searching the roads in southern Mexico, but that’s going to be low percentage. It’s a lot of road and our satellite coverage is spotty.”
“And if you do manage to find us a target?” Coleman said. “What are our marching orders?”
The fact that she didn’t respond immediately worried him a bit.
“As of now, this is an unauthorized private operation on foreign soil. I’ve talked to the commander at Luke Air Force Base who’s a personal friend of mine and he’s agreed to put the appropriate aircraft on alert, but he isn’t going to do anything more than that without a direct order from the president.”
“Do you think you can get that?” Claudia asked.
“I’m meeting him in an hour, but a military incursion over the Mexican border involving a bombing run against a moving target is a big ask. The amount of ordnance necessary to ensure that the virus is completely eradicated is fairly shocking. I’m not hopeful.”
“Great,” Coleman said. “So you’re saying we should just handle this on our own with a handful of people and a minivan with a few guns in it. And if we make the slightest mistake, no big deal. Only a few hundred million people will die.”
“I’m doing everything I can, Scott. Alexander’s a good man and he’s been a good president. But politicians aren’t built for these kinds of all-or-nothing decisions.”
“What about going around him?”
This time the pause was long enough that Coleman thought they might have lost the satellite link. Finally she came back on.
“I had an informal conversation about that with a few highly placed people I won’t name. What I can tell you is that no one has the stomach for what would essentially be a coup. In a way, it’s comforting that our institutions are holding strong even in the face of something like this.”
“It doesn’t feel comforting from where I’m sitting, Irene.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. Claudia? Are you there? How are you holding up?”
The question was understandable. While Claudia Gould was a logistics genius, she’d spent most of her career supporting her private contractor husband. Her definition of failure had involved things like missing the target, getting arrested, and not being paid. Now she was getting a crash course in the difference between that world and the one inhabited by Mitch Rapp.
Her eyes narrowed and the expression on her youthful face hardened. She had a daughter to protect and, at thirty-six, a life left to live.
“If you say we’re the only people who can deal with this, then that’s what we’re going to do. Deal with it.”
CHAPTER 48
OUTSIDE OF SAN LUIS POTOSÍ
MEXICO
RAPP stopped and examined the chain link gate illuminated in the Humvee’s headlights. The sign on it was badly faded, but he could still make out the cheerful logo of a company that had once offered sightseeing flights over a nearby national park.
He dug a couple of antibiotic pills from his pocket and popped them in his mouth. A couple hours into his drive he’d spotted a pharmacy and made a quick stop. The man behind the counter had been oddly unfazed by Rapp’s demand for an anthrax remedy, but in retrospect it wasn’t so surprising. The American people were panicked over Halabi’s threats and loved buying cheap pharmaceuticals in foreign countries. There was a good chance that he wasn’t the first gringo to stop at that drugstore on his way home.
The bitter taste of the pills was strangely comforting. He had no idea if he’d inhaled any spores while emptying that bag into his bathtub, but chances were high. There was probably a reason the CDC didn’t issue kitchen gloves and tourist bandannas as standard protective gear.
He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and inched a hand closer to his Glock before registering the blond hair of Scott Coleman. The gate opened and he pulled through, idling while the former SEAL relocked the barrier and slipped into the passenger seat.
“I haven’t talked to Irene in more than two hours,” Rapp said, accelerating. “Give me a sit rep.”
“We got here about a half hour ago and I have a chopper inbound. The tarmac’s in worse condition than we thought so we can’t land planes. We should be able to get two private ones in the air from the local airport, though. Irene’s scrambling basically everyone the Agency has in-country—including a few people who retired down here. Not the most organized or well-trained force we’ve ever worked with, but at least we have warm bodies.”
“And your