Vince Flynn - Consent To Kill

While online Claudia took care of some banking and checked their various e-mail accounts. There were really only two messages of any concern. The first was an offer for a job. She was tempted to reply that they were getting out of the business, but Claudia realized that might attract undue attention. People would wonder why they had so suddenly decided to drop out. When the news broke of the great Mitch Rapp's death, people would begin to speculate. It was better to tell former clients that they were too busy to accept new contracts at the moment. The second e-mail of consequence was from the German. Abel was offering them an additional million dollars if they could fulfill the contract in such a way as to make it look natural. Like it was an accident. He didn't want this to compromise the job, however. The priority was to make sure they succeeded on the first order of business. If a readily available solution presented itself, however, it would be preferred. It did not have to be overly convincing. Just leave the door open for interpretation.

Claudia had stared at the message for a long time. She wasn't sure she should show it to Louie, but in the end she did. When he got back she let him read the e-mail and then she asked him what he thought. Louie simply said, "We'll see." Later he surprised her by saying that he was already considering doing just what the German had suggested. He reasoned that the CIA would make it a top priority to catch the people responsible for Rapp's murder. If they could make it look like an accident, they could retire without having to look over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. The idea sounded great, but implementing it would be difficult. Gone were the days of running people off the road at night, or hitting them in a head-on collision. They were in America, where airbags were common. Gould told her to remain flexible. If an opportunity presented itself they would discuss it. Otherwise, he would take him out at a safe distance with the silenced rifle.

They ordered room service at 5:00. It arrived at 5:34. Louie devoured a California burger with french fries. Claudia ate a light salad and bread. She felt good but didn't want to push it. She drank water and he drank water and coffee. He was worried about her but didn't say anything. He hoped this morning sickness thing was a onetime occurrence, but he doubted it. At 6:00 they watched the local news and sanitized the room, wiping down common surfaces where they may have left prints. They had absolutely no reason to think they were being followed, or that they would be discovered once the job was complete, but that didn't matter. They were professionals, and professionals were thorough. The room service cart was pushed out into the hallway and Claudia called for it to be picked up. At 6:30 they sat on the edge of the bed and watched the start of the NBC Nightly News.

Rapp's wife came on in the first five minutes. She was standing in the same spot she had been in the morning and wearing the same outfit. She spoke for maybe ten seconds and then they rolled some footage. When the footage was done, the anchor asked her a question, she answered it, and they went to a commercial. Gould stood and turned off the TV. They each grabbed a bag. All of the other stuff was already loaded in the new rental car. They were paid for one more night and depending on how things went they might need to come back here and sleep.

It took six minutes to leave the hotel and reach the car. By the time they pulled out of the ramp Claudia had the GPS device hooked up to her laptop. She waited a few seconds for the software to load and give her an overlay of the streets. Right now it was set for a two-square-mile overview, but she could narrow it down to a block-by-block look or bring it all the way back to an overview of North America. They had no idea where Rapp and his wife lived. The credit report listed a P.O. box in DC, and Rielly's last known address was an apartment in Georgetown.

Gould drove the Explorer over to 19th and H and waited. The parking ramp where he'd found her car was two blocks away. They didn't have to wait long. Claudia announced that the target was moving. Louie waited patiently while she relayed the direction the BMW was headed. Louie didn't need to look at the map on the computer screen. He had the map of downtown memorized. H was a one-way street heading east.

"The car is heading north on Seventeenth Street." Claudia stared intently at the screen. "She crossed H…no, forget that. She just turned east on H."

Louie pulled the gear lever out of park and took his foot off the brake. He hit the turn signal and eased out into traffic. They continued east on H until they hit New York Avenue. They missed the light and had to wait almost a minute. Claudia gave him constant updates. The car was on New York Avenue heading northeast. Louie was nowhere near panicking, but he did want to at least get a visual to make sure it was Rapp's wife who was in the car. Due to the lights, she maintained a one-mile lead until they were out of the District. Then New York Avenue opened up to a three-lane highway. Gould stepped on the gas and started passing cars. Nothing too crazy, but he was steadily gaining. At some point the road changed from New York Avenue to John Hansen Highway and U.S. Route 50. By the time they reached the Beltway they had a visual on the car. In the failing light they could barely make it out a hundred yards ahead. They passed under Interstate 495 and Gould closed the distance. At Lottsford Vista Road he eased up beside her. It was now past seven and the traffic was moderate. Both he and Claudia agreed it was her. She was talking on her cell phone so her face was partially obscured, but she gave them a glance like she was thinking about changing lanes.

Gould eased off the gas and fell back several cars. He retrieved an earpiece from his pocket and stuck it in his right ear. It was plugged into a small receiver that was tuned to the frequency of the miniature listening device he'd placed under the dashboard of the BMW. A voice came over the small speaker. There was a fair amount of background noise, but even so it was unmistakably her voice. Gould listened to the one-sided conversation with a critical ear, hoping to gain any information that might involve their schedule. They continued on U.S. Route 50 for another five minutes, then took U.S. Route 301 south for approximately six minutes and then started turning down a series of county roads. They were a decent ways from the city. Gould did not know what to think. Did they live way out here? Was she going to visit someone? Was she working on a story?

"How far are we from the Chesapeake Bay?" Gould asked.

Claudia pecked a few keys on the computer. "About four miles."

Gould nodded and watched his distance. He did not want her to notice she was being followed, but it was getting harder. Sooner rather than later they were going to run out of land. He was right. They ran out of land. Claudia told Gould that the car had just turned onto a dead end road. He pulled over and watched on the computer screen as the BMW inched closer and closer to the Chesapeake Bay. It finally stopped as if it had pulled right up to the water's edge. They waited several minutes to make sure the car didn't start moving again and then Gould continued on. He turned down the dead end road and set his speed five miles an hour above the posted speed. On the right were farm fields and woods and a few scattered houses. On the left were houses every couple of hundred feet. In the failing light he could glimpse the water of the big bay as they passed between houses.

"We're close," Claudia announced. "Less than a hundred meters."

Gould was already scanning ahead, looking for the car.

"Fifty meters."

He approached a white house and saw the car. There was a second car parked next to it. Gould tensed ever so slightly. "I see it."