Consent to Kill (25 page)

“No.” She smiled. “I’m pregnant.”

Rapp didn’t move for several seconds. His mind was trying to cross the divide. As far as he knew, his wife was on the Pill.

“I know,” she said reading his expression, “but I took the test twice, plus I’m late.”

“But how?”

She shrugged. “It says right on the birth control package, ‘Ninety-nine percent effective.’I guess we fall into the one percent.”

They’d talked about having kids almost from the day they’d met. They both wanted at least two, but Anna was in no rush. There were certain things she wanted to do careerwise first. Rapp looked at her carefully. “Are you okay with this?”

“Of course I am! Are you kidding me?”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked a bit tentatively.

Rapp looked at her angelic face. He could see now that she was worried about his reaction. He reached out with his hand and gently held the side of her face. “I couldn’t be happier.”

V
IENNA
, A
USTRIA

A
bel sat quietly at his desk. His office was on the third floor of a building built just prior to the start of WWI. The building, like much of Vienna, was a work of art. The immaculate baroque structure was made out of stone and marble. The roof was a patina covered copper and the fifteen-foot-tall plaster ceilings were decorated in ornate relief. It was well ordered, occupied mostly by business professionals. From his window Abel looked out onto Parliament and its monument to Athena, the goddess of wisdom and warfare.
My, how mankind has changed in one century,
he thought. No society that he knew of today would associate wisdom with war, let alone erect a statue in homage to the goddess of the latter. Abel continued looking at the golden-leaf headdress of the Greek goddess. Where was it all headed? he wondered.

Great civilizations rose and fell as surely as the tides. The Egyptians, the Incas, the Mayans, the Greeks, the Persians, the Romans, the Mongol empire, the Ottoman empire all came and went. The Austro-Hungarian empire, the French, the British, the Russians, and the Nazis would someday merit only a footnote. Who knew what waited for the Americans? The other superpower, the Soviet Union, had lasted less than a hundred years with their grand experiment of communism. A blink as far as history was concerned. If Abel had to guess, America’s preeminence on the world stage would last no more than another hundred years. The country had too many rights and too much wealth. Not enough sacrifice. Too much selfishness. The civilizations that had made their mark did so through brutality or great self-sacrifice by the populace, and often both. The Chinese would become the next sole superpower. They were hungry for change. Such long-range forecasts were always interesting to him, but in the here and now he had more pressing issues.

There was a certain Saudi prince whom he no longer trusted. Abel drew his attention away from the statue of Athena and looked at the documents on his desk. They represented his complete financial picture. Based on the papers before him, the assassin had been right in his assessment. Abel was not liquid enough. His real estate holdings in Switzerland and Austria were worth approximately $3,000,000. He had an additional $1,200,000 in cash and securities that he could liquidate without too much difficulty. It was not enough to live on for very long if he was forced to run. At least not with the lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to. What the assassin did not know, however, was that Abel was pocketing a full half of the fee. To add to the $1,200,000 in securities he now had $5,000,000 in cash. With that type of money he could probably disappear for a while. If the assassin succeeded in killing Rapp he would get another $5,000,000. Now he was talking real money, but still the thought of leaving behind his current life was not appealing to him.

Abel was facing a real quandary. As things sat now he had to prepare for three possibilities. The first was that the assassin would succeed and the Americans would start beating the bushes in search of Rapp’s killer. This was the best outcome. Abel felt confident that, short of capturing the assassin, there was no way the Americans could link him to any of this. He’d been very careful in covering his financial tracks. The second possibility, which he was not even confident that he could pull off, would be to kill the assassin after he completed the job. That approach could blow up in his face in a variety of ways, the worst of which would be the assassin not dying and hunting Abel down. So far the assassin had been ahead of him every step of the way. There was no logical reason for him to think that he could suddenly outwit this extremely capable man. The third contingency to prepare for was that he himself was already a target. It would be just like Prince Muhammad to have already hired someone to take care of him. Any feeling of loyalty he’d felt toward the prince, which was really nothing more than a professional obligation to perform the duties he was paid for in the best possible way, was now almost entirely gone. He had suspected it would someday come to this. From the very beginning he had known the score with the Saudis. Family and tribal members came first. It was time to part ways with Rashid. The trick would be to do it while still collecting the remainder of the fee and keeping his life. Beyond that he desperately wanted to hold on to his real estate possessions.

In the meantime he would have to plan for all three contingencies. First, he would see if he could get any more information from his old handler Dimitri. The former KGB spook had to know more about this assassin than simply a phone number and an e-mail address. If he could find out who the assassin was, matters would be greatly simplified. If the man succeeded in killing Rapp, he would be expecting another $5,000,000 for fulfilling the contract. Abel could probably get the Hungarians to kill him for $100,000, maybe $200,000 at the most. Abel could then pocket another $4,800,000 and sever his business relationship with Rashid in an amicable fashion. If he couldn’t find out any more about the assassin he would simply have to tread very lightly until things blew over. He reached a conclusion about what he must do in the meantime.

Abel swiveled in his chair and tapped the space bar on his computer to get rid of the screen saver. His Internet browser popped to full color on his flat-panel monitor. His fingers remained poised above the keys for a second and then he began typing his message. He was well aware of the interception capabilities of the Americans, so he kept his prose businesslike and to the point. For now he would keep his options open, but he would be a fool if he didn’t begin to take certain precautions. Once this e-mail was sent he would need to make himself scarce. Now was the perfect time to take a vacation.

W
ASHINGTON
, DC

S
he woke up before he did, and started for the bathroom. As soon as she stood up she noticed something wasn’t right. The room came in and out of focus, her steps were unsteady. She reached for the door frame to steady herself and then dashed for the toilet. She vomited once and then a second and third time. She sat there for a few seconds, leaning against the glass wall of the shower stall and holding her hair in a makeshift ponytail with her right hand. A thin layer of sweat covered her upper lip, but other than that she felt almost immediately better.
So this is what morning sickness is like,
she thought.

Claudia pulled herself off the floor and regarded her reflection in the mirror. She looked pasty white with a touch of gray. Not very flattering. When would she tell him? She had been so close, even last night, but at the last second something always came up. Now she was worried that she would distract him, and they could have none of that. He needed to stay focused and get this over with as quickly as possible. She looked at herself and struggled with what she should do. She turned on the faucet and doused her face with cold water repeatedly. She decided to wait until they were done with this job. Then she would tell him.

She brushed her teeth and took a shower. She felt almost normal despite the fact that she was famished. After wrapping herself in one of the plush white robes, Claudia opened the door and immediately registered the unmistakable aromas of sausage and cinnamon. She remembered that Louie had filled out the room service card for breakfast and left it on the door before they went to bed. He was now sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a large glass of orange juice in his hand. Claudia wasted no time parking herself next to him and grabbing the other glass of orange juice. She drank nearly half of it before she set it back down. The relief it brought was nearly instantaneous. She pulled the metal cover off of her breakfast and started slathering butter on her French toast. Next came the warm syrup and she dug in. Her focus on filling her stomach was so thorough she didn’t notice that Louie was watching her.

The local NBC morning news was on the TV. Louie was also wearing one of the white robes provided by the hotel. His brown hair had that bed-head look, and the front page of the
Washington Post
sat folded on his lap. He’d stopped reading the paper and the TV was nothing more than background noise. His undivided and very discerning attention was focused entirely on the object of his affection. Claudia finally noticed that he was watching her. She set her fork down and wiped her mouth. After taking a drink of orange juice she turned and smiled. It seemed a bit forced.

His eyes narrowed and he said, “Are you pregnant?”

Claudia blinked. “What?”

Louie noted that her response was defensive. “It’s not a difficult question.”

She tugged at the neck of her robe and then crossed her legs, draping her left arm protectively across her abdomen.

He watched her every move, knowing the answer without having to hear it from her lips. Gould reached out and placed a gentle hand on her forearm. He pushed from his mind any thoughts of personal hurt that she hadn’t told him and instead said, “If you are, it will make me the happiest man in the world.”

Gould tilted his head and watched her intently. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly, and then her eyes filled with tears. “That is, if the child is mine,” Gould added.

The tears spilled over and fell down the smooth skin of her cheeks. She let out a half laugh, half cry and swatted at him. “Yes … all those other men I sleep with. You’ll all have to take blood tests so we can sort the whole mess out. Of course it’s yours, you jerk.”

Gould laughed and pulled her close. He kissed her forehead and rocked her like a baby. He was smiling from ear to ear. In a soft, almost apologetic voice he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want it to distract you. I want us to get through this and then we are done with this life once and for all.” She tugged at the sleeve of her robe and wiped her tears. “How did you figure it out?”

He smiled. “There were a few telltale signs here and there.”

“Like what?”

“Well … I noticed when we were having sex last night that your breasts looked …” He gestured with his hands and groped for the right word.

“Bigger,” Claudia offered.

“Yes, that would be the right adjective.” He smiled and then added, “When I picked you up yesterday at the airport you were literally glowing. I thought it was from your brief stop in the Caribbean, but that didn’t make much sense. You weren’t there long enough. The giveaway, though, was your dash to the bathroom. I haven’t seen you throw up in years. And then you came out here and inhaled half of your breakfast before you even noticed I was sitting next to you.”

“You saw all of that,” she said in a surprised tone.

“Claudia, darling, that’s what I do for a living. I watch people. I study them.”

She looked toward the window and nodded.
And then you kill them,
she thought. She sat in silence for a moment and then turned her attention back to his eyes. How could those caring eyes belong to a man capable of such violence? She needed to purge that part of him. He hadn’t always been that way. Surely at some point he had been a carefree sunny little boy. Even as an adult, as a hired assassin, there was a gentle side to him. His father unwittingly pushed him into the arms of the Legion, and they had turned him into a killer. It would be her job to eradicate those instincts, to turn him back into the man he should have been.

She touched his face. “Now do you understand why this must be our last job?”

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. “Yes. I do.” He held her tight and thought about the very fundamental ways in which his life would soon be changing. Almost immediately, though, his thoughts returned to the here and now. The baby could wait. Would have to wait. They had to keep their focus and see this last job through.

He looked at the clock and asked, “Can you be ready to go in twenty minutes?”

“Why?”

Gould pointed at the TV. “I want to walk over to the White House and get a look at Mrs. Rapp.”

She regarded the TV for a moment and then Louie. Part of her simply wanted to take the money and run, but she knew such talk would only upset him.
We have the rest of our lives together,
she told herself.
Just get through this week and everything will be different.

I
T WAS A
still morning. Not even the slightest breeze. The temperature was in the mid-fifties and rising with the climbing sun. Louie told Claudia to put on the workout clothes he’d purchased for her and he donned his new Nike pants and zippered top. They both wore baseball caps and Oakley sunglasses. They looked like Mr. and Mrs. American fitness. Before picking up Claudia at the airport he’d stopped on the outskirts of Baltimore at a Best Buy superstore and bought a Canon 10D digital camera and a 20 x 140 zoom lens. Louie looped the strap around his neck and brought his left arm up through the opening so that the camera lay snug against the left side of his back. They took the stairs rather than the elevator and exited the lobby onto Farragut Square. There was a Starbucks on K Street near the metro stop and they took their spot in the busy morning queue. Louie got a small black coffee and Claudia ordered some herbal decaffeinated tea.

With warm cups in hand they headed south for the short walk to the White House. It was October in DC, so there were nowhere near as many tourists as there would have been in the summer, though there were still a fair number. They came upon a group of Asians who were being led by a private tour guide. They were headed in the same direction as Louie and Claudia and took up most of the sidewalk. At the corner of 17th and I, they stopped to take photos of some building of interest across the street. Louie took the opportunity to find a way around them and kept moving. He did not want to be late. A block later they reached the northwest corner of Lafayette Square and passed the statue of Baron von Steuben. Steuben was a German officer who fought alongside George Washington during the Revolutionary War. The White House and the impressive neoclassical facade of the Treasury Building were now in full view. Louie checked his watch and slowed his pace.

“When I was a child my father used to bring us here for picnics on Sunday afternoons.” Louie kept walking and looked around. “My father was very fond of this park.”

Claudia was surprised by the disclosure. Louie rarely spoke of his father. “Why is that?”

“Lafayette … the famous Frenchman who fought with the Americans in their War of Independence. The park is named after him.” Louie pointed to the southwest corner. “Over there is General Rochambeau, the French hero of the battle of New Orleans, and in the far corner is General Lafayette himself.”

Claudia looked to the center of the park where there was a magnificent statue of a man on horseback. The horse was set atop a large block of granite, frozen in time, rearing back on its hind legs. The rider was holding on to the beast’s reins with one hand and waving his hat in the air with the other. The base of the statue was encircled by four cannons. “Don’t you mean that statue right there?”

Louie scoffed. “You would think so, but that is President Andrew Jackson. It infuriated my father to no end that in a park that was designed to honor those allies who stood by America’s side at the fledgling country’s most crucial hour, they erect in the center of that very park a statue of, not Lafayette himself, but instead an American president.”

“If it bothered him so, why did he bring you here?”

“That is a good question.” Louie did not answer right away. They walked hand in hand for a while. Finally, as they neared the south end of the park he said, “Maybe it was my mother who liked to come here. My sisters and I were little then. It was during my father’s first posting at our embassy in Washington. TV was very big in America … even then. My mother did not like TV. My sisters and I did. There was no better way to master the American way of speaking English than watching TV.”

Claudia nodded. Louie had told her this before. “So why the park?”

“Anything that got us outside and away from TV. Our Saturdays were filled with educational trips. We scoured every museum in town, every park, every statue and then on Sundays if the weather was nice we’d come here.” That seemed to give Louie pause and then he added, “My father both loved and hated America. He was very fond of pointing out, though, that the American Dream would not have been possible if it hadn’t been for French aid, French naval power, and men like Lafayette and Rochambeau.”

“And if it wasn’t for the American Revolution, we French would still be ruled by a monarch.”

Louie laughed. “I said that same thing to him one day when I was in high school. He turned so red that I thought for a second he might hit me.”

They reached the southern edge of the park. Pennsylvania Avenue was all that separated them from the White House. That and a heavy, black wrought-iron fence and gang of heavily armed men, only a few of whom were visible. Louie looked beyond the fence. Out in front of the West Wing, TV cameras were set up and people were milling about. Louie picked her out almost immediately. From this distance he couldn’t tell it was her for certain, but he was pretty sure.

“Here.” He handed Claudia his cup of coffee and grabbed the digital camera. The camera was high-end, with a lens that cost over a thousand dollars, but it was very user-friendly. Louie turned the selector switch to the automatic mode and removed the lens cap. He brought the camera up and pointed it at the White House. He took one shot and then another, just like hundreds, if not thousands of tourists do every day. He moved the camera over to the West Wing and snapped off a couple more. With his right hand he twisted the telephoto lens clockwise and zeroed in on the reporters and camera people. He found her with ease. She was talking on a cell phone and laughing. Louie snapped a photo and then looked at the viewscreen. It was her. He showed it to Claudia, who nodded.

“That’s her. What do we do now?”

“We get a closer look. We watch her do the news, and then we see if she leaves to go anywhere.”

Claudia looked to her right and then her left. At both ends of the street were guard booths. There was another one ahead and to the left where they were headed. “There are cameras everywhere as well as security people.”

Louie glanced at the roof of the White House and spotted two Secret Service guys wearing blue coveralls. Probably snipers. “Don’t worry, darling. We’re not going to hang around long. We’re going to act like tourists. Do a little sightseeing, maybe get some more coffee, check out a few parking garages.”

“Parking garages?”

Louie took his coffee back and grabbed her hand. “Remember that credit report I had you run?”

“Yes.”

“Did you learn anything from it?”

“She likes to shop.”

“So do you.” He couldn’t see beyond her dark sunglasses, but he knew she was glaring at him.

“I don’t spend anywhere near what she spends.”

“That is true. But we’ll see how you fare when we settle down.”

“Are you done analyzing my shopping habits?”

“Yes. What else did you learn from the report?”