Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

After a few rings a voice answered saying, “Warch here.”

Rapp brought his free hand up to partially cover his mouth. He whispered into the phone, “I have a bomb.”

There was a long pause and then Warch said, “Excuse me?”

Rapp muttered a quick sura in Arabic and then repeated his assertion. “I have a bomb.”

“You have a bomb?” the concerned voice on the phone asked.

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to shove it up your ass.” Rapp started to laugh.

There was a pause and then Warch said, “Is that you, Mitch? You jerk.”

“Come on,” Rapp said while still laughing, “I’m just trying to liven up your day now that you’re full-time management.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I know, and I’m not sorry.”

“Where the hell are you?”

Rapp looked out the window. The Secret Service headquarters was only a few blocks away. “I’m in town.”

“I hear people are looking for you.”

“Yeah…so what’s new?”

“Some people are saying you fucked up, Mitch.”

“Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Is this really the guy?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re a hundred percent sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Is that your gut or your brain talking?”

“Both.”

“My guy who’s working with Justice on this says they don’t share your conviction.”

Rapp smiled. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. “I doubt they would approve of my methods, but let me tell you something, Jack. This guy is absolutely, one hundred percent the guy who detonated the bomb.”

“Evidence?”

“More than enough to send him to the gas chamber.”

“We don’t use those anymore.”

“Well for this guy we should. Maybe you could get them to resurrect Old Sparky?”

“The electric chair…considering the fact that he killed the next president’s wife, I’d say it might actually happen. Are you going to give the Justice Department the evidence, or is this the type of stuff you don’t want dragged into open court?”

“They’ll get it all in a day or two, but don’t tell anyone I told you that. I want them to sweat it a little longer.”

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“You shot the guy four times.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I read the man his rights, handcuffed him, and handed him over to the FBI. The last I saw of the guy he was in perfect physical health.”

“So if he was shot, it was the FBI.”

“Absolutely.”

Warch laughed. “I’ll have to tell the president that. He’ll get a real kick out of it.”

“Listen,” Rapp said getting serious, “I need to talk to one of your people.”

“Who?”

“Agent Rivera.”

Warch was quiet for a moment. “Why?”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’m not going to get her in trouble. I just have a few questions about how things went down back in October.”

“I’m not sure how talkative she’s going to be.”

“Why?”

“The preliminary internal report was released to the top brass yesterday.”

“And?”

“She got pretty beat-up.”

“Don’t tell me you fuckers blamed the whole thing on her.”

“I had nothing to do with it, but you know how it works. We’re like the Navy…something goes wrong on your command and it doesn’t matter if it was your fault or not. You go down with the ship either way.”

Rapp was tempted to argue with him about their tactics, but he hadn’t seen the report and it wasn’t why he called. “Do you have a number where I can reach her?”

“Yeah…hold on a minute.”

“So is she going to lose her job?”

“I don’t think they’ll fire her. They’ll stick her in a boring job pending the completion of the official investigation and then they’ll stick her in an even more boring job.” Warch found the number and gave it to Rapp.

“When is she usually in?”

“Nine. She works out at some karate studio over on thirteenth and L.I guess she’s a real badass.”

“Yeah, right?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Mitch, I’m not kidding. There isn’t a guy at the Service who will spar with her. That’s why she goes over to this other place. Word is she’s been taking her frustration out on them.”

“Thirteenth and L.”

“Yep.”

“Thanks.” Rapp put the white lid on his coffee cup. “Do me a favor.”

“We never talked.”

“You got it.” Rapp smiled. Warch was a solid guy.

“Mitch, one other thing…Thanks.”

“For?”

“Catching this guy. The Service really appreciates it, and I mean that. You ever need anything…all you have to do is ask.”

“Jack, it was my pleasure.” Rapp pressed the end button and considered calling Rivera on her mobile. He decided against it and pulled the battery and SIM card out of the phone. He took his first sip of the hot coffee and then headed out the door. He figured it would take him about five minutes to walk to the studio. It was better to surprise her and get an honest, unprepared reaction.

Rapp knew enough to finish his coffee before entering the dojo. It would be a sign of disrespect to bring any food or beverage inside. The karate training hall fronted 13th Street. In the typical American fashion, pedestrians could stand on the sidewalk and watch the class. The place had two large picture windows with a door to the left. The reasons for the windows were twofold. First, it helped demystify the martial art to the average person, which would encourage more walk-ins, and secondly it provided an additional distraction that the students needed to get used to. Rapp stood at the window for several minutes watching the sensei run the class through their routines. They were currently sparring. Eight students paired up, practicing their sanbon kumite, or three-step moves. Their sensei walked between them either complimenting or correcting. Everything was done low key. No yelling or badgering.

Rapp picked Rivera out right away. It was hard to miss her black ponytail flying around as she twirled and kicked. Just as Warch had told him, she was a black belt. The man she was sparring with looked to be a few inches taller and a good forty pounds heavier. He was the only other black belt in the class, and she was kicking the shit out of him. Rapp took his last few sips of coffee and smiled as she delivered a blistering combination that left her opponent dazed and on his back. The sensei stepped in, giving Rivera a disapproving look. Rapp was surprised to see Rivera begin talking back to her sensei, a move that was frowned upon. The instructor’s face flushed, and then in a further sign of disrespect Rivera turned her back on the man.

Rapp had been in a fair number of street fights as a kid, but it wasn’t until he went to work for the CIA that he really learned how to fight. They’d started him out with karate and then judo. He had little difficulty learning both, and while the fundamentals were sound and the discipline was needed, he instinctively knew that in the real world, fighting was far more frantic. Judo and karate had too many rules. Too many constraints. It was on a trip to Fort Bragg for some additional training that he sat in on a jujitsu class. From the first minutes he knew this was a form that was more suited for real world combat. While karate used mostly feet and hand strikes, and judo used mostly holds and throws, jujitsu combined both and then added knees, elbows, head butts, choke holds, submission holds, and even a few more. Rapp began training in earnest, eventually spending several months in Brazil learning Gracie Jujitsu from the grand master himself, Helio Gracie. Over the years he added some Thai boxing to his regimen, but for the most part he focused on Gracie Jujitsu, eventually earning a third-degree black belt.