Vince Flynn - Consent To Kill

The suicide bombers and terrorists were bad enough, but on a certain level Rapp at least respected them for having the balls to do it themselves. Men like Saeed, however, who sat back and gave money to these zealots like it was some hobby, they were reprehensible. They knew exactly where their money was going. They knew they were funding suicide bombers who would get on buses and kill innocent men, women, and children, and worse, they were proud that they had a hand in it. Proud and blinded by the demented belief that they were doing God's work.

Rapp clutched the steering wheel and drove on through the well-kept business district. His tears were long gone, dried up and replaced with a white hot anger that focused his sense of mission and purpose. For most people, seeking revenge for the murder of a loved one was an enticing, but ultimately impossible notion. Apprehension overtaking another life, no matter how guilty the person might be, would weigh heavily on most people. For Rapp there would be none of that. This was another day at the office, only quite a bit more personal. Over the last fifteen or so years he'd killed a lot of people. A few he'd pitied, but most he'd despised. They were men who clung to their arcane, sexist, and bigoted perversion of Islam while the rest of the world passed them by, men who believed in the nobility of suicide bombers, who wantonly killed tiny children.

Rapp had always avoided that, always done everything in his power to make sure that innocent people did not get caught up in the violence, but today would be a test. Men like Saeed always traveled in entourages, with cousins and nephews and assistants and servants and friends. How many of these men who surrounded Saeed were directly involved in the death of his wife, Rapp wasn't sure, but it was likely that many if not all were complicit through their knowledge of the plan. Was that enough to execute them? Rapp had struggled with the question. These men were the enemy, after all. They were all Wahhabis who constantly called for jihad and cheered the beheadings of innocent civilian contractors in Iraq. Men who kept their wives locked up at home. Men who had probably cheered the death of Rapp's wife. The thought of them celebrating the murder of his Anna tested all restraint. Rapp decided that he would visit upon these pious men the same type of ugly, brutal mayhem they so glibly sponsored.

He slowed the van and took a right turn. The van was the only vehicle on the street. The call to prayer could be heard thrumming out its hypnotic beat in the midday heat. Rapp saw one man, coming toward him. He was wearing a white headdress held in place by a simple black rope and a white kaffiyeh. If the suit and tie was the uniform of the American businessman, this was the Saudi equivalent. The man had a black beard and was wearing dark sunglasses. He appeared to be in a hurry and several times looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him. Normally, this behavior would have caught Rapp's attention, but it was easy to figure out why the man was acting this way. He was afraid he would be caught by the religious police, and chastised for not praying.

Rapp slowed as he neared the other end of the long block. The mosque and the headquarters of Abdullah Telecommunications stood out for no other reason than their size and location. The office building was a minimalist block of concrete, entirely forgettable if not for its sheer size. The mosque, however, was one of the most ornate Rapp had ever seen. Four towering minarets marked each corner and a massive gold dome dominated the center of the building. Rapp suspected that the gold was real. Up ahead, at the corner of the building, he noted a security camera aimed to cover the area around the front door.

Rapp went straight at the light and then took a left turn. He drove around the block twice and settled on a spot that was not covered by the security camera. It also was shaded and afforded a view of the mosque. He turned off the engine and climbed into the back to check on Waheed. Rapp sat him up and then leaned him against the side of the van. He pulled the blindfold off his face and in Arabic asked him how he was doing. Waheed told him he was thirsty. Rapp placed a hand under his bearded chin, tilted his head back, and gave him some water.

"Better?" Rapp asked.

Waheed nodded.

"Do you think you can walk?"

"I'm not sure."

Rapp pulled open a blade and sliced the white plastic flex cuffs around Waheed's ankles. He told him to move his legs around a bit and asked if he'd like another candy bar. Waheed nodded eagerly. Rapp took off the wrapper and let him hold it in his bound hands.

"We are parked next to your father's office." Rapp noted Waheed seemed surprised. "Your dad does not know the exchange is going to take place. Do you understand?"

Waheed nodded.

"There is a man out there who will have a gun on you at all times. If you do anything other than hug your father he will shoot you. We don't want to make a big scene. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Rapp looked at his watch. There was no man with a gun of course, but Waheed would never know that. "Are you ready to take a walk?"

"Yes."

Rapp cut the flex cuffs on Waheed's wrists and said, "You know I'd just as soon kill you, so don't do anything stupid." With his knife still in hand Rapp acted as if he was straightening Waheed's robes. His free hand slid between the folds and checked something on the Saudi's vest. Rapp put the knife away and opened the back door. The mosque would begin to empty in a few minutes. He helped Waheed edge his way to the back tailgate. With his sunglasses, dark skin, robes, and black beard Rapp fit right in. He let Waheed sit there for twenty seconds, his feet resting on the ground. Rapp did not give him sunglasses. He wanted Saeed to recognize his son. Grabbing him under the arm, Rapp helped him to his feet. In the shade the heat wasn't too bad and in fact Rapp hoped it would help speed the bloodflow to Waheed's legs.

The first step was not good. Waheed's legs buckled and Rapp had to move quickly to get under him so he didn't drop to the pavement. Rapp stood him up against the back of the van, closing one of the rear cargo doors.

"Small steps," Rapp said. He moved Waheed away from the van and closed the other door.

Waheed put one hand against the side of the van and started to walk while Rapp had a firm grip on his left side. He made it past the van to a palm tree and stopped there for a few seconds.

"Remember…nothing stupid."

Waheed's eyes were slowly adjusting to the light. "Why are you doing this?"

"Let's just say the king likes your father and leave it at that."

Waheed smiled, proud that his release had been secured by none other than the king of Saudi Arabia. This news seemed to give Waheed a much-needed boost in energy. They made it to the corner of the building. A security camera was mounted above their heads. Rapp wasn't worried. Waheed stood up on his own for the first time. He looked across the street at the beautiful mosque has father had built and was overcome with emotion.

He started to weep and Rapp said, "Come on. There'll be time for that later. Don't fuck this thing up."

Rapp led him around the corner. There was a fountain in front of the building ringed by stone benches. If for some reason Waheed was unable to stand, Rapp would leave him there and let the father come to him. They stood by the fountain for a minute. Rapp pulled out a bottle of water and gave the Saudi another drink.

"How do you feel?"

"Better." He blinked repeatedly under the bright Saudi sky.

The front door to the mosque opened and two men appeared. "It won't be long now," Rapp said. "You are to stay on this side of the street. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"If you try to cross the street you will be shot. Do you understand?"