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“Fuck,” Hurley growled. He didn’t like where this was headed.
“I told Jim I wanted this floor locked down,” Stansfield said. “Victor is to be treated as a potential hostile until I say otherwise. I don’t trust anyone in that room with him other than you. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah. You don’t want him breaking some desk jockey’s neck.”
“Exactly. He’s your creation. Do you think you can still handle him?”
Hurley nodded. “If it turns out he’s been lying about all of this, I’ll snap his fucking neck.”
CHAPTER 44
RAPP hated meets like this. Even when he had the significant resources of the CIA behind him, there was always the unknown, the possibility that someone might go back on his word and kill you. He’d finally gotten to a place where he could trust Kennedy and now Stansfield had been thrown in the mix. Rapp said no when she first told him the deputy director was coming along. Stansfield had bodyguards, and God only knew how many assets the French would have on him. Kennedy told him they had contingencies to deal with all of that. Rapp still didn’t like it and was about to call the whole thing off when Greta talked him down.
“I have known him since I was a little child. He is one of my grandfather’s closest friends. If there is anyone I can trust it is him.”
They were moving from pay phone to pay phone in Greta’s car, running Kennedy through some hoops to make sure they weren’t being tailed or driving into an entourage of vehicles filled with heavily armed men. Rapp had Kennedy give him the description of the car they were driving, and twice in thirty minutes Kennedy had passed within thirty feet of where he was standing. He couldn’t see the backseat, and obviously had no idea if someone was in the trunk, but it was undeniable that Thomas Stansfield was in the front passenger seat.
After an hour of running them around town, he was ready. He’d purchased two very expensive mobile phones and was saving them. The second-to-last waypoint was someplace he and Kennedy had visited together. It was the final resting place of the Irish playwright Samuel Beckett, the unjustly accused French Army officer Alfred Dreyfus, and many other notables. Kennedy had read several books about the miscarriage of justice that had been heaped upon Dreyfus and the national scandal that eventually followed. Rapp had known nothing about the Dreyfus Affair, as it became known, but the previous winter they had stood in front of his grave for nearly thirty minutes while Kennedy explained the tragedy and the national crisis that had resulted from the false conviction and imprisonment of Dreyfus.
Rapp called her cell from a pay phone and said, “We’re getting close. Remember the French Army officer we visited ten months ago?”
“The Jewish one?”
“That’s right. Head there and await my next call.” Rapp placed the phone back in the cradle and walked back to the car. He climbed behind the wheel and said to Greta, “It’s not too late to back out.”
She didn’t bother looking at him. She simply said, “Shut up. I told you to stop saying that. Thomas Stansfield would never harm me.”
“He’s not the one I worry about. It’s Hurley and the guy we saw last night. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”
“I have a hard time believing Stan is as bad as you say. He has always been kind to me.”
“Well, he must like blondes, because he’s been nothing but a prick to me.” Rapp drove for a few minutes, maneuvering through the narrow streets. He parked the vehicle a block from the meeting place, and he and Greta got out. He kissed her and said, “You have your gun?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be afraid to use it.”
“You worry too much.” She kissed him back and then headed off.
Rapp watched her walk away and then found his pay phone. He’d timed how long it would take Kennedy to get from the cemetery to the final meeting place. Rapp placed the call and stayed on the phone with her, telling her each turn he wanted her to make. He saw her turn onto Boulevard Raspail, two blocks away from his position. Rapp told her to park the car and get out. From his concealed position he saw Kennedy and Stansfield get out of the car. “There’s an alley about a hundred feet ahead on your right. Take it and stop at the fourth door on your left.” Rapp hung up the pay phone and fished out his first cell phone. He checked his watch and then headed around the block in the opposite direction. Thirty seconds later he punched Kennedy’s number into the cell phone. She answered on the second ring.
“We’re at the door.”
“Good. I disabled the lock. Here’s what I want you to do.” Rapp walked her through the next move, which was pretty easy.
“All right,” Kennedy said after following his instructions, “I’m on the second floor. What next?”
“Head all the way down the hallway. Last door on your right, it’s unlocked.” Rapp entered the alley from the opposite end and continued to the back door. He checked one last time to make sure no one was following him and then went into the building. Quietly he began to climb the stairs two at a time.
“I’m in front of the door. I assume you want us to enter.”
“I said the door was unlocked. Knock twice and enter, and if either of you is carrying you’d better not have them out, or I’ll blow your heads off.” Rapp stopped halfway up the second run of stairs and edged his head up above the last tread. He got a glimpse of Kennedy and Stansfield. Neither was holding a gun. They walked into the apartment with Stansfield leading the way.
“Head into the living room and take a left,” Rapp said. “Go to the window, put the phone on speaker, and tell me what you see.”
A few seconds passed and Kennedy said, “You know what I see.”
Rapp moved quickly down the hallway. “You’re both standing where I was standing last night.” Rapp reached the door and moved past to check the front stairwell. It was clear. “I didn’t trust Stan, so I found someone who fit my general description and I sent him to the apartment to retrieve something . . . I wanted to see how rough Stan would be with him. I watched that asshole Victor leave the van and hide on the right side of the stoop, and when a completely innocent man left the apartment he came up behind him and shot him in the back of the head. He thought he was killing me.” Rapp slowly turned the knob and slid through Bob and Tibby McMahon’s apartment door without making a noise. He silently closed and locked the door. He moved quietly down the hall with his silenced gun ready, and turned the corner. Kennedy and Stansfield were standing exactly where he’d expected them to be. Rapp pressed the End button on the cell phone, slid it into his pocket, and said, “What I want to know is, who gave him the kill order?”
