self-deprecating attempt at a little levity. Later he realized Rickman was dead serious. Rickman was one of those people who were tolerated only during tough times - usually war. For the last eight years he'd run America's clandestine war in Afghanistan. More than a billion dollars in cash had passed through his hands. Most of it was used to bribe people into playing on the right team, but a fair amount of the money was used to kill enemies and for a laundry list of other unpleasant things that went with the territory. People back at Langley didn't want to know what Rickman was up to. They only wanted results, and that was something Rickman was exceedingly good at. Underneath Rickman's bland façade was a cunning mind that was perfectly suited to the duplicitous, infinitely complicated world of espionage.
Rapp understood the tinge of fear in his boss's voice when she'd called him a little over two hours ago. When the morning guards showed up, they had discovered the bodies and the absence of Joe Rickman and had immediately alerted John Hubbard, the CIA's Jalalabad base chief. Hubbard rang his boss in Kabul and the shit rolled uphill from there. Rapp received a call from CIA Director Irene Kennedy while he was sitting down for breakfast in the big mess hall at Bagram Air Force Base. He had just arrived in-country the previous evening on a high-priority mission that was now on hold. Kennedy passed along what little information she knew and ordered Rapp to grab the next Blackhawk to Jalalabad. Rapp didn't argue. He and four of his team members made the trip and were on the ground in Jalalabad before nine in the morning. Hubbard met them with a three-SUV convoy and a security detail and they rolled to the house.
Langley would want Rickman back, but Rapp got the strange feeling that all things considered, they would prefer the black-ops boss delivered in a body bag. It would be impossible to keep the kidnapping a secret. Rickman's operational knowledge and reach was too vast to ignore. Entire teams would already be gathered at Langley, working around the clock to assess the damage. If Rapp didn't find Rickman quickly, then complex, expensive operations would have to be unwound or assets would start showing up in morgues all across the Middle East, Southwest Asia, and beyond. Sooner or later Congress would get wind of the disaster and they would want answers. For a good number of people back at Langley, the only thing worse than Rickman spilling the Company secrets to an enemy would be Rickman testifying before Congress.
Rapp had a long and somewhat complicated history with Rickman. He respected the man, but it had taken a while. Rapp was considering how he would handle a possible order to eliminate Rickman when the towering Hubbard approached.
"This shit is really bad."
Rapp nodded. "It's about as bad as it could get."
Hubbard rubbed his bald head and asked, "How in the hell are we going to find him?"
"At this point I'm not sure." Rapp knew their chances for success were remote, but they had to start somewhere. "This is going to get really nasty, and if you don't have the stomach for it, Hub, I suggest you go back to the base and lock yourself in your office."
Hubbard studied Rapp for a moment and then nodded. "You don't have to worry about me getting all sensitive on you. I've been over here for two years. I've seen all kinds of crazy shit."
Most of that "crazy shit" was stuff done by the enemy. This time they would be the ones crossing the line. "I know you have," Rapp said, "but trust me, if we're going to get him back we are going to have to be more ruthless than you can imagine, and if at any point you start to have doubts, that's fine, step aside, but I need you to promise me you'll stick your head in the sand and keep your mouth shut."
Hubbard gave him a nervous smile. "I can do a Sergeant Schultz when I need to."
"Good," Rapp replied, even though he had his doubts.
"So where do you want to start?"
Rapp returned his attention to the row of dead men. "The bodyguards."
Hubbard turned his six-foot-five-inch frame toward the row of men and pursed his lips. "I think we can rule these four out."
Rapp focused on the man with the cratered face. An inside job was the obvious conclusion, but the bodyguards were