Consent to Kill (55 page)

T
ayyib was beginning to wonder if the woman knew much of anything. They’d taken her from the apartment, shoved her in the trunk of a car, and taken her back to the embassy. Tayyib had started with the fingernails on her left hand. He’d torn them off one at a time. Her story started to change after the third one. She had gone from saying she didn’t know where her boss was to telling him that he might be in Italy. Where in Italy, he wanted to know. She sobbed that she didn’t know where, just that she thought she overheard him say something about Italy. That was when he decided to let two of the men rape her. They had been eager enough, and Tayyib knew they would be grateful. Tayyib would not defile himself in such a way, but he knew with women, this type of subjugation could put them into the proper frame of mind.

He left the basement storage room and found the kitchen. He gave them an hour. He ate a sandwich, drank a glass of milk, and thought about what questions he would ask her when he started up again. Abel was a man who embraced technology. Tayyib had first met him five years ago. Even then he was carrying one of those combination handheld computers and cell phones. His office would be the key. There would be something there that would tell him where Abel was. Some piece of information stored on a computer. Tayyib could not disappoint Rashid. He had to find the German or the prince would never trust him again.

When he went back downstairs the men were finishing up with her. They had her stripped and bent over a table with her arms tied to the far legs with brown extension cords. She was there for him to take. He felt a rush of excitement and was seconds away from giving in. He forced himself to silently recite the salat ul-jumuah.
Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar … Ashahadu an la ilaha ill allah … Ashahadu anna Muhammadar Rasulullah … God is greater, God is greater. I declare there is no god but God. I declare Muhammad is the messenger of God …

The prayer, however, did not subdue his desires and he knew that he could no longer be in the presence of the temptress. One of the men laughed that she had begged them to stop. That she had mentioned something about a safe in the office. It was already past four in the morning. Tayyib angrily ordered the men to rape her again. Going to the office right now might arouse too much suspicion. They would have to clean her up and take her to the office in the morning.

R
app and Coleman took the stairs. Coleman was down them like a shot. Because of his stiff knee and thigh bruise Rapp fell slightly behind. Coleman waited for him on the street and they walked side by side, quickly, but not so fast as to raise unwanted suspicion. They passed one police officer on the way and paid him no attention. Rapp began gesturing with his hands and speaking to Coleman in French. They were both in jeans. Rapp was wearing his black Polartec jacket, and Coleman was wearing a dark brown bush jacket with oversized pockets. It was one long block and one short block. They arrived at the front door of the building in just under three minutes.

“Taser the big guy,” Coleman said as they walked up the steps.

“Yep. I want him alive.”

“And the other two?”

“Depends on what they do. You worry about the big guy. I’ll handle the other two. Milt,” Rapp said into the tiny microphone on his collar, “tell Sarah to give us a quick look. We’re headed into the building right now.”

Coleman nodded as Rapp began speaking in French again. They passed through the large heavy brass doors and continued across the lobby, straight to the elevators. They managed to catch one by themselves and on the way up, they listened to Sarah as she left the bathroom and walked past Abel’s office. “The door is closed, and I think they’re in there.”

“Wait for us, by the elevators,” Rapp said.

Five seconds later the door opened and Rapp and Coleman charged out. They met Sarah halfway down the hall and huddled.

“We go in fast. I’m first, Scott, you’re second, and Sarah, I want you to stay by the door. You’re silenced, right?”

“Yes.”

“Stay low. I don’t want any errant shots passing through a wall and hitting one of us. If we find someone in the outer office and they don’t do anything stupid, Scott and I will go right past them and it’s up to you to secure them. If the guy doesn’t do exactly as you say, shoot him.” Rapp looked into her eyes to see if this would be a problem. “Are you okay with that?”

She nodded, but then said, “Why don’t we get a fiber optic up here and have a peek under the door?”

Rapp shook his head.

“She’s right, Mitch,” Coleman said. “It’ll take five minutes tops.”

“I don’t want to waste five minutes, and we don’t need to make this complicated. We move fast and this whole thing is over in five seconds not five minutes. Shoot anyone except the girl and the big guy.”

“Fine.”

Rapp started down the hall and turned right at the end. Rapp was picturing the layout in his head. There would be a small reception area and then either a door straight ahead, or on the right or left that would lead to Abel’s office. When he was five paces away from the door his left hand slid around and underneath his jacket. His fingers found the hilt of the 9mm Glock and drew it from his waistband. With the silencer attached it was a long draw. Rapp stopped just short of the door and looked over his shoulder to make sure Coleman and Sarah were with him. He held up his right hand and then leaned forward and placed it on the doorknob.

Everything stopped for that instant. Rapp closed his eyes, dropped into a slight crouch, took one more deep breath, and then twisted the knob while leaning into the door with his left shoulder. He did it in one smooth motion with his gun extended. He found himself standing in an outer office that was approximately ten feet wide by fifteen feet long. It had a desk on the right, a couch on the left, and a door straight ahead. Rapp could hear hushed, male voices from the other room. He crept slowly across the room and then he heard something said in Arabic. He slowed for a second and leaned one way and then the other to see if he could tell where they were. He told himself this was no time to stop. They wouldn’t have their guns drawn and if they did, they would be at their side.

Rapp charged into the room, checking his left quickly and then sweeping to his right. The three of them were standing behind a large desk. A section of the bookcase was pulled out and behind it was a gray steel wall safe. None of them bothered to turn around so Rapp said, “Hey, guys.”

They all flinched in surprise, including the girl. Rapp’s eyes checked the hands of each man in less than a second. He saw one gun, the man on the far right, and that was where Rapp directed his aim. He was just about to say “Don’t even think about it” when the man moved. The gun was resting flat against his thigh. Rapp was looking him in the eye, but he saw the movement. The gun started to come up. It never got above his waist. Rapp squeezed the trigger and drilled the man right between the eyes. His head snapped back against the bookcase and he crumpled to the ground.

Coleman was already in the room, his Taser up and ready. He took aim at the man on the far right and pulled the trigger. A pair of fishhooks shot out from the end of the weapon and attached themselves to the man’s chest. Twenty thousand volts of electricity shot through the man’s body and he did the herky-jerky for a second and then collapsed to his knees, his face twisted in pain. Through the connecting wires Coleman hit him with another charge, and the man fell facedown on the rug, unable to move.

Both Rapp and Coleman took aim at the taller man while Sarah closed the door to the hallway.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Even as Rapp said it he knew they had a problem. The woman was standing too close to the man. Rapp could have shot him easily, but he wanted him alive. The man stepped quickly to the side and put the woman between them. He grabbed her by the throat with his right hand and the hair with his left.

“Drop your weapons.”

“Or what?” Rapp said.

“I’ll crush her throat.”

Rapp watched as the man increased pressure and the woman’s eyes began to bug out of her head. Rapp assessed his options. The guy had himself almost completely concealed behind the woman. His eyes danced around the periphery of the silhouette and he found his spot. Rapp dropped his muzzle three inches and squeezed the trigger.

The 9mm round hit him in the right elbow and shattered the socket. The response was instantaneous and gratifying. His right hand fell limply to his side, and his left hand released the woman’s hair. The man’s brain was on override, and his left hand came across his chest to aid his semi-attached right forearm. At the same time the woman doubled over on the desk gasping for air. That was when the fishhooks sunk into his chest and he was hit with the burning electrical charge.

Z
URICH
, S
WITZERLAND

A
bel stepped off the train, covered his mouth with a handkerchief, and thanked a God he didn’t believe in for the formation of the European Union. Gone were the days of customs and immigration checkpoints at every border and port of entry. Now they were all one big happy family and they could pass freely from one country to the next without going through any hassle. This all suited Abel’s new lifestyle very well. He’d taken the train from Venice to Milan where he spent the night in a completely forgettable hotel near the train station. He’d dined by himself at a small café. Gone were the expensive wine and food and hotels. If Rashid didn’t come through with the money by noon all of his hard work, and this entire gamble, would be for nothing.

He’d taken the first express train north in the morning. Fortunately it was far nicer than the run-down, soiled Ferrovie dello Stato train he’d taken from Venice. They made one stop at Chiaso and then crossed the border. The train continued on its way, rumbling through the beautiful countryside all morning long, winding its way north, coming out of the mountains and making a straight run for Zurich. Abel devoured five separate newspapers looking for information on Saeed’s death. All of the articles were thin on facts. It was too early to know for sure what had happened, but Abel knew it had been Rapp.

The train pulled into Zurich a few minutes before noon. His eyeglasses were in his pocket and his handkerchief covered his face as he passed under a tinted security camera pod. Abel walked briskly with his medium-sized wheeled suitcase rolling behind him. He did not go straight for the taxi line. He crossed the street and walked south down Bahnhofstrasse toward the lake. Abel knew the city as well as any in the world. He kept an apartment here that doubled as an office. He wouldn’t be going anywhere near the place, though.

After a brisk ten-minute walk he was in the heart of one of the world’s most upscale shopping districts. Abel turned east and took one of the low-slung bridges across the Limmat. He found a bench on the east bank and turned on his PDA. While he waited for the color screen to come to life he glanced up at the sky. It was a blanket of gray. No clouds, just flat gray blotting out the warm sun. A cool gust of wind kicked off the river and Abel turned up the collar of his trench coat.

The screen sprang to life and the tiny speaker announced that the device was ready with a few musical notes. Abel’s thumbs began working furiously. He found the bank’s Web site, entered his account number, and passed through three separate security portals until the account balance appeared on the screen. Abel paused, frowned, and then swore. The amount in the account was one million dollars. Not eleven.

Abel stood, took several laps around the park bench, and then sat back down and typed out the instructions to his banker. He wanted the money moved out of the account before he made his next call. He sent the instructions with all the proper passwords and then logged off. He called Rashid’s office. The prince was not in, but he was expecting the call. The assistant gave Abel a number to dial. Abel hung up without thanking the man and turned off his phone. He wondered if this was some kind of a trap. He decided to use a pay phone to make the call.

Half a block away he found one and punched in his calling card number followed by the new number. After a series of whirs and clicks a man answered on the other end.

“Prince Muhammad, now.”

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Just put him on the phone,” Abel snapped. He looked over both shoulders, up and down the riverbank, and counted the seconds.

“Erich?” the prince asked. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Vienna,” he lied. “Where are you?”

“Southern Spain.”

Abel shook his head. Rashid loved to talk about Spain and how someday again it would be Muslim. “I just checked the account. You are ten million dollars short.”

“I have some bad news for you. The Americans already know that you were working for Saeed.”

“You are lying.”

“No, I am not.”

“Who told you?”

“Their director of National Intelligence … Ross.”

“I don’t believe you.” Abel tried to sound calm even though his head was pounding.

“It is true. In fact I don’t think Vienna is a good place for you to be. Fly to Saudi Arabia and I will protect you.”

Fly to Saudi Arabia and you’ll kill me,
Abel thought to himself. “How did the Americans find out about me? Saeed would have told them nothing.”

“The assassins you hired have been talking.”

“They were caught?” Abel asked in disbelief.

“No. Not that I know of. All I was told was that the CIA has been in contact with the banks that you and Saeed used. Director Kennedy herself flew to Zurich and met with the bankers. Saeed did not take your money. The CIA did.”

“I don’t care who took my money. Our deal still stands. Eleven million dollars. You owe me ten.”

“Yes I do,” Rashid said in a reasonable voice, “and you will get it. Every six months I will wire you another million.”

“That’ll take five years.”

“Exactly, and during that time I will sleep well knowing that you have an incentive not to betray me.”

“No! We made a deal yesterday.”

“Deals get modified. Fly to Granada. I’ll send my plane. We can discuss your terms.”

Abel took the hard plastic handset and banged it against his forehead several times. He was in no position to negotiate. “Six months from today, I want to see a million dollars deposited in my account or I give the Americans everything on you. Not just this stuff about Rapp, but everything. And just in case you’ve decided to send that goon Tayyib after me, you’d better know I took out an insurance policy.”

“What insurance policy?”

“I put everything on an encrypted disk and gave it to an attorney.” Abel was lying. “If I fail to call him by a specific date each month he has instructions to send the disk to the FBI. I want my million dollars every six months, Rashid, and if I see any sign of Tayyib or any of his people I will call Mitch Rapp personally.”

Abel slammed the phone into its cradle, and spun around. He grabbed his bag and started off down the street. He hadn’t made arrangements with an attorney yet, but he would the first chance he got. Rashid’s renegotiated deal was hard to argue with. If he’d been in his shoes, he would have done the same thing. Abel still didn’t trust him and that was why he was going to have to proceed with plan B. It was a bit risky, but it was better to do it now than wait another day. The Americans were sure to find out about his mountain retreat at some point. He’d left his new Mercedes in a private garage, before he’d left for Venice. He would pick it up, dash across the border to his Alpine house, and empty out his safe, which had over $500,000 in cash, plus a few weapons, several sets of identification, and some very important files.