She continued to stare, but the fear seemed to diminish a bit. She was tough, like her mother. And, in truth, like her father.
“How do you know which ones are bad?” she said finally.
Rapp suppressed a smile that would be inappropriate given the gravity of the subject. At least she was talking to him. That was a serious victory after what he’d just put her through.
“The bad ones want to cheat you. Or steal from you. And a few-like the men back there-might even want to hurt you. The good ones try to help.”
“What about that American man? Kent. Is he good?”
Rapp rubbed his beard for a few seconds but couldn’t come up with an answer. He considered lying but couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been born into this world but it was a reality she couldn’t escape.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“But-”
“Anna,” her mother admonished. “He said he doesn’t know.”
The young girl looked at her feet. “Okay.”
“Guess what?” Rapp said, feeling a bit guilty about not having a better answer for the girl. “I think you should go introduce yourself to the pilots. And tell them I said to let you fly.”
She glanced at her mother, who nodded, and then disappeared up the aisle. Whether it was because she was interested in getting her hands on the plane’s controls or to get away from him, he wasn’t sure. Probably a little of both.
“Sometimes children ask hard questions,” Claudia said.
“Yeah.”
He propped his elbows on his knees and got his first real look at her since he’d arrived in Africa. The tan she’d had when he’d last seen her in Greece had faded and her pale skin accented dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was thirty-six, but the disparity in their ages looked greater. Decades of desert sun, sandstorms, and memories of dead friends and enemies conspired to make him look older than he was.
The plane lurched and Claudia glanced back toward the cockpit. When she looked back at him, it wasn’t with the expression he’d expected. In fact, he couldn’t read her features at all.
“They’re actually letting her fly.”
“Are they?”
“People do what you tell them to, don’t they?”
“Most of them.”
“And the ones who don’t?”
He leaned back, suddenly wanting to put some distance between them. “You were with Louis for a long time. I should be no mystery to you.”
She switched to French, a language she was more comfortable with. “No. You’re nothing like Louis.”
He wasn’t sure how to take that. Did she see him as better? Worse? Her husband was a remorseless sociopath who would kill anyone for the right payday. Rapp was very much not that person. But that wasn’t necessarily evident from the outside. In fact, he’d killed far more men than her husband had. The difference was in the subtleties of motivation.
“Thank you for saving us,” she said finally. “Again.”
He shook his head. “It was my fault, Claudia. It shouldn’t have been possible to find you. I missed something.”
“No one can truly disappear. It’s something I know well from my time in…” Her voice faded for a moment. “Your business.”
“Still, I-”
“Some of Louis’s enemies have tremendous resources, Mitch. There’s only so much that can be done.”
He didn’t respond, reluctant to tell her that this was about him, not her dead husband. And while she was wrong about motivation, she was right about the issue of resources. The CIA was the world’s expert at this, and the men who had been assigned to her case were very aware that he was watching. The idea that a Russian organized crime outfit or ISIS had the sophistication to pull this off was incredibly far-fetched. They’d need someone inside the Agency or an organization with enough brute-force capacity to sift through every passport issued, house sold, and bank account opened worldwide.
No, this screamed Russian intelligence. But why? It was a given that they had a keen interest in who controlled Pakistan, but how would exacerbating the lack of security around that country’s nuclear arsenal help their cause? It seemed like too much risk for not enough reward. Even for Maxim Krupin.
“I don’t know what to do, Mitch. I deserve this. I didn’t pull the trigger on Louis’s contracts, but I might as well have. I participated and I benefited. I’m still benefiting. I have tens of millions of dollars in my bank account. All blood money. But Anna is innocent. She has to be protected.”
Rapp let out a long breath. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought he could get around this. Wishful thinking wasn’t normally one of his failings.
“This wasn’t about you, Claudia. Someone wanted to distract me.”
“Why would they use me to do that? You’ve already given me a new life. You owe me nothing. Why would they think you’d care?”
Because he did. But he wasn’t ready to say that.
“I don’t know.”
“If this wasn’t about Louis and the men involved are dead, does that mean you’re taking us home?”
“No. I need to make sure your identity hasn’t hit the street and that no one’s going to try to follow up on this. The plane’s going to drop me off and then take you to Washington. A very trustworthy man named Mike Nash is going to pick you up from the airport and take you to my apartment. You’ll be safe there while I work this out.”
“And by that you mean while you kill everyone involved.”
If he’d been talking to his late wife, this would be where the fancy footwork started. But there was no point. Claudia understood how this worked.
“Yes.”
“Can I help?”
“I think I can handle it, but thank you.”
“I can help, you know. As ashamed as I am to say this, I was good at what I did.”
“I know,” he said honestly. “And if I wasn’t one hundred percent confident in my team, I’d be taking you up on your offer.”
She reached out and laid a hand on top of his. “I should be dead or in prison, Mitch. Instead, I live in the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen, in the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Anna has a wonderful school and wonderful new friends. I want to find a way to repay you.”
Rapp’s phone chimed and he glanced down at it, expecting to find an update on the CIA crew being brought in to clean up the mess he’d left. Instead, it was a threat. But not from the Pakistanis or Russians. It was a warning that if he didn’t make a decision in the next hour, his kitchen counters would be topped with pink Formica.
Rapp glanced up at Claudia. “Is that a serious offer?”
“Of course it is.”
He turned the phone and showed her the text. “I’m finishing up building a house outside D.C. and this woman’s driving me crazy. I’m going to set up a meeting between the two of you for tomorrow. After that, the only thing I ever want to hear on this subject is that the key’s waiting for me under the mat.”
CHAPTER 9
ISLAMABAD
PAKISTAN
GRISHA Azarov strode purposefully across the lobby of the Islamabad Marriott. It was after midnight, so it was virtually empty. A haggard-looking English couple was giving instructions to a bellboy in the corner and an attractive young woman was manning the reception desk. In his peripheral vision, he spotted a man coming through the door behind her but immediately registered him as benign. The hotel manager.
“It’s nice to have you back, sir.”
Azarov nodded politely, but didn’t stop. He suspected that the man had stayed this late solely to provide that greeting and to make certain that the details relating to Azarov’s arrival had been attended to.
As expected, the elevator was empty and he inserted the key for the top floor. As was customary, the hotel’s most luxurious suite had been rented for him in the name of the Russian energy consulting firm he was the president of. The company had been bankrolled by Maxim Krupin with the help of the oligarchs who now made up a significant portion of his client list.