Vince Flynn - The Third Option

«Oh, I think you do.» Rapp's voice was steady and direct.

«No… I really don't.»

«Come on, Professor. We have mutual friends, or should I say had mutual mends?»

«I don't follow.»

«The Jansens of Evergreen, Colorado, or should I say the Hoffmans of Germany?»

Cameron was shaking. How in the hell had Rapp found him? Grasping for words, he finally managed to say, «I have no idea what you're talking about.»

«Oh, I think you do.»

«Who is this?»

«I told you… I'm an old friend of the Jansens. In fact, I think we almost bumped into each other in the woods once.»

Cameron grabbed his forehead with his free hand and squeezed. How in the hell did Rapp know he'd been in the woods that night? He hadn't even told the Jansens. «Listen, I don't know who you are or what you're talking about.»

«Why don't you drop the act, Professor? We need to negotiate.»

«Negotiate?» asked an incredulous Cameron. «For what?»

«Your life.»

«My life.» Cameron's voice cracked under the strain. «Just what in the hell are you talking about?»

«Cut the bullshit.» Rapp's voice took on a harder edge. «I'm going to call you back in one hour. In the meantime, I suggest you calm down and gather your thoughts. My offer is simple. You tell me what I want to know, specifically who hired you, and I'll let you live. And if you have half a brain, you won't tell your employer about this caII.» Rapp paused, giving Cameron a second to think about things then added, «If you screw with me in the slightest way, I'm going to do to you what you did to the Jansens. Except I'll be much closer than you were. I promise you, the last thing you'll feel before you die is my warm breath on the back of your neck.»

The line went dead. Cameron was left standing in the middle of his office staring at his phone – shaking. «How in the hell did he find me?» Cameron felt the urge to run. He needed to get out of his cramped office. He shoved the phones back in his briefcase and grabbed his laptop. He left everything else where it was and locked the door behind him. He needed to find someplace safe. A place where he could think things through and figure out what he was going to tell Clark.

It had been more than an hour. Eighty-seven minutes, to be exact. Rapp paced in frustration from Dumond's kitchen through the dining room and into the living room. He stepped over a lime-green Nintendo Game Boy that was on the floor in front of the fifty-two-inch TV and looked out the window. Rapp's new companion, Shirley, came up beside him and rubbed her neck against his leg. Rapp scratched the top of her head. Kevin Hackett and Dan Stroble, two of Coleman's men, were supposed to be arriving any minute. They were bringing more firepower in case they needed it. That had been Coleman's idea, and Rapp didn't argue. Rapp felt more than secure with his 9-mm Beretta. Anyone who was foolish enough to try to take them down would lose a lot of men.

Rapp checked his watch. It was twenty past four in the afternoon. The rain had started to fall again in a slow, steady trickle. He had tried the Professor's phone five times, and each time he had received a recorded message telling him the customer was not available. Something was wrong. Coleman had listened to the first call on another extension and had agreed with Rapp. The Professor sounded scared, and he was lying. He knew exactly who Rapp was and what had happened in Germany and Colorado.

Now Rapp feared they may have lost the man. They may have spooked him into disappearing entirely. Rapp worried about how long this would take to tie up. He was going to see it through to the end, no matter how long it took, but if this Professor decided to disappear, it could be years, and it would mean using the Agency's legitimate assets, something Rapp was loath to do.

Coleman approached Rapp at the window and said, «I hope he didn't decide to tell his employer about the call.»

«Yeah, I know.» Rapp watched the drops falling in a puddle that had formed between two heaved sections of sidewalk. «They need to know what we know.»

«How do you mean?»

«If he's with his employer right now, they're trying to figure out just how much we know.»

«Well, based on the conversation you had with him, he I should be able to figure out that you don't know who he's working for.»

«And we have to hope that he doesn't pass that on to his boss, or he's going to end up just like the Jansens.»

«Yeah.» Coleman agreed. «You know, there's something I we haven't discussed enough.»

«What's that?»

«Motive. Who and why? You have a lot of enemies, Mitch.»

«Most of my enemies are the same as yours. They live in the Middle East, and they don't have the type of clout to penetrate that operation I was running in Germany.»

«So who is it?»

«I'm not sure, but I'm leaning toward someone here in D.C.»

«What about the Israelis?»

Rapp shrugged. «I don't know; I don't think so. As I look back on what happened in Germany, I'm starting to think that I wasn't the target.»

«That doesn't make any sense.»

«Think about it. The Jansens had ample opportunity to kill me. Why did they wait and shoot me after I had killed the count?»

«I don't know. Why?»

«Because they wanted me to be fingered for the hit.» Coleman thought it over for a second. «Then why are you ruling Israelis out? They get you to do their dirty work and make sure none of the heat comes down on them.»

«No.» Rapp shook his head. «The Israelis are never afraid to take a little heat. Especially if they can prove the person they killed was in bed with Saddam.»

«Yeah… I suppose you're right.»

«Whoever did it wanted me exposed. They didn't want personal vengeance.»

«How can you be sure? You've been involved in some pretty serious shit over the years. You probably couldn't begin to count the enemies you've made.»

«No, I couldn't, but you're missing the point. Someone had the clout to penetrate that operation in Germany. That is no easy thing. It would take a person in a pretty powerful position to have accessed that information.» Rapp pointed at himself. «If I was the target, why dust me in Germany? Why not have the Jansens kill me here in town, out at my house? Why not have this Professor put a bullet in my head from two hundred meters like he did to the Jansens?»

Coleman slowly nodded. Rapp was right. It didn't make sense. «So, if you we weren't the ultimate target, then who is?»

«I don't know, but if their intent was to have me found at the scene and identified..:.» Rapp paused and thought about the ramifications. «That would have spelled trouble for a lot of people.»

«Namely the president.»

«Yep, and the Agency.»

Coleman thought about it for a moment and added, «That still doesn't rule out foreign involvement.»

«No, it doesn't. But my gut tells me it's someone here in town.» Dumond called from the other room. Rapp and Coleman went back into the dining room and found a grinning Marcus Dumond leaning back in his chair.

«I've got some info on your man.» Dumond pointed to me computer screen in me middle. «His mobile phone account is through Sprint, and it's registered under the name of Tom Jones. It was purchased at a Radio Shack in Alexandria five months ago. It looks like he paid for a full year of service in advance.»

«What did he use?» asked Rapp.

«A Mastercard. I already checked into the credit card account. It was opened and closed a month later. The billing address is for an apartment in Falls Church. We look into it, but my guess is it's a dead end.»

Rapp agreed. «What else do you have?»

«Something you're going to find interesting.» Dumond pointed at the screen to his left. «This is a map of down from the Hill to the Potomac. All of these little red dots you see are towers that Sprint owns and operates.» Dumond scrolled down the screen. «This is a list of all the calls that have been made to this phone in the last thirty days.»