“No. When I found out what you’ve been up to, I drained what few bank accounts you had left and ran. I’m now hiding out in southern Texas, fearful of your reprisal.”
“That is pretty bad,” he said, feeling more ambivalent than he should have about Claudia and Steven’s thoroughness. His survival unquestionably depended on the convincing destruction of his life, but hearing it laid out in black and white was pretty sobering.
“There’s more.”
“More?” he said, feigning enthusiasm. “Really?”
“I’m not alone here in Texas. I left you for another man. In fact you know him. Scott Coleman. After working so closely together, a relationship evolved between us. He’s here now ready to protect me should you ever find us. In fact, he and Anna are out back grilling dinner. Would you like to talk to him?”
“No.” Rapp looked around the empty kitchen, trying not to think about her and Coleman flipping steaks while he waited for either the FBI or a cartel hit squad to show up on his doorstep.
“Mitch? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“You asked me to do this to you.”
“I know.”
“And the moment you shot those DEA agents, you passed the point of no return. There can’t be any holes in your cover or questions about your motivations.”
“It had to be done,” he reassured her.
“No, it didn’t,” she said, some of her carefully constructed calm starting to crack. “We could have—”
“Claudia . . . Not now, okay? I don’t have much light left and I have a lot of work to do. For all I know, Esparza has fifty men sitting at the end of my driveway waiting for sunset.”
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I shouldn’t have said anything. I was being selfish.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk later.”
He disconnected the call, wondering if what he’d just said was true. If they would ever talk again.
Rapp tossed the bottle into the sink, hearing it shatter against the porcelain. He’d made his decision and there was no changing it now. Time to focus.
CHAPTER 28
THE CAPITOL COMPLEX
WASHINGTON, D.C.
USA
IRENE Kennedy felt her pace slow as she approached Senator Barnett’s office. The emergency meeting was originally scheduled to take place in the White House but when rumors about Mitch Rapp had begun circulating, the location had abruptly changed. And when those rumors had turned toxic, the president suddenly discovered a conflict that wouldn’t allow him to attend. Not surprising, but disappointing. And a bit foreboding.
She passed through Barnett’s outer office and was motioned to an open door at the back. Inside she found Barnett standing in the middle of the imposing space, speaking quietly with the head of the DEA.
Her handshake with Woodman was tense and perfunctory, but Barnett dispensed with the pleasantry entirely, instead walking to a small conference table. Kennedy was surprised, having assumed that the politician would take a position of authority behind her desk. The purpose of the move became clear when Woodman took a seat to the right of her. The only remaining chair was a rather austere wooden one directly across from them.
The battle lines had been drawn.
“When was the last time you spoke to Mitch Rapp?” Barnett asked.
“I’m not sure exactly. A few weeks? Around the time the president asked him to stand down.”
Barnett made a show of writing her response down. “You’re certain?”
“If you need a precise date and time, I can check my phone records and provide you with one.”
She didn’t seem that interested. “Are you aware that Mr. Rapp was sent to interrogate the two men who smuggled the anthrax across the U.S. border?”
“Sent? By whom?”
“I assume by you.”
“I can assure you that isn’t the case, Senator.”
“So you’re saying you had no involvement in those orders?”
“I think we’ve already established that.”
Clearly Barnett was less interested in what was happening with the DEA and ISIS than she was with understanding who could be blamed and how it could help her quest for the presidency.
“Are you aware of what happened during Rapp’s questioning of the two suspects?”
“I’m not.”
It was actually true. There was a significant amount of loose talk swirling around the Beltway, but it would have been unnecessarily dangerous for her to look into it. For the first time in her career, ignorance seemed to be the best course.
“The police received an anonymous tip about gunshots at the facility where the men were being held. When they arrived, they found the suspects dead and three DEA agents gravely wounded.”
Barnett leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile exposing