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“I’m putting a report together right now. I want to make sure I’ve drawn the right conclusions before I give my final recommendation, but in the meantime, I would argue very strongly that you keep Stan and Victor away from Rapp. Let Irene bring him in and she and I can handle the debriefing.”
Stansfield considered that for a moment and then nodded.
“I’ll need you to order Stan to stay away from Mitch. And there can be no doubt in Stan’s mind that you want your orders followed to the letter.”
“Does this have anything to do with Rapp’s suspicion that we have a leak?” Stansfield asked.
“Possibly, but my bigger concern is that we need to avoid a confrontation right now, and I think we can all agree that Stan and Victor enjoy confrontation.”
Stansfield came back to the couch and sat. “You’re worried about Mitch?”
Since receiving the call from Kennedy, Lewis had been trying to figure out the best way to phrase his thoughts without alarming Stansfield to the extent that he might do something rash. He placed his hands in his lap and said, “Rapp is a unique individual . . . extremely effective. When you look at what he’s done this past year, I think we would be foolish to question his loyalty. But . . . I think certain resentments have built up.”
“With Stan?”
“Yes . . . and others. He has become our wonder boy. We have turned him loose to great effect, and up until now, he’s given us amazing results. Stan doesn’t appreciate what he’s done and Victor seems to hate him for the sake of hating him. As you well know, Stan has control issues, and he doesn’t like the fact that Irene and Mitch have been allowed to operate outside his direct authority. He was very quick to blame Mitch for what went wrong in Paris, and he did so without any evidence. Now it looks as if none of this can be laid at Mitch’s feet. In fact, it’s quite amazing that he managed to eliminate the target and get away.”
Stansfield nodded. “Hearing this new information, I see your point.”
“Rapp said something to Irene on the phone this morning that I think is very telling. I’m paraphrasing, but he said something to the effect of, ‘I’m glad you desk jockeys have it all figured out. I can just hear your uncle second-guessing every move I made even though he has no idea what went down.’ That is a statement filled with resentment.”
“Toward Stan?”
“Yes and possibly others. I’m sure you remember how it was at certain points in your career. We have all been there . . . thousands of miles away, feeling isolated and abandoned by bosses who issue orders without the foggiest idea what the situation on the ground is actually like.”
Stansfield could recall many such instances. “So I send Irene over to bring him in, I keep him away from Stan, and then we sit down and sort the rest of this out.”
“Basically, but I do have to bring up a concern. I have a good handle on Rapp’s psyche. He’s far less complicated than you would think. He’s very linear. He has it in his mind right now that someone in our group has betrayed him and almost got him killed. It is my estimate that he will not stop until he finds who that person is, and when he does, he will kill him.”
Stansfield considered this for a moment and then asked, “Even if I order him to stand down?”
“He has a great deal of respect for you. If you can convince him that you are going to deal with this person, he might stand down, but he is going to want proof that the problem has been dealt with.”
Stansfield nodded, turned to Kennedy, and said, “Bring him in. I’ll call off Stan, and then we are all going to sit down, and I am going to put an end to all of this infighting. From now on when I give an order I expect it to be carried out and anyone who can’t abide by that will no longer be a part of this team.”
Lewis and Kennedy shared a quick look and then nodded.
“I mean it,” Stansfield, said obviously tired of the squabbling, “and trust me, I’m well aware that I have a blind spot where Stan is concerned.” The two men had a long history that stretched from Berlin to Budapest to Moscow and the Middle East and beyond. Stansfield shook his head in disgust over his mistakes. “This crap is going to end and it’s going to end right now.”
“Yes, sir.” Kennedy stood and thanked him for his time. “Is it okay if we do Ridley’s debriefing in Paris?”
“Fine. Just make sure the location is locked down and secure.”
“I will. Thank you. We’ll give you an update as soon as we’re on the ground.”
Stansfield watched them go. He wasn’t sure they understood how precarious things had become. If they had a leak it needed to be stopped before they were all hauled before a congressional committee and eventually to jail. They had the right of it about Rapp. That was for certain. Stansfield had always understood the risk of ordering a talented, highly motivated man to kill for his country. The cold, detached killers were easier to predict. Rapp, though, was far from dispassionate about his job. He couldn’t kill these men fast enough. It was his hatred for terrorists that drove him to kill with such efficiency. How would he react if he was pulled in and shut down? Not well, was Stansfield’s guess. How would he react if he found out someone at Langley was selling their secrets to their enemies? By definition, that individual would be a traitor, and Stansfield had little doubt what Rapp would want to do to such a person.
CHAPTER 24
PARIS, FRANCE
THE plates had been fairly easy to find. There was a big underground car park a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower. Rapp went to the third subfloor and found a sedan in a nice dark corner. He quickly unscrewed the front and rear plates and then headed for the fourth subfloor. The private vehicle plates started with a string of four numbers followed by two letters and then two numbers. It took him a few minutes to find a vehicle that had plates that matched the first two numbers. Most people didn’t know their tag number, but as a precaution, it was better to get the first number or two right. People tended to ignore what looked familiar. He popped the plates off and then quickly installed the plates he’d taken from the first car. It was standard tradecraft.
The owner of the first car would soon notice that his plates had been lifted because there would be a blank space where he was accustomed to seeing a plate. He would then report them stolen. Paris was a big city with serious crime. Stolen license plates were not high on the list of things to track down, but nonetheless, Rapp wanted some separation in case luck turned against him. It might be months before the man or woman who owned the second car was pulled over for having stolen plates. He or she would then realize that the plates were stolen and report them as such. By then, Rapp and Greta would be long gone. Greta’s silver A4 Audi was not the problem. It was the Swiss plates that drew too much attention. If they had to flee, they didn’t need an innocent bystander giving her license tag to a police officer, and they certainly didn’t want Hurley to see them.
Rapp arrived back at the hotel with his shoulder feeling marginally better and his mind satisfied that they were ready for tonight. Greta was waiting for him in the room and looking a bit nervous despite her effort to seem otherwise. She wanted to know what had taken so long, and he told her about the license plates and a few other seemingly meaningless tasks that he’d performed. Before she got on a roll he turned the tables and started asking her questions about her afternoon. While he listened, he emptied the contents of one of his shopping bags onto the bed. There was a sewing kit, a pair of jeans, a new jacket, and some other items. Rapp laid the jeans on the bed and retrieved his sile
nced Glock from the back of his waistband. Greta stopped talking at the sight of the gun. Rapp placed it over the left thigh of the jeans, grabbed a marker, and began to make an outline.
