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“I didn’t get it at first, but now it seems obvious. He’s telling us that he had nothing to do with the deaths of the two hotel guests and the worker in the alley. He specifically said he stuck to protocol. That he went out the window and the fifth man was responsible for the other three.”
Stansfield had understood what Rapp was trying to say the first time Kennedy repeated the conversation. His mind had already jumped to another detail. “I received a report from our station chief last night. He said the four dead bodyguards all had silenced MP5s.”
Kennedy pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“You’ve had protection details. Have you ever seen your details carry silenced weapons?”
Kennedy thought about the men who occasionally kept an eye on her when she was in a particularly nasty part of the world. “No . . . come to think of it.”
“There’s also a rumor that the Paris police are having a hard time finding anyone who saw these bodyguards with Tarek.”
“You mean in the days preceding the attack?”
“Yes.”
“This doesn’t add up.”
“No it doesn’t,” Stansfield said. “You said Mitch said it was a trap?”
“Yes.”
Stansfield stood and walked over to his desk. He stopped and looked out the window at the rolling Virginia countryside. He began connecting the dots and after a half a minute he said, “I think he’s probably right. Bodyguards don’t carry silenced weapons.” Stansfield turned around. “Bodyguards make sure they are visible so they can act as a deterrent and bodyguards don’t fire their weapons aimlessly . . . at least not good ones.”
“I’m not sure I follow the last part?” Lewis asked.
“Apparently over three hundred rounds were fired in that hotel room. Doesn’t that seem a bit excessive to either of you?” Stansfield shook his head. “Put yourself in their shoes. You are tasked with protecting one of your country’s most important ministers. Do you think you are going to simply rush into the room, guns blazing on full automatic? Tarek and the prostitute were shot more than a dozen times each. I took another look at Mitch’s file yesterday. He’s one or two shots to the head and that’s it.”
Lewis nodded. “That’s how Hurley trained him. The caliber of the weapon and the distance to the target dictate the number of shots. Rapp likes to get close for the kill shot . . . that’s what Hurley calls it.”
Stansfield had heard it all before. Rapp was not the first person Hurley had trained. “Get close, keep it simple, one or two shots to the head, and then get clear.”
“That’s what he tells his trainees,” Lewis said.
“So does either of you believe that Rapp went into that hotel room and shot Tarek a dozen plus times and then pumped as many rounds into the prostitute?”
“Not unless he lost his mind,” Lewis replied.
Kennedy frowned and said, “It’s not his MO. He uses a nine-millimeter Beretta . . . 92F. Eighteen rounds in the grip plus one in the chamber. Two backup magazines and a small backup nine-millimeter. There’s no way he’d waste that many rounds on two people.”
“No,” Stansfield said, “plus we have to assume he killed four of the bodyguards.”
Kennedy looked at her boss and said, “The two hotel guests and the employee were all sprayed with bullets. Multiple shots to the chest and face, in one case.” Kennedy shook her head. “I should have seen it sooner.”
“And I should have, too.” Stansfield put his hands on his hips and tried to focus on what was bothering him. He was missing something in the midst of this sea of facts—something that was right in front of him.
Kennedy knew him well enough to see what was going on, so she kept her mouth shut. Lewis wasn’t much of a talker, so he simply observed.
Stansfield turned the problem around and looked at it from the other side. Rapp had said it was a trap. How would you lure someone like Rapp into a trap? You offered him up a nice fat target like Tarek. But how would they know Tarek was on the list, and why would they be so willing to sacrifice him? Both questions bothered Stansfield, but in vastly different ways. “Rapp thinks we have a leak.”
“Yes.”
“How many people have seen the list?”
“The complete list,” Kennedy said. “As far as I know, you, Stan, myself, Rapp, and Ridley.”
“But there could be more?”
“There can always be more. You taught me that.”
