Vince Flynn - Consent To Kill

She rubbed his neck. "We are, honey. I just like teasing you. So have you met him yet?"

"Who?"

"Ross."

Rapp was paranoid for a variety of reasons, but he tried to limit it to his professional life. There were times, though, when his very nosy wife liked to blur the line between their personal life and their jobs. He glanced over at his Anna to see if she knew more than she was letting on. "I've met him a few times."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What's your impression of the guy?"

"I don't know." Rapp shrugged unconvincingly.

"Do I sense dissension in the ranks?" Her index finger had found a curl and she began wrapping it around her finger.

"Easy, Lois Lane."

"Do tell," she pressed. "The article makes it sound like everybody likes the guy. Republicans and Democrats alike."

"And you believe everything you read in the paper?"

"Until I have proof otherwise…yes." She turned a little more in her seat so she could face him. "Are you mad because Irene didn't get the new top job?"

"No." He frowned. "I like Irene right where she is. She keeps people off my back and makes sure I get what I need. Besides…it remains to be seen how much of the new job is just window dressing."

Anna raised one of her thin eyebrows. "Is Irene going to be able to keep Ross off your back?"

Rapp glanced over at his wife and smiled. "Not bad for a talking head. I'm very proud of you."

They passed the National Arboretum on their left and entered a rundown part of the city. Anna gave his hair a quick yank. "Why did I ever marry you?"

Rapp kept his eyes fixed on the road. "Because you have serious control issues and you like a challenge. I'm your Mount Everest and you want to summit me." He smiled to himself and looked mischievously at his wife. "I like the sound of that. How would you like to summit me tonight?"

"Not with that line."

"Honey, I think our love is a beautiful thing, and when I express that love I'd appreciate a little reciprocation. You know…I have feelings too."

"You're unbelievable." She laughed. "I have no doubt that I have a few issues, but you saying that I have control issues is like Donald Trump telling someone they have a big ego."

"Darling," Rapp's voice took on a softer, decidedly NPR-esque tone, "remember, any comment that isn't a positive comment is a cry for help." He reached over and patted her knee. "When you're ready to talk, I'm here for you."

Anna had three brothers and she was no wilting flower. She wound up and punched him on the shoulder.

Rapp began laughing uncontrollably. "Spousal abuse…help!"

She hit him twice more in the arm and was about to hit him for a fourth time when she had a flashback to playing slug bug with her brothers when they were kids. She was in her early thirties, for Christ's sake. "Oh…Mitchell, why do I let you get to me?"

Rapp was still laughing. "Because you love me."

"I swear sometimes I think I'm married to a child." She sat back in her seat and folded her arms stubbornly across her chest.

He was still laughing, and reached over to place his right hand on her thigh. "I'm sorry, honey." Even as he said this, though, he was planning to torment her further. He slid his hand down to her knee, where she was deathly ticklish, and clamped down hard enough to send her through the roof.

She slapped his hand twice and then began clawing at his fingers, while alternating between cries of laughter and pain. Her husband finally relented and she sat there in her seat giggling, her shoulder length, auburn hair covering her face. After a good ten seconds she sat up and flung her hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to get you. You know that…don't you?"

Rapp nodded. "I'm sure you will."

Just when he was congratulating himself for getting her off a subject that he didn't want to talk about, she said, "And don't think I don't know what you were doing back there."

"Back where?"

"When you decided you didn't want to talk about your new boss, so you turned everything back onto me. Would you like to tell me why you don't like him, or should I spend the day on the phone asking other people why they think you don't like him?"

"See…there you go again."

They were nearing the White House. "Slow down, and don't change the subject. You know I'll spend the whole day working the phones if you don't answer me honestly."

He knew she was dead serious. "Fine, you big bully. I'm not sure how I feel about the guy. I don't know a lot about him, but I have some reservations."

"Like what?"

"I think he's screwing around with someone I know." Rapp was thinking of Coleman's IRS troubles.

"How so?"

He looked at her. "I'll know more by the end of the day…I hope."

They pulled up to the northwest vehicle checkpoint a block away from the White House. Rapp put the car in park.

She leaned over, her emerald eyes locking onto his dark brown ones. "You'll fill me in tonight."

Rapp pointed to himself. "Right after you summit me."

She tried not to smile, but couldn't help it. "Maybe."

He leaned in and kissed her. "I love you, honey."

"I love you too." Anna got out of the car with her purse and shoulder bag. She walked around the front of the car and gave him a final wave and the million-dollar smile that made her so perfect for TV.

Rapp rolled down his window. "Be safe."

"I will. You too." She waved to the uniformed Secret Service officer behind the greenish bulletproof Plexiglas. She would have to show her credentials at the next checkpoint.

Rapp sat there, one hand on the gearshift, the other on the steering wheel, admiring the view of his wife's slender yet curvaceous figure. She turned around and gave him one more smile. Rapp waved and yanked the gearshift into drive. He pulled away with a smile of absolute contentment on his face. Things just kept getting better between them. They were hitting their stride, and to be honest he'd never been happier.

Abel stepped from the terminal and paused to take in a full breath of the hot dry air. He had mixed feelings about coming back to the Kingdom so soon and hoped the prince would not require more than a few days of his time. He understood, however, that the delicate nature of this business meant talking on the phone, no matter how secure they might think the line, was not wise. As much as he didn't want to leave the Alps, he knew he must.

The fall colors would be blazing near his mountain retreat, and the air would grow crisper with each day. This was the best time of the year to hike. The summer months were still a bit too humid for his asthma, and heavy exercise could be a problem. Now that everything had been set in motion he had a second reason to long for his tiny Alpine village. His survival instincts were kicking in. Sequestered in his mountain retreat he could think clearly and plan for the proper contingencies should things go wrong. So, he would as politely as possible tell Prince Muhammad that he had pressing business to attend to in Zurich, and with any luck, the sociopath would grant him leave.

Prince Muhammad bin Rashid had sent his minions to whisk the German through customs. A white limousine was waiting for him just outside the door with a security detail of two. Another man was placing his carry-on bag in the trunk as if it was a fine piece of art. The fourth and final man was holding the door open for him, gesturing with an upturned palm for him to enter the air-conditioned chamber. For a fleeting moment Abel had the ominous feeling he was being invited to his own funeral. He hesitated briefly and then got in the vehicle.

Why he didn't turn around and take the first plane back to Europe he did not know. It was not because he trusted Prince Muhammad. He did not. It probably had more to do with the difficulties that would have been caused by not getting in the car. It was quite possible he would have been forcibly removed from the airport. And there were also the inherent risks, occupational hazards if you will, that came with the territory. Things he had grown callous to after two decades of deceit, subterfuge, and murder. He doubted Rashid would kill him, but it was not out of the question. In Abel's astute opinion the man was a narcissistic sociopath. He lived literally behind fortress walls, surrounded by bodyguards and the opulent wealth that his billions provided. His contact with the real world was severely limited. The royal family had a schism running through its heart. One side looked to the future while the other clung to the past. It was pitting brother against brother and before it was over there would be a bloodletting.