AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The driver nodded his head slowly. “Good,” Rapp replied. With his left hand, he took the cash he’d held and stuck it in front of the man’s face. “Take it. We are not going to Essen. You’re taking me to Frankfurt.”
After taking the money, the cab driver nodded slowly, and Rapp pulled the gun back an inch, allowing the man to straighten his head. Rapp checked the driver’s credentials on the glove box. His name was Geoffrey Herman.
“Geoffrey, you’re going too slow. Speed it up, and keep your eyes on the road.” Rapp watched the speedometer and asked, “Ever had this happen before?”
The driver nodded his head and croaked his reply through a pair of parched lips.
This was a good development. The man had walked through the desert and survived. “Well, I can promise you this. If you do everything I say, nothing will happen to you. I will get out of your cab, and you will have made a lot of money for driving someone to Frankfurt. If you try anything funny, you’re dead. That’s our deal. No negotiating.”
Geoffrey nodded enthusiastically, but he was still obviously terrified. Rapp knew he had to calm him down so they wouldn’t get into an accident. “Why don’t you have a cigarette and relax? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
The driver nervously fished for his smokes and lit one up. Now came the interesting part for Rapp. He had a little more than two hours to cultivate a bond with this man. Mitch didn’t like to kill people, and he would do everything possible to avoid having to off this poor sap. There was nothing Geoffrey could give the police that they couldn’t get off the surveillance tapes at the airport. The only reason to kill him would be to buy more time, and Rapp hoped to do that in another way.
“Where are you from, Geoffrey?”
“Hamburg.”
“What brought you to Hanover?”
Still a little nervous, he replied flatly, “I didn’t like Hamburg.”
The conversation got better over the next hour and a half. As Rapp probed, the driver loosened up. He was getting a good pictur
e of who Geoffrey Herman was. They passed several police cruisers parked on the side of the autobahn. Each time, Rapp watched Geoffrey to make sure he did nothing to alert them. The driver kept his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes straight ahead. Rapp learned that Geoffrey was divorced and lived alone. He owned the cab, and he liked working nights. It allowed him to enjoy his days and do as he pleased. He was also a recovered alcoholic, and he reasoned that it helped keep him out of the bars in the evenings. The most important thing Rapp learned was that Geoffrey Herman was a convicted felon. He had spent two years in prison for robbery and had no love for the law. Rapp couldn’t have been happier with the news.
It was almost two in the morning when Geoffrey announced that he should call his dispatcher. He had told her he would check in after he dropped his fare off in Essen. Rapp thought about it momentarily and asked, “Do you have to go back to the airport, or are you done for the night?”
“I’m done when I want to be done. I own the cab.”
Geoffrey should not have offered that piece of information so freely, Rapp thought. “Would it be unusual for you to call it a night at this time?”
“Not at all. You were my last fare of the night.”
Rapp took a second to think it over and said, “Go ahead and call in. Tell them everything went well, and you’re going to call it a night.”
Rapp watched Geoffrey dial the number on his cell phone and leaned forward to listen to the conversation. The female dispatcher sounded genuinely tired and disinterested. The call lasted no more than ten seconds. After they said goodbye, Rapp took the phone and turned it off. Watching Geoffrey’s face closely, he asked, “Was that your normal dispatcher?”
Without hesitation, he nodded yes. “Her name is Sheila. I’ve worked with her for five years.”
Sinking back into the seat, Rapp breathed a sigh of relief. The BKA had yet to pick up his trail. If they had, they would have tried to keep Geoffrey on the phone. Rapp looked at the map on his lap and thought now might be one of those times he could push it. “Geoffrey, have you spent much time in southern Germany?”
Irene Kennedy awoke to strange sounds that could only be coming from one thing: cartoons. This had become a Saturday morning ritual. Young Thomas, or Tommy, as he was called by most of his peers, was six. The days of him calling for her when he woke up were gone. In a strange way, she missed it. He was always at his best in the morning, affectionate and cuddly. She preferred the extra hour of sleep on Saturdays, but every once in a while, she wouldn’t mind having to get out of bed and rub his back and kiss him until he was ready to get out from under the covers. He was too old for that stuff now, he had told her. He had an independent streak that no doubt had come from Kennedy herself.
She sat up in bed and swung her feet onto the floor. The bedside clock told her it was 7:58. Kennedy was simple in most regards. Her pajamas for as long as she could remember were either flannel pants or boxers and whatever large T-shirt happened to be available. She was thin, maybe too thin. It wasn’t intentional; she just wasn’t a big eater.
In the bathroom, she turned on the water and pulled her straight brown hair into a ponytail. After scrubbing her face with a washcloth and soap for a good three minutes, she brushed her teeth and went down the hall to find Tommy right where she thought he’d be—sitting four feet in front of the TV in his pajamas, completely entranced by the Power Rangers blowing buildings apart. Kennedy walked around the couch and kissed the top of his head.
“Good morning, honey.”
Tommy mumbled something that his mother couldn’t quite understand and kept his eyes focused on the screen. Kennedy rubbed his head, picked up his empty cereal bowl, and headed into the kitchen. On her way past the table, she grabbed the milk and put it back in the fridge. After placing her son’s bowl and spoon in the sink, she started the coffee maker and grabbed a banana.
As she leaned against the counter, her thoughts turned to Rapp. The anonymous tip to the German authorities about the freighter had gone as planned. For good measure, they had also alerted the media. That way, the BKA wouldn’t be able to downplay the story. As far as what had happened with Hagenmiller, Kennedy was in the dark. The Counterterrorism Center had the ability to monitor events from afar, and with the help of the Global Operations Center, there wasn’t a news story that could break without them being informed in fifteen minutes or less. The problem with this particular story was that Kennedy had to play dumb. She couldn’t let even her closest people in the CT know that she had any idea that Hagenmiller was going to be taken out.
Kennedy finished the banana and told Tommy to turn off the TV and get dressed. He reluctantly obeyed, and fifteen minutes later they were out the door—Kennedy with two cups of coffee and Tommy with his football and rubber Godzilla. Waiting for them in the driveway was a dark blue Ford Crown Victoria with their driver, Harry Peterson, from the Agency’s Office of Security. Irene and Tommy got in the back seat and said good morning. Kennedy handed Harry the fresh cup of coffee, and they were on their way.
Kennedy had resisted getting a driver. She lived less than ten minutes from Langley and at first saw it as an intrusion into her private life. Unfortunately, though, the previous summer the Washington Post had done a profile on her titled “The Most Powerful Woman in the CIA.” Kennedy had not cooperated with the interview, and the president himself had asked them not to pursue the story. But the Post went ahead and did it anyway. She wanted nothing to do with the limelight, and more directly she wanted the people she was hunting to know as little about her as possible.
The fallout from the story was predictable. The threats started to roll in. Thomas Stansfield moved decisively. He ordered a security system for Kennedy’s home and gave her a driver. The CIA monitored the security system, and at least once a night, a CIA security team would drive by the house and check things out. Kennedy was also given a pager with a panic button. She was ordered to have it on, or next to her, twenty-four hours a day.
