Vince Flynn - The Third Option

«No, thank you.» Cameron reluctantly sat in one of the two end chairs.

The senator slowly eased into his plush leather desk chair and looked over the top of his mug. He could see it in Cameron's slouched shoulders: things had not gone as planned. «I trust Rapp and his girlfriend have been dealt with?»

«Ah…» Cameron searched for the most delicate way to put it. «Things didn't go so well.»

«Really?»

«Yes. In fact, I fear Rapp may have grabbed the upper hand.»

Clark did not like what he was hearing. Setting his mug down, he said, «Tell me what happened.»

«I left Rapp's house after midnight to head back into the city. I needed to get a few things set up for the rendezvous this morning. When I left, everything was fine.» Cameron desperately wanted to stress this point. «Rielly was convinced that we were legit. Before leaving my place Ito head back out to Rapp's, I called Duser to see how things were going… and…» Cameron started to fidget. «That's when things started to go bad.»

«How so?»

«I'm not exactly sure. While I was talking to Duser, there was a bit of commotion, and then the line went dead.» With a pained look on his face, Cameron said,» And then a few minutes later, I received a phone call from Duser.»

«And?»

«It wasn't Duser. The call was from his phone, but it wasn't him.»

«Who was it?»

«It was… ah… Rapp.»

Clark set his mug down, his mind rapidly filling in the blanks of what must have happened.» And what did he have to say?»

«Same stuff as last time. That he's going to kill me.»

Clark didn't buy Cameron's story. Rapp was too smart for that. He'd want to know who was the real power behind Cameron. But now wasn't the time to push him. «Is Duser dead?»

«I assume he is.»

«Or he's being interrogated.»

Cameron was ready for this one. «There's nothing he can tell them. He doesn't know anything about me.»

Clark wished he shared his minion's confidence, but the fact was he didn't. «What do you propose we do?» The question was asked not out of sincerity but in an effort to make Cameron think his opinion was valued.

«I think it is time to lie low for a while. Let the trail die with Duser.»

«Retreat now so we can fight under more favorable circumstances.»

«Exactly.»

«You don't think there is any way Duser can lead Rapp back to you?»

«No.» Cameron shook his head. «That's assuming he's alive, which I very much doubt. I was very careful in dealing with him.»

«Good.» Again, Clark did not share Cameron's confidence, but he didn't let on. «Are you sure you don't want to take one more shot at Rapp?»

Cameron thought about it for a moment. «I would… I really would, but I think things are a little too hot right now. If we just let him cool down a bit, it will be considerably easier to deal with him.»

«I think you're right, my friend.» Clark thought to himself. It's too bad you won't be around to see it. «How would you like to proceed?»

«I think I should leave the country for a few weeks.»

Clark nodded. «I agree. Do you have any place in mind?»

«A few.»

«How about my island?»

Cameron was hoping the senator would offer his private retreat in the Bahamas, but after the recent debacle he didn't dare ask for it. «The island would be perfect. I could avoid customs.»

«Good. I will leave it up to you to handle the details. You've been very valuable to me, Peter. I can't afford to lose you right now.»

Cameron smiled. He was relieved that Clark had taken the news so well. «You're not going to, sir. I'll personally take care of Rapp when I get back.»

«Good. When will you leave?»

«Later this morning. I have to stop by my office at GW and take care of a couple of things, and then I'm off.»

«You're not going home at all?»

«No. I already have everything I need.»

«Good.» Clark stood and walked Cameron to the door. «Call me when you leave the office and then again when you've made it safely to the island.»

«I will, sir.»

At the door, Clark placed a hand on Cameron's shoulder. «Peter, I want you to be really careful.»

«Thank you, sir. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.»

«I know you can.» The two men exchanged handshakes, and then Cameron was gone. Clark immediately closed the door and went back into his study, where he turned on his computer. After it warmed up, he went on-line and sent a message to the Colonel, giving him very specific instructions on how to proceed. At the end, he decided to throw in one more sentence of incentive. When Clark was done, he sent the message and logged off. With any luck, he would be rid of Cameron before the morning was over.

Donatella Rahn was sitting on the floor of her hotel room in the lotus position. Her breathing was rhythmic and effortless, like gentle waves rolling onto a quiet beach. She had slept well. For years the simple act of sleeping had been her own personal Holy Grail. No matter what she tried, or how hard she tried, the quest remained elusive. It was either the killing or the demons of her drug addictions, or probably both. The faces of her victims haunted her during the lonely dark hours from midnight to sunrise. At first she tried drugs, and with predictable results: she became addicted and strung-out. After a month of treatment at a private facility in the hills north of Milan, she was off the sleeping pills.

After that it was men, but not just any man. With Donatella's beauty, she could afford to be picky. This brought a new set of problems, and she eventually had to abandon that life raft in search of another. From men she moved on to hypnosis, massage therapy, acupuncture, aromatherapy, herbs, almost anything that was suggested to her. None of it worked for longer than a month or two.

After years of struggling, she had finally discovered yoga. That had been six years ago, and ever since then, sleep had ceased to be a worry. She was at peace with herself for maybe the first time in her life. Yoga had taken her to levels of relaxation that she didn't know existed. It had allowed her to stop running from her past and start hoping for the future.

Rahn sat on a towel. She was naked. Her legs crossed, her hands resting gently on her knees, open and facing up. Her posture was straight but not rigid, and her chin was tilted up just slightly. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was even, and her heart was pumping in a slow, restful beat. Donatella imagined herself sitting on the terrace of a beautiful villa overlooking the breathtaking waters of Lake Como. This was often where she went, both in her mind and in reality. The long, smooth water of Lake Como was tucked in the Alps of northern Italy just south of Switzerland. It was, in her mind and the minds of most of her countrymen, one of the most beautiful places in the world. A place of sheer relaxation, where no one was in a rush and wristwatches were frowned on. Rahn had a small place there with a meager fifty feet of lakeshore. For now it was good enough, but she had hopes for an even more serene setting. She was saving, putting away the money so she could buy the place of her dreams. One of the old stone villas with several hundred feet of lakeshore and at least ten wooded acres to waste away the lazy afternoons. It was a dream that would one day come true.

The sun was bathing her smooth, naked body in warmth when her phone started to beep. The beauty of Lake Como vanished as Rahn opened her eyes. Slowly, she unfolded her long legs and stood. Her Motorola StarTAC phone was sitting on the desk. Donatella flipped it open, and the screen told her she had a text message. Rahn pressed the envelope button on the bottom row, and the phone automatically retrieved her e-mail. She concentrated on the tiny letters as the message scrolled across the screen.