Vince Flynn - Consent To Kill

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Ross asked in a far more subdued tone than he would have five minutes ago.

"He literally wasn't there," Kennedy answered. "We assumed the worst at first…that he was captured and taken away, or killed and taken away, but then we ran the security tapes." Kennedy stopped, and it was obvious by the expression on her face that there was more to the story.

"And?" Ross asked, his curiosity fully piqued.

"The house was hit with a total of seven RPG rounds and over a thousand bullets. In addition to the four CIA employees killed, there were thirteen other bodies discovered."

"Thirteen?" Ross was shocked by the number.

"They were the men who we think were hired to attack the facility. They used three black Chevy Suburbans equipped with emergency lights." Kennedy turned to the president. "Like the kind the Secret Service uses to get through traffic. They tore down the main gate, and then drove up to the house with their emergency lights flashing. They were wearing blue coveralls with FBI baseball caps. My bodyguards didn't even draw their weapons. I think they thought it was the FBI showing up to place Mitch under protective custody."

"Back up a minute," said Ross, "or move forward. You said the four guards were killed. There were other guards, right?"

"No."

"Then what happened to these thirteen guys?"

The president looked at Kennedy and said, "Mitch was what happened to them."

Kennedy nodded. "Each man was killed with a single nine-millimeter shot to the head." Kennedy frowned and added, "Here is where it gets interesting. There was a fourteenth individual. The tapes show Mitch putting him in the back of one of the Suburbans and leaving."

"Why?" asked Ross.

"Why do you think?" Kennedy replied. "Somebody has now tried to kill him twice, and his wife is dead. He's going to squeeze everything he can get out of this guy and find out who hired him."

Ross didn't like the sound of this. "So we have no idea where he is?"

Kennedy shook her head.

"Have you identified any of the thirteen?" asked the president.

"We think they are members of a Latino gang based out of Alexandria."

"A Latino gang," Ross said. "Why in the hell would they want to kill Rapp?"

"Since we don't have anyone to interrogate, I'm going with the assumption that they were offered cash. Mitch has never operated in Central America. A gang like this would have no reason to go after him."

"What does the FBI have to say?" Ross asked.

Kennedy hesitated briefly. "I haven't brought the FBI in on this."

"What?" Ross was shocked.

"Mark," Kennedy said, "we don't need this kind of publicity. This facility is off budget. With your political career still ahead of you, it would be wise for you to stay as far away from this thing as possible."

"But we have four dead federal employees and thirteen dead…citizens. I assume these men are citizens."

"Mark," Kennedy shook her head, "the murder of my people will not become an issue. These families are briefed about this type of possibility and they will not make a stink."

"It's a domestic federal facility, though. It falls under the FBI's jurisdiction."

"If we bring the FBI in on the investigation, we'll end up with reporters crawling all over this and you will end up sitting in front of a committee on the Hill answering some very uncomfortable questions, and all for what?"

"What about the…"

"Mark," Kennedy said with an edge to her voice, "we have thirteen dead gangbangers who killed four federal agents and we have it on tape. The punishment for killing a federal agent is the death penalty. Citizens or not, these thirteen guys have already been punished. Bringing in the FBI will accomplish nothing more than putting this whole sorry mess on the front page of every newspaper in the country."

"What about the fourteen guys?"

Kennedy took a step back and shrugged. Her nonverbal answer was clear. She could care less what happened to them.

Ross started to speak, but the president reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. "Mark, trust me on this. Sometimes you're better off not asking questions. Let Irene take care of it."

It was clear Ross was struggling with this concept. He drew in a breath through clenched teeth and said, "Fine, but we need to find Rapp and make sure he doesn't embarrass this country."

Kennedy expected this. "Why?"

"Because we are a nation of laws, and we can't have a federal employee running around other countries killing people."

Really, Kennedy thought to herself, what do you think Mitch has been doing for the last fifteen years? She shared a quick look with the president. "Mark, I want you to be real careful here. Think about how this would be done, and what type of unwanted attention it will bring us. For starters, we can't charge him with anything."

"How about the thirteen dead Latinos?"

"Mark," the president said in a forceful voice, "forget about what happened last night. I don't want to hear it brought up again."

"Fine," Ross said, backing off a bit, "but we have to do something."

Kennedy saw her opening and said, "I think I have a solution."

"Let's hear it," said Ross.

"For now, we only alert our station chiefs abroad. I can send out a flash message telling them if they are contacted by Mitch, or they hear anything about him, they are to pass it on to me ASAP. I can stipulate that I want him brought in for questioning."

"What about the embassies?" Ross asked.

Kennedy thought he would suggest this. "I would prefer to keep it within the Agency."

"Not a big enough net." Ross shook his head.

Kennedy looked to the president to see if he'd back her up.

"For now," Hayes said, "let's alert only the Agency people." The president noted that Ross didn't like this and added, "Mark, he's not going to reach out to anyone from State. If he comes up for help, he'll contact one of his Agency connections."

"But can we trust those people to turn him in?" Ross asked.

Both the president and Ross looked to the director of the CIA. The truth was that they could not trust the station chiefs, but Kennedy wasn't about to admit that. This was all about telling Mark Ross what he wanted to hear, so Kennedy said, "I'll start calling select station chiefs immediately, and I'll make it very clear that they are to report any contact whatsoever, or they'll spend the rest of their careers burrowed in the basement of Langley purging outdated files."

This seemed to satisfy Ross, and Kennedy decided that having accomplished what she'd set out to do, now was a good time to leave. "I know you two have an important lunch scheduled, so I won't keep you waiting. If there are any new developments I'll let you know, otherwise, I'll have a more detailed briefing ready for tomorrow morning."

The president thanked Kennedy, which inspired Ross to do the same. Kennedy left the lodge and was ferried to the helipad in a golf cart. As soon as she was tucked away in the back of her helicopter, she pulled out her secure satellite phone and punched in a number. After several rings a man answered on the other end and Kennedy said, "I just bought you a little more time."

The G-3 executive jet descended through the thin mountain air toward the old Soviet-era airport. They were in Northern Alliance territory; a small section of the country that had refused to be ruled by the Taliban. It was Sunday night. There were no clouds and a three-quarter moon bathed the rugged landscape beneath. It was almost 11:00, and from the air you would have no idea that Mazar-e Sharif was a city of over 100,000. There were only a few streetlights here, and an occasional floodlight. Very few cars were on the move. Even the runway lights appeared in spotty condition. Considering the sketchy shape of runways in this part of the world Scott Coleman had relieved one of his men and taken over the controls. If anyone was going to ruin his fifteen-million-dollar plane it would be him.