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“Maybe because you just consumed an entire day’s worth of calories, and enough fat, salt, and sugar to last you a week.”
Rapp knew she was right, but he turned to her and said, “Oh, was it ever delicious though.”
“You’re definitely going to regret it.”
Rapp looked down the road. Their house was coming up on the left. A sweat was forming on his forehead and upper lip. His stomach turned and he felt a little light-headed. He looked over at Anna and said, “I think I already am.”
39
A fter leaving the house, Gould drove up to Annapolis and ditched the ladder in an alley. Out on Riva Road he wiped down the handles of the propane tanks and left them behind a gas station. The rest of the stuff, with the exception of the two remaining gas cans, was thrown into a garbage bag and tossed in a Dumpster behind a grocery store. It was 10:23 when he got back to the hotel, and he was relieved to find Claudia packed and ready to go. Gould changed into his biking clothes and helped her go over the room one last time to make sure they’d wiped away any fingerprints. When they were done he used the express checkout function on the TV and they left the hotel through a side door.
Gould opened the back hatch of the rented Ford Explorer and lifted out his mountain bike. He set it in the pickup bed and asked Claudia, “Any questions?”
She looked like she might say something for a moment and then she simply shook her head.
“Go to Galesville and do a little shopping. Get some lunch if you want, but make sure you’ve got a signal on your phone at all times. As soon as I’m in position I’ll call.”
Claudia reached out and grabbed his face. “I know you’re worried about me, but you do not have to be. I want to be done with this more than you do.”
This was exactly what Gould wanted to hear. He put his hands on Claudia’s waist. “Good. Be ready to move in case I need you.” He kissed her on the lips and then whispered in her ear, “Let’s get through the next few hours, and then we’ll put it all behind us.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Gould held her for a long moment and then opened her car door. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
GOULD HAD MISSED the path that first night when they’d followed Rapp’s wife home, but when he and Claudia took their bikes by the house the next morning it jumped right out at him. There were no posted signs. He didn’t need to say anything to Claudia, she just followed him. As far as Gould could tell it wasn’t maintained by anyone. It was simply a dirt path, worn by use and use alone. They followed it for just under a mile through the woods until it split. The trail to the left led to a small public beach and to the right it joined up with a dirt road that ran along the edge of a small grass landing strip. Gould followed the dirt road until it hooked up with a county road and noted the spot on the map. On the way back he noted a few places where he could leave a vehicle.
He was now on that road, and so far his luck was holding. There wasn’t a soul around. Up ahead he spotted the big oak tree he’d seen the day before and he pulled the truck as far off the road as he could. Gould put on his backpack and helmet and took out the mountain bike. Right as he was about to get on the bike, the tracking device in his backpack beeped. Gould took the pack off and looked at the GPS locator. Rielly’s car was on the move. He clipped the device to one of the backpack’s shoulder straps with a carabiner and got on the bike. He wanted to be settled in well before they got there.
It took him only five minutes to bike through the woods, and then he continued past Rapp’s house for a few hundred yards and came back. He was fairly confident that no one was about, so when he got back to Rapp’s house he hopped off the bike and picked it up with his right hand. He stepped over the first bit of grass carefully and then had to duck under the leafy branches and twist around others. He did not have to go far to find decent concealment—maybe twenty feet. He set the bike down on its side and took off the backpack. He pulled out a camouflaged hunting poncho and the 9mm Glock. He screwed the silencer onto the end of the Glock and chambered a round. The underside of the backpack had a large pocket. Gould unzipped it and slid the pistol in, silencer first. He shouldered the backpack again and checked to make sure he could reach around and grab the weapon. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.
Gould opened his phone and punched in Claudia’s number. She answered on the first ring and he said, “They’re on their way.”
“Good. Is everything set?”
“Yes.”
“If you need me let me know.”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you in a little bit.” He hit the End button and switched the phone over to the silent mode.
Gould lay down flat and covered his upper body and most of the bike with the hunting poncho. Its muted green and brown pattern blended in perfectly with the surrounding foliage. The air felt heavy like it was going to rain, which would be welcome as long as it didn’t come too early. He needed the fire to destroy the majority of the evidence. After that the rain would help destroy it even further.
Gould was keenly aware of the GPS tracker and followed the progress of the vehicle closely. When they were two miles away, Gould turned the device off and picked up the handheld remote for the switch. It was a small black device similar in looks and size to the keyless door remotes sold with cars. Gould was careful not to press the button. He held the device gently in his right hand and focused on his breathing.
A short while later he heard a car approaching. He closed his eyes and listened intently. It had to be them. The noise grew and he looked to his left to get a glimpse of the vehicle but the woods were too thick. Gould held his position and waited. Patience was an integral part of any ambush. It would all be over in a minute as long as he held still. Rapp would walk in the house and he would die. No American would ever know he’d been here, and although they might suspect foul play, there would be no way to prove it. Rapp’s enemies were terrorists, men who were not known for their subtle skills. What terrorist would ever go to the effort to make Rapp’s death look like an accident? The answer was none. If it was a terrorist group, they would have driven a car bomb right through the front door and then called every media outlet available and taken credit for the death of Mitch Rapp. As much as they would hate the fact that their great counterterrorist operative had been killed by a gas explosion, a mere accident, the Americans would have no choice but to believe it, no matter the suspicions they harbored.
The car approached from the left and was almost even with his position when he got his first glimpse of it. The BMW slowed and then turned into the driveway. Gould caught a quick glimpse of Rapp’s profile, and the hair on his arms rose. He forced himself to stay put for a little longer. He watched the car as it came to a
stop in front of the garage and then rose up on one knee. Even though it was doubtful that Rapp would ever look in this direction, Gould was careful to keep most of his body behind a tree. The driver’s side door opened first. Rapp’s wife hopped out and Gould watched her with complete detachment. He’d already rationalized it away. She was well aware of who her husband was. She was what the Americans liked to call collateral damage. In the larger scope of the mission she was an acceptable loss. Gould had no doubt that Rapp would feel the same way if the roles were reversed.
Anna hurried around to the passenger side and opened the back door. She bent in and came out with a pair of crutches. The front door opened and a leg swung out. Gould tensed only slightly. Rapp grabbed the door frame and pulled himself from the car. The dog that had followed Gould around earlier came running up. They appeared to be more concerned with getting Rapp in the house than saying hello to the dog, so Gould couldn’t tell if the dog was theirs or the neighbors’. Gould noted that Rapp didn’t look very good. It was probably from the surgery. Rapp hopped on one leg, got the crutches right, and then the two of them started down the sidewalk. The dog followed them. They now had their backs to his position. Gould got to his feet and kept the poncho over his head and shoulders. He stayed in a crouch and began quietly working his way to the road. There were no other noises. No cars, only a few birds chirping.
He reached the edge of the woods as she slid the key into the door. Gould dropped the poncho and extended the small black handheld remote. He was ready to sprint across the street if the distance was too great. The door opened and she stepped in first. Rapp remained on the threshold for an excruciating second and then he followed her in. Gould pressed the remote and there was nothing. He pressed it again, and began walking across the road. He pointed the device toward the garage. Still nothing happened. Gould had reached the start of their driveway and he was about to press the button yet again when he realized they had left the car door open. He paused for a split second and realized Rielly would have to come back out and close the door. His thumb remained poised above the button. He heard Claudia’s words, asking him to not harm the wife. Gould swore to himself.
Straight ahead there was no cover, only the openness of the driveway and their front lawn. To the left there were trees and a few bushes. Gould broke into a sprint and started counting. He knew the house door could remain open for easily a minute if not longer, but he wasn’t going to wait anywhere near that long. He would give her ten seconds and that was all. When he reached the clump of light blue hydrangeas he was at five seconds and a good twenty feet closer to the house than where he’d tested it from this morning. It was then that Gould realized the weather had changed. The air was heavier. Instead of hiding behind the hydrangeas he started moving again and kept his eyes on the front door. At eight seconds he heard her voice from inside the house. His arm was still extended. When he finished his count he pressed the button. At exactly the same moment she appeared in the doorway. Gould swore that for the briefest of moments they made eye contact, and then the explosion tore through the still afternoon air. An orange fireball burst from the house, sending glass, splintered wood, and Rapp’s wife flying.
Gould dropped to a knee and buried his head between his arms. He wasn’t overly worried about the first explosion. It was the big propane tank that gave him the greatest concern, and he was right. The second explosion, far more violent than the first, let loose a concussive blast that hit Gould with a heat wave that knocked him from his crouched position to the ground. Debris rained down all around him and he struggled to get to his feet. His glasses and bike helmet were still on but knocked askew. He straightened them and noticed a stinging sensation on his left arm. He looked down to find the hair on his forearm gone and his skin turning a bright pink. His ears were ringing, and he felt a bit disoriented. He remembered there was one thing left that he had to do. He ignored the pain and took a step toward the BMW. He wanted to get the bug and tracking device from the vehicle. He didn’t make it more than a step. The vehicle was on fire. He hesitated for a second and a voice told him to get the hell out of there.
