Vince Flynn - The Third Option

When the door started to open, Rapp forced himself to wait for another second. He watched the man poke his head outside and look around the backyard. It appeared he was less concerned with Shirley than with who her owner might be. Rapp was tempted to move but told himself to wait just a second longer. Finally, when the man stepped onto the patio, Rapp moved casually from behind the shed. He didn't walk directly at the house. He walked parallel to it and yelled, «Here, Nimitz! Here, Nimitz!» Rapp intentionally used the name of the dog he'd had as a boy, hoping that Shirley would stay where she was. He continued walking casually along the back edge of Stansfield's yard with Shirley's leash in his right hand.

«Is this your dog, Mister?»

Rapp stopped and turned toward the house. «Oh, I'm sorry. Is that you up there, Nimitz?» He started walking toward the house. «Leave that man alone, and get over here,» he added in a lighthearted voice. «I'm sorry about this. She's usually pretty good.» He continued to close in on the man, hoping that Shirley would stay right where she was. The dog finally looked up, and the bodyguard appeared as if he was about to retreat, so Rapp blurted out, «Hi, my name is Dave. My wife and I just moved in over on Linganore Court.» Smiling, he stuck out his hand and said, «She must have smelled food. I apologize.» The bodyguard was standing with his right side turned away from Rapp, and his hand was hanging loosely at his side instead of up at his hip where it should be. Hell, Rapp thought to himself, he shouldn't be out here. The guy looked very young. Rapp guessed he was still in his twenties.

Then the guard actually extended his hand. «Hi, I'm Trevor.»

Rapp smiled and took it, thinking to himself, You stupid son of a bitch. «Nice to meet you.» Rapp pumped the bodyguard's hand and pointed to Shirley with his free hand. As soon as Trevor looked at the dog, Rapp unleashed a vicious left hook that caught the bodyguard square on the jaw. The man's knees crumpled, and he began to sink. Rapp caught him before he could hit the ground and carried him straight back into the house, where he deposited him on the floor of the mud room. Moving quickly, he closed the door, leaving Shirley outside, and pulled out a pair of plastic flex cuffs. He bound the man's wrists behind his back and checked his body for any backup weapons. There were none. Rapp took the man's gun from his holster and stuck it in his coat pocket, just as he began to show signs of corning to. Rapp quickly undid the bodyguard's pants and started to stand him up. The dress slacks fell to Trevor's knees. With his Beretta drawn, Rapp grabbed the bodyguard by the hair and began pushing him down the hall toward Stansfield's study.

Rapp's right hand had a firm grip of the hair on the back of the bodyguard's head, and his silenced pistol was pressed into the center of his back. The man shuffled as Rapp pushed him forward, his pants now down around his knees. They were at the study door in seconds. Rapp didn't know if it was locked, so he knocked just in case and heard Stansfield say «Enter» a moment later. He kept the gun pressed against the bodyguard's back and let go of his hair. Reaching around his prisoner, Rapp turned the knob and thrust the door open. Taking half a step back, he placed his boot on the man's butt and pushed. The man tumbled into the room, falling to the floor with his pants around his ankles.

Rapp followed right behind him, searching for Coleman with his gun leveled. Stansfield and Kennedy weren't a threat. He found Coleman sitting on the couch next to Kennedy. Rapp shut the door with his free hand. Coleman started to move, but Rapp was quicker. He fired one shot as he crossed the room. Coleman stopped, frozen in complete shock, his eyes fixed on the bullet hole in the cushion of the couch he was sitting on.

In a flat voice, Rapp said, «The next one goes in your knee cap. Sit on your hands, Scott, and don't move.»

Coleman looked back down at the bullet hole. It was less than two inches from his groin. As calmly as possible, he slid his hands under his butt and nodded to Rapp, letting him know that he had the upper hand.

Riellys spirits were soaring. Just hearing Mitch's voice, knowing that he was alive, seemed to make all of the pain and worry vanish. He would be safe now that he was back in America. And she didn't doubt for a second that this would be it. Mitch wanted to put it all behind him every bit as much as she did. She still wished she could see him, but when she stepped back and really looked at it, she could understand what must be happening. He was probably going through some type of a post-mission briefing. She was, after all, a reporter, and she doubted that Mitch's handlers at Langley looked very favorably on their relationship.

Rielly was covering the tripod and some other equipment with a tarp while Pete, squatting on one knee, packed up the camera. Looking up, he said, «What's got you in such a good mood all of a sudden?»

Rielly smiled. «I got some good news before we went on the air.»

«You didn't act like it when you were on the phone. You seemed pretty upset.»

«I was kind of caught off-guard.»

«Was it Mitch?»

«Yes.»

«So everything is okay between you two?»

Rielly hesitated. «Things were never bad between us. We just had a little problem over the weekend.»

«Great,» replied Pete with sarcasm. «You guys had a little problem, I make a little comment at lunch, and then you make me feel bad about myself for the rest of the day.»

Rielly smiled. «I'm sorry, Pete, it was just bad timing. I was a little sensitive today.»

«That's fine,» he continued in his sarcastic tone. «I'm a big target. I can take it. Whatever you need to do to make yourself feel better… go right ahead.»

Rielly laughed. «I see the little baby has his sense of humor back.» She punched him in the arm. «You are so full of it.»

Pete stood up with a weepy expression on his face. «You know, I have feelings, too.»

«Yeah, I know you do, big shooter. I'll make it up to you and buy you a beer.»

«Really?» The pained look vanished.

«Yeah, but not tonight, maybe tomorrow;» Rielly wanted to get home and give Liz the update.

«If you really cared, you'd take me out right now; I'm feeling very vulnerable tonight.»

Rielly just shook her head. «Oh, please. I'll see you tomorrow;» She turned and walked away toward the northwest gate. On her way, she called Liz. After four rings, her friend answered.

«Liz, I'm leaving work. I'm going to grab a cab.»

«No you're not! Michael's right here. I'm kicking him out the door as we speak. He'll be there in five minutes.»

«No. I'm fine. Don't worry, I can catch a cab.»

«Anna, don't argue with me. Michael is on his way.»

«Liz, everything is fine. I talked to Mitch. I'll tell you about it when I get there.» Her friend tried to protest again, but Rielly cut her off. «Don't bother sending Michael. I'll be there in less than ten minutes.»

Rielly hung up the phone without giving Liz a chance to argue further. She passed through the gate, waving good night to the uniformed Secret Service officers behind the bulletproof windows. Walking west down Pennsylvania, she lifted her face to the sky and grinned with relief. The night's fall air felt crisp and clean. One block over, in front of the Renwick Gallery on the comer of 17th, she caught a cab and told the driver the address in Georgetown. The cab pulled out into traffic, and Rielly sank down in the back seat. Her energy was gone-her mind was set on a big glass of merlot and a good night's sleep.

A DARK BLUE Crown Victoria was parked on 17th Street facing south. It had U.S. government plates and two antennas affixed to the back window. Dave Polk sat behind the wheel and watched the cab pull away with his surveillance target in the back seat. Polk started the car and pulled out into traffic. In the trunk of the car was a suitcase. It looked ordinary, but inside was a sophisticated piece of equipment designed to intercept analog and digital phone calls. It was made in Taiwan and was most effective at picking up analog calls, but if the user were in possession of the specific digital number they were monitoring, it was no problem. Two cables ran out the back of the suitcase. One was attached to the antenna on the back window, and the oilier one was strung under the back seat, under the carpeting, and came up between the front seats. It was attached to a small earpiece that Polk was wearing.