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“You’ll be pleased to know he is getting the plane ready. As soon as we are done with our business we will be departing the country.”

“I am very happy to hear that. Thank you.”

“So,” Max said, looking at Cooke, “you have something for me.”

“Yes, I do, but I would like to see the money first.”

“Of course.” Max looked over his shoulder. “Samir, bring the money.”

“I assume mine will be wired as per my usual instructions,” Fournier said.

“Of course. My personal secretary will handle everything as soon as I make the call.”

“Good.”

Samir came back with a large briefcase and set it on the table between the two sofas. He popped the clasps and showed Cooke the money.

“One million dollars, and another million in a Swiss bank account,” Max said. “Now I need the information you promised.”

Cooke smiled and retrieved a folded envelope from his jacket pocket. “His name is Mitch Rapp. I have a photo in there. Known addresses. He has a mother who is terminally ill, but he has a brother who could be used as leverage.”

CHAPTER 48

RAPP and Hurley were parked four blocks away from the Hotel Balzac. Hurley was behind the wheel and Rapp in the front passenger seat. Rapp had seen Kennedy and Hurley argue more times than he could count, but he’d never seen anyone raise his voice with Stansfield, let alone argue with him as openly as Kennedy and Hurley had done. And to make the entire matter stranger, Hurley and Kennedy were for once in agreement. Stansfield was intent on coming with them to the Hotel Balzac, but Hurley had threatened to resign if his boss set foot outside the Embassy compound. There was a chance this could be nothing more than a simple surveillance mission, but it could also be something far more dangerous and complicated. Stansfield couldn’t be anywhere near it. It was bad enough that the damn deputy director of Central Intelligence was off screwing his country, they didn’t need to add to the list the deputy director of Operations getting arrested. Stanfield finally relented and gave Rapp and Hurley permission to go out without him.

They were both dressed in suits and ties and Rapp was carrying a new passport and credit card as well as the ID and gun he’d taken from the wounded DGSE agent.

Rapp had also put in blue contact lenses and added a goatee to try to match the general appearance of the DGSE agent. If anyone looked closely, he’d discover that Rapp was not the man in the photo, but if he needed to use it he wasn’t planning on anyone looking closely.

Ridley and his people were three blocks away on the other side of the hotel in a surveillance van. Rapp and Hurley were getting a live feed from the devices they’d planted on Cooke. The plan was to record everything that was said, allow Cooke to incriminate himself, and then quietly grab him when he was dropped off at his own hotel.

Cooke and Fournier took a long lunch, so Rapp and Hurley were in position by the time they arrived at the Hotel Balzac. They’d heard the conversation outside the restaurant and now they were listening to the introductions inside the room. Rapp was taking everything in stride until he heard his name. He and Hurley looked at each other at the exact same time while they heard Cooke saying, “He attended the University of Syracuse and was recruited by Irene Kennedy. She happens to be a very close confidante of Thomas Stansfield and is someone else you could consider for leverage.”

“Motherfucker!” Hurley yelled.

Rapp was already beyond that. He was imagining each person in the room. Cooke was a traitor, Fournier was a backstabbing snake, and based on the information and names provided by Monsignor de Fleury, Kennedy had identified the other two. Samir Fadi wa

s a midlevel lieutenant from Islamic Jihad, and he was more than likely the prick who had shot Rapp in the shoulder. The second man was far more high-profile. Max Vega was a wealthy Spanish businessman with a radical Saudi father. Over the past several years he had become a key player in funding the various radical Muslim groups. Rapp had known about him because he was the next name on the list of authorized targets.

The decision was easy for Rapp. He grabbed the door handle and said, “Stan, you can shoot me if you want, but I’m going in there. I’m as good as dead if I don’t kill every last one of those fuckers right now.”

Hurley didn’t move or say anything for what seemed like an eternity, and then he put the car into drive and said, “There’s a side entrance for the employees and deliveries on Rue Lord Byron.”

“I know where it is.”

“There’s a staircase almost immediately on your left. They’re on the top floor. I suggest you leave the money. It’ll make it look dirtier.”

“Good idea.”

Twenty seconds later they passed the front entrance. Five seconds after that Hurley stopped in front of the service entrance.

Rapp opened the door and said, “Thanks, Stan. I really appreciate this.”

“No worries. Just don’t get killed and don’t leave any fingerprints.”

“I never do.”

“And just so you know, I never liked Thomas’s plan. Our job is to kill these assholes, not try to turn them.”

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