirt laws and hide money was absolutely essential. That was another problem he now had to deal with. Where was he going to find another man with those capabilities? He would have to fly to Hamburg soon after he delivered the Americans to Primakov. He would sit down with Dorfman’s boss, Herr Koenig, and make him see that certain reparations were in order.

Shvets had come up with that idea. Get Koenig to authorize a few loans to shell companies that were in Ivanov’s name and were run out of Switzerland. Loans that would never be repaid. Shvets explained that a bank of this size wrote off more than a hundred million dollars a year in bad loans. If handled the right way, he could bleed Herr Koenig out of several million dollars a year. This opened up a whole new avenue of possibilities for Ivanov. He could apply the same principle with a few of the new bankers in Moscow. In only a few years he could have all his money back and then some. That Shvets was a smart boy. Maybe too smart.

Ivanov watched Shvets exit the cockpit and close the door. As his deputy sat in the aisle seat next to him, he noted the way Shvets glanced at his glass of vodka, barely able to hide his contempt.

“We will be on the ground in less than a minute,” Shvets announced while he fastened his seatbelt.

“Good. I am eager to get this over with and get back to Moscow.”

Shvets wondered what kind of man wished to be gone from a place before he’d arrived.

Glancing out the window, Ivanov asked, “Do you think we could persuade Herr Koenig to visit us in Moscow early next week?”

“Doubtful,” Shvets said with a shake of his head.

“Well try, and if he won’t come to us then I will go to him. As always, though, I would like to try to do this the civilized way first. Two businessmen exploring an opportunity.”

“In some countries they call it a shakedown.”

Ivanov drained his glass and gave Shvets an unhappy frown.

Shvets realized the sulking Ivanov was gone and the ruthless one was back. “Sorry.”

Ivanov did not reply at first. He had picked up on the man’s growing insolence over the past year, but it seemed to have grown exponentially over the past week. Maybe it was time to replace him. The question was with whom. The private sector was exploding with opportunity, and the SVR no longer had the pick of the litter. He decided he shouldn’t give up on him so easily. A good lesson or two might restore the proper attitude, and if that didn’t work, he’d think about having him shot. Cutting him free would be foolish. Shvets knew too many of his secrets.

The plane landed on the relatively short runway and braked hard. While they taxied to the designated area, Shvets leaned over and asked, “What is our plan if the bidding goes over five million dollars?”

Ivanov laughed. “It won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I am smarter than these dogs.”

Shvets was intrigued. “What have you been up to, sir?”

“Let’s just say I made a few calls to my friends in Tehran and Baghdad.”

“And?”

“They have agreed that it would be foolish to pay for something that I am willing to give them for free.”

Shvets was dubious. “Are you sure you can trust them?

The plane stopped in front of an old, rusty hangar. The doors were open and light streamed into the interior from the holes in the roof. Sayyed stepped from the shadows and waved at the plane. Ivanov laughed at the sight of him. “There are two things you need to know to understand the Middle East. The first is that they all hate the Jews. The second is that they have nothing but contempt for the Palestinians.”

IT couldn’t have been more than five minutes. The trunk opened and they were on him. Rapp couldn’t tell how many, but it was more than two and fewer than five. The punched, grabbed, and pulled, finally yanking him from the space and throwing him to the floor. Rapp tried to block the blows as best he could, but they were coming from too many directions, and besides, the goal was not to show them how skilled he was at fighting, it was to play possum. To that end, Rapp started screaming and begging them to stop. The ass-kicking did stop, but only because they began stripping him.

When they were done, Rapp lay on the hard, dusty floor, whimpering. As best he could tell, they were in some type of bombed-out building. All of his clothes and possessions were thrown into the trunk of the car that he had just been yanked from. The vehicle started up again, and then the driver floored the gas and sprayed Rapp with loose gravel. The four men who were standing around him all started laughing.

A fifth man walked into the circle. Rapp recognized him as the one who had been leaning against the building. He was a senior member of Fatah. “Why are you doing this? I have been authorized by my government to negotiate with you.”

Radih squatted on his haunches. He held out Rapp’s Beretta. “Why do you need this to negotiate?”

Rapp shrugged. “This is a dangerous town… I don’t know.”

Radih slapped him hard across the face. “I think you are a liar.”

“Sorry.”

“Shut up!”

“But the money…”

Radih slapped him again and Rapp started to whimper.

“I’m just a messenger.”

“And what do you have to offer?”

“Money. Lots of it.”

“How much?”

“A million dollars.”

Radih roared with laughter. “I think it will cost you a lot more than that.”

“Maybe I can get more money?” Rapp said hopefully.

“And maybe we will sell you to the Russians with the others.”

“I can get you the money.”

“I don’t care about the money. And besides, you do not seem like you would fetch a very good price.” The other men nodded and laughed. Radih was suddenly curious about this man. He had to be very low-level. “Why were you chosen to negotiate their release?”

Rapp shrugged and didn’t answer.

Radih slapped him and one of the other men kicked his legs and screamed, “Answer him.”

“I volunteered. Please don’t hit me.”

“And why would anyone volunteer for something like this?”

Rapp spoke softly into the floor.

“Speak up!”

“I said I am related to one of the men.”

“Related? To who?”

“Stan Hurley.”

“We don’t have a hostage named Stan Hurley.”

“Yes, you do. Hurley is his real name. You probably know him as Bill Sherman. That’s why I volunteered. Please don’t hurt me,” Rapp pleaded. “I mean you no harm, I just want to get these men released. I promise we will not bother you again-”