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She took her eyes off the building. “But I don’t understand why you wouldn’t come with me.”
“We’re not going to argue about this,” Rapp said in a firm tone. “I need to know you’re going to do exactly what I want you to do when I ask you. Your safety is my first priority. If you’re not willing to do what I ask you to do, then you might as well leave right now.”
Greta shook her head and frowned. Taking orders was not her strong suit.
Rapp turned his eyes back to the van. Kennedy had told him they had the safe house under surveillance. The guys were either asleep in the van or they had men inside the apartment. If that was the case, Rapp expected to see some lights come on any second. Luke would be in for one hell of a surprise and likely a two- or three-day debriefing where he would literally have the shit scared out of him. Rapp didn’t feel good about it, but Luke would survive. His story would check out because Rapp planned on calling Kennedy and telling her what he’d done. They would be pissed that he had exposed a safe house by giving the keys and codes to a drug dealer. Rapp’s defense would remain consistent. Someone on their end had betrayed him. He’d been set up, and until he knew who he could trust they would have to excuse his paranoia.
Rapp checked his watch. Luke had gone through the front door nearly forty seconds ago. He looked down the length of the street at the Mercedes van and he finally saw some movement. The van rocked and then a moment later someone was moving up the sidewalk in a hurry. He was crouched down and running. Rapp caught glimpses of the man as he passed in between cars, and then as he drew closer he got a more consistent view.
It was Victor. Even in the poor light of the hazy street lamps he was easy to make out. He was half man, half gorilla, lumbering down the street as if he might run through a brick wall if he needed to. Rapp didn’t like Hurley, but he respected the salty bastard. Victor was another matter. Rapp loathed him, couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been drummed out, and spent a fair amount of time analyzing all the different ways he’d kill him if he was ever given the chance.
Rapp watched him hug the building as he got closer to the front door. The building across the street was a near mirror image of this one. There was a garden level on the main floor and each unit had its own entrance and a small patio that was four feet beneath the sidewalk and fenced off by a black wrought-iron fence and gate. The first floor was elevated above the sidewalk by eight feet, so the front steps were fairly steep and led to a pair of double doors. Victor positioned himself exactly where Rapp expected. He sank into the shadows beside the front stoop. Rapp squinted but it did no good. Victor was dressed in black. He was a shadow among shadows.
Rapp checked the lights in the apartment. They were still off. He looked at his watch. Luke had been in the apartment for close to two minutes. Rapp had timed it in his head. If he did exactly as Rapp ordered, he could be in and out in less than five minutes. Something told Rapp, though, that Luke might take a little extra time to see what else he could take.
“Who is that man?” Greta asked.
“The one I warned you about . . . Victor.”
Things settled into a slow pattern as Rapp continued to check the van, Victor’s position, and the apartment windows. For four minutes and twenty-seven seconds nothing happened, and then suddenly the moment was upon them. The front door of the apartment building opened and Luke stepped into the night air. He hustled down the steps and turned to the right just as Rapp had instructed. Victor suddenly materialized from the shadows and fell in behind Luke, just four steps behind him. His right hand came up and Rapp immediately recognized the length of black steel in his hand as a pistol with a suppressor attached to the end.
Rapp shook his head and under his breath mumbled, “What a prick.”
What happened next was completely unexpected. There was a muzzle flash followe
d by Luke’s entire body being propelled forward for one more step. Then he crashed to the sidewalk face-first.
Greta gasped and covered her mouth.
Rapp blinked just once and reached for his gun. In that split second he realized he had just witnessed what was supposed to be his own murder, and a second after that he realized he had caused the death of a completely innocent man. The realization filled him with embarrassment and rage and the absolute conviction that he would kill Victor.
CHAPTER 34
BRAMBLE had already scoped out the spot. That was the way his brain worked. He was a hunter, a natural-born killer, and a badass to boot, which was why Rapp didn’t stand a chance. Rapp was a college puke who hesitated. A pussy who’d been indoctrinated into the world of political correctness. His brain was filled with too much crap. Stuff that got in the way of millions of years of predatory evolution. It was his loss and Bramble’s gain. Rapp was probably the kind of guy who puked after he killed someone. Bramble had once watched a fellow Ranger do that after a mission. He’d never lost so much respect for someone so quickly.
The alcove next to the front steps was the perfect spot. Bramble’s heart was racing and he knew it wasn’t from the short run up the block. It was the anticipation of the kill. The adrenaline that was coursing through his veins. It was an amateur reaction and he chided himself for it. He forced himself to take deep, steady breaths. There was nothing to be tense about. His position was ideal. He was completely concealed by darkness and he was in a textbook spot to ambush Rapp when he came back out. His heart began to slow and then he realized he had a problem.
Two actually. What would he do with McGuirk and Borneman? They were about to watch him kill Rapp, and while he could easily explain to them that Hurley had given him the kill order, the problems would pop up later, when they got back to the States. They would all be debriefed and Kennedy would lose her mind when she found out that he’d killed her baby. Even Hurley might take it badly. He despised Rapp, but he wouldn’t take kindly to one of his men initiating a kill order on his own, especially after having been told to stand down. Bramble was scrambling to come up with an out when McGuirk’s voice came over his earpiece.
“He’s going for the safe.”
Of course he is, Bramble thought, and then he remembered an order Hurley had given him. He panicked and asked, “Did you guys empty the safe?”
“Why would we do that?” McGuirk replied.
“Because I told you to,” Bramble snapped.
“The hell you did. Todd, did Victor tell us to clean out the safe?”
Bramble listened to the one-sided conversation and then McGuirk told him he must be sniffing glue. “You never told us to empty the safe.”
Bramble swore to himself, looked back down the street at the van, and asked, “What’s he doing?”
“He’s got the safe open, and it looks like he’s emptying it.”
Hurley was going to freak. It was the first thing he’d told him to do. “Clean out the safe and don’t get any stupid ideas. Kennedy and I have an exact accounting of what’s inside,” he’d said.
“He’s closing the safe,” McGuirk announced. “It looks like he’s stuffing a bag down the front of his pants.”
