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Rapp grinned. “That’s all right, sir. I didn’t exactly get into this line of work for accolades and recognition.”
“I know you didn’t, but I just wish there was a better way to repay you and properly show our gratitude.”
“Just let me be the one to punch Aziz’s ticket, and that’ll be payment enough.”
“I plan on it. Which brings me to my next point.” Hayes looked away from Rapp for a second and focused on the others. “I want every intelligence asset we can spare focusing on tracking down Aziz. Call in every marker we have. As I said a second ago, we are not going to play by the rules on this one. I want him caught.” Hayes turned back to Rapp. “I want you to go home, and I want you to get some rest.” The president began to walk Rapp toward the door. “If we find him, I want you fresh.”
“Yes, sir.” Rapp shook the president’s hand and left the room. He walked out onto the front stoop of Blair House. Bringing his hand up over his eyes, he shielded them from the light and searched the crowd. Nothing. He turned to his right and left but came up empty again.
“Can I help you find something, Mr. Kruse?”
Rapp looked down. Directly in front of him, leaning against the president’s limo, was the beautiful Anna Rielly.
Rapp walked down the steps and said, “I thought you’d be hustling off to your station to break the story.”
Rielly pushed herself away from the limo. With a grin she said, “I have some time.” Reaching her hand out, she added, “Besides, I wanted to say good-bye.” She grabbed Rapp’s hand and squeezed it tight. Pointing down the street, she said, “Why don’t you walk me down to the corner so I can catch a cab.”
“Sure.” The two of them started walking toward Seventeenth Street hand in hand.
Rielly leaned away from him and asked, “So, are you ever going to tell me your real name?”
“Maybe.” Rapp took a couple more steps and smiled. “Someday after you earn my trust.”
They walked in silence for a while, and then Rielly asked, “So about this life story of yours, when am I going to get a chance to hear it?”
“Whenever you want.”
“I’d imagine you’re going to be pretty busy for a while.”
“Who knows.” They reached the corner and stopped. “I’m thinking of taking some time off.”
“Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
Rielly studied him for a second. “You don’t seem like the type of person-that takes time off.”
Rapp shrugged his shoulders. “You’d be surprised.”
“I think there are probably a lot of things about you that might surprise me.”
Rapp shook his head. “I doubt it. I’m pretty boring when it comes down to it.”
Rielly looked down at their hands and rubbed her thumb along his finger. Peeking up at him, she said, “We need to set our dinner date.”
Her thumb rubbing up and down on his finger made his heart race. “Any time you can fit me into your schedule.”
“How about sometime next week.”
“I was thinking about something a little earlier.”
Rielly looked up with her green eyes, a soft smile spreading across her face. Rapp reached down and grabbed her chin. Pulling his mouth to hers, he kissed her and said, “How about tonight?”
Epilogue
THE OLD MAN shuffled down the busy street. It was almost midnight, and the crowds were thinning. He picked his way through the people, his posture hunched, his eyes scanning their faces. He wore a pair of dirty, cracked tennis shoes, and his jeans were several inches too short. Matted clumps of dirty gray and black hair adorned his head and a film of dirt covered every inch of exposed skin. In some cities he might have stood out, but not in Sao Paulo, Brazil. With over twenty million people, five million of whom lived in utter poverty, he was just another lost soul.
He stepped past a fellow homeless person who had curled up in a storefront doorway for the night. He was in Bom Retiro, the ethnic enclave of the massive city that was home to almost a million Palestinian, Lebanese, Iranian, and Arab immigrants. His arrival in this city, of all the cities in the world, was a feat in and of itself. It had been prompted by one small piece of information.
