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Rapp hit him across the cheek with his silencer. “Did you give it to him?”
“Yes! Yes, I gave it to him. I had no choice.”
The door opened on the ground floor and Rapp heard footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Marcus Dumond appeared. His hair was dusted with snow and he was shaking a bit, but otherwise he didn’t look much worse for the wear. Spotting the computer, he went directly for it, kneeling in front of the keyboard and ripping off his mittens.
“Katdsyn says he gave up the encryption key,” Rapp said.
“Yeah, I see it here. And there’s a thumb drive. Looks like Rickman’s files are on it.”
“How many?” Rapp said, leaning over the younger man’s shoulder.
“Two hundred and three.”
Rapp let out a long breath. The number was higher even than the worst-case scenario he and Kennedy had come up with.
“Let’s see if it works,” Dumond said.
He chose a file at random and was prompted for a password. A moment later, Rapp was reading a detailed account of a series of assassinations that had taken place in the UAE without the local government’s knowledge. He himself had pulled the trigger on two of them and as near as he could tell all the information was accurate.
“Did he send it anywhere?”
“Sorry, Mitch. The key went out a couple of minutes ago via email.”
“Can you intercept it?”
“No way. It’s gone.”
Rapp swore under his breath. “Where?”
“A Gmail account. There’s no way to know who it belongs to. I doubt even Google does.”
There was a quiet chime from the computer and Dumond leaned into the screen. “Hold on, we’ve got a response.”
“What’s it say?”
“Key received and fully functional. Well done. Destroy everything.”
Rapp stepped back and stared out the window at the storm. Two hundred and three files. Ops, agents, informants, and God knew what else. Endless scenarios were churning through his mind, each one more catastrophic than the last.
“Do you want me to reply?” Dumond said.
“Just say ‘understood.’?”
Dumond typed the word while Rapp went to the man on the floor and rolled him onto his back. He was breathing, but in shallow gulps that barely provided enough oxygen to keep him conscious.
“Who did you send it to?”
The Pakistani actually managed a strangled laugh. “The CIA is done,” he gasped. “We have your entire network.”
It wasn’t bravado, Rapp knew. The Rickman files would contain enough fodder for years of grandstanding hearings by the self-serving political hacks back home. They would portray the Agency as being completely out of control and, now with its network compromised, completely useless.
“Marcus. Can you get me a secure video link to Irene?”
“Yeah.”
“Do it.”
Rapp knelt next to the man on the floor. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Who did you send that email to?”
