Vince Flynn - The Third Option

Jack Warch, the special agent in charge of the president's Secret Service detail, rounded the corner with a file in his hand. «How are you tonight, Anna?»

Rielly brushed a wayward strand of her auburn hair off her face and said, «Not so good, Jack. What are you still doing here?»

«The president is working late tonight.»

Rielly paused and looked down the hall past Warch, in the direction of the Oval Office. There was a good chance f the man behind that door knew where Mitch was. Whether he would admit to that was a whole other matter. After the terrorist attack on the White House had ended, President Hayes had personally pleaded with Rielly to remain silent about the identity of Mitch Rapp. The president didn't want the press, the politicians on the Hill, and the militia nuts to find out that a covert operative for the CIA had been the driving force behind the successful rescue of the hostages. In return for her cooperation, the president had agreed to grant her unusual access. As she and Mitch became close, he had made it very clear that she was never to use her access to the president to dig for information about what he did for the CIA. Considering what she'd gone through over the last two days, breaking that promise seemed minor.

«Who's he with?»

Warch smiled. «You know I can't tell you that.»

There was no smile on Anna's face. «I need to see him.»

The Secret Service agent could tell she was serious and looked back down the hall for a second. Looking back to Rielly, he said, «Stay right here. I'll see what I can do.»

Rielly waited in the foyer and took off her black raincoat. She thought about calling the O'Rourkes. Michael had dropped her off at the White House this morning, and she had promised Liz that she would call when she was done with the nightly news so Michael could come pick her up. She was about to pick up the handset on one of the house phones when Warch came back around the corner.

«Come with me, Anna.» The agent turned around and started back down the hallway, Rielly on his heels.

PRESIDENT HAYES WAS sitting behind his desk in the Oval Office when they entered the room. Jazz music was playing softly nom a stereo that Rielly could not see. The president was sandwiched between two stacks of manila files, busily scanning documents and signing his name. As Warch and Rielly approached the desk, he grabbed a new file, read the note that was paper-clipped to the front, opened the file, and signed his name on four separate pages. The folder was closed and placed on top of the pile on his right. Hayes took off his reading glasses and stood, putting on his suit coat.

Walking around the desk, he said, «Good evening, Anna.» Hayes extended his hand. He really liked Rielly. Like all reporters, she could be tough on him, but she had kept her word when he'd asked for it, and that was not something to be taken lightly, considering her profession.

«Good evening, Mr. President.»

Hayes knew that Rielly had been seeing Rapp. How close they were he didn't know and wasn't about to ask. It had been a very long day, the first lady was out of the country, and he was bushed. He wanted to tune out, not to have to carefully measure every word that left his lips. The president looked at Warch and said, «Thank you, Jack.» When Warch had left the room, Hayes brought Rielly over to the couches and sat next to her. He silently hoped this would be about anything other than Mitch Rapp. «What's on your mind, Anna?»

Rielly stared down at her fingers for a moment. «Sir.» She hesitated not knowing quite where to start. «This is all off the record. Very far off the record. It will never be on any record.»

Hayes grinned. «All right.»

«Where is Mitch, and what kind of trouble is he in?»

The grin on Hayes's face vanished. He began to cautiously consider his reply.» Anna, you already know more than you should. What Mitch does for – «The president paused. He was going to say «the government» but decided that would be too much of an admission. «What Mitch decides to do on his own is something that I am not at liberty to discuss.»

«So you know where he is right now?» Rielly stared at the president with her green eyes, watching every little expression.

Having his law degree and working in Washington for several decades allowed Hayes to focus on the words right now. The president shook his head. «I have no idea where Mitch is.»

«Do you know why he left the country on Thursday?»

Hayes blinked several times and said, «No… I don't.»

Rielly studied him. «Sir, with all due respect, I don't think you are being entirely honest with me.»

«Anna, I don't think we should be talking about this.»

«Sir, I did you and your administration a huge favor by not going public with my story after the hostage crisis was ended.»

«Yes, you did, but this has nothing to do with that.»

Rielly's voice took on a more confrontational tone. «It has everything to do with it.»

Hayes held up his hands. He didn't want this to get heated. «Anna, for your loyalty, you have been given phenomenal access. The fact that you were able to get in here to see me at this hour speaks volumes.»

Rielly cut him off.» And that has been greatly appreciated, sir. But that was the deal you made so I would stay quiet.»

«That's not the only reason you've stayed quiet.»

«What do you mean?»

«Anna, Mitch saved your life. He saved mine. He saved a lot of people's. His wish to keep his life private deserves our respect and continued commitment.»

«I owe Mitch my life. A day doesn’t go by when I don't think about it.» She frowned. «Please don't confuse the issue here. This is not about keeping Mitch's life private. I'm not going to tell anybody about what he does for the CIA. This is about me being worried sick that something has happened to Mitch. It's about me needing to know if he's all right.»

Hayes sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn't believe he was discussing something with a reporter that he wouldn't even discuss with his own national security advisor.

Rielly reached out and touched his arm. «Sir, all I want to know is if he's all right. As far as I'm concerned. we never had this conversation.»

«As far as I know» – Hayes shook his head – «he's fine. But that's all I'm going to say.»

Rielly's face lit up. She reached out and grabbed the president's hand. «Thank you, sir.»

It was dark when American Airlines Flight 602 touched down on the runway at Baltimore Washington International Airport. The flight had just completed its 1,565-mile nonstop journey from San Juan, Puerto Rico. Mitch Rapp looked down at his watch as they taxied to the gate. It was twenty past nine on Monday evening. Once he was out of Germany, the journey back to America had been fairly simple. From Lyon, France, he had taken a Trans North Aviation flight to Fort de France, Martinique, in the Caribbean. The nonstop 4,440-mile flight allowed him to catch a full six hours of sleep as he stretched out in first class.

On the tiny island, which was an overseas department of France, he had checked into a quaint family-run hotel up in the hills overlooking the blue waters of the eastern Caribbean Sea. Rapp paid for both Saturday and Sunday night in cash. Sunday was spent by the pool, relaxing, healing, staring out at the fishing village below, and planning his next step. That evening, he'd allowed himself a cold six-pack while he sat on his balcony and listened to the waves crash in on the rocky shoreline below. He'd allowed his imagination to roam as he thought about what he'd do to the Hoffmans when he got his hands on them.

That night he'd slept for almost eight hours. He awoke with a slight hangover, but after a jog down to the water and a one-mile swim, he felt invigorated and ready to face whatever awaited him back in the States. The two nights and one day spent on tranquil Martinique had brought his mind and body back into focus.