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He tried to spit on Rapp but didn’t have the strength and ended up just drooling down his cheek.
“Link’s up, Mitch.”
“Irene, can you hear me?”
“Barely,” came the crackling response over the computer’s speakers. “What’s your situation?”
Rapp grabbed the man by the bulletproof vest and dragged him toward the webcam above the monitor. The pain from his damaged chest stopped his breathing again, leaving him silently opening and closing his mouth as he struggled not to asphyxiate.
“Can you see?” Rapp said. “Get a screenshot and run his face through our computers.”
Kennedy’s image was badly pixelated by the weather’s effect on the sat link but he could see her shake her head.
“I don’t have to, Mitch. That’s Kabir Gadai. Ahmed Taj’s personal assistant.”
Rapp let the man go and he collapsed to the floor next to Pavel Katdsyn.
“Do you have the encryption key?” Kennedy asked.
“Yeah, but I’m not the only one. Gadai emailed it out before I could get to him.”
There was a long pause before she responded. “Then you’re saying Taj has access to the files?”
“All two hundred and three of them.”
“That many?”
She raised her hands to her temples, rubbing them in slow circles as the image broke up.
“Marcus. Send her the files and the encryption key.”
At least now they wouldn’t have to guess. She could start damage control and try to get ahead of the ISI. Not that it was likely to do much good. A little like putting a Band-Aid on a severed limb.
“We’ve . . . We’ve won,” Gadai said weakly. “The ISI will dominate the world intelligence community for the next half century. And it was all made possible by your work and your dollars.”
Rapp wanted nothing more than to leap into the air and land with both feet on the man’s broken sternum, but he held back.
“God rewards His servants,” Gadai continued. “And He punishes His enemies.”
Rapp stepped back and looked down at the man, finding him willing—maybe even anxious—to lock eyes.
Everyone had a weakness. For some it was intolerance to pain. Others had a faith that was less unshakable than they imagined. Gadai’s was suddenly clear: arrogance. Despite the agony speaking must have caused, he continued to gloat. To demonstrate his superiority. Deep down, he wanted to talk. He wanted the Americans around him to know how thoroughly and easily they’d been beaten.
“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” Rapp said. “We have access to the files now and Taj doesn’t know it. We’ll pull in the people we need to and the others we’ll watch. We’ll tie the ISI up in so many knots you won’t trust your own mothers.”
“You’re a fool,” Gadai gasped. “When I don’t come back, Taj will assume you have the information. We’ve outsmarted you at every turn and he will continue to do so.”
Rapp glanced up at Kennedy and she gave a slight nod, indicating that she’d heard. Gadai had just unwittingly confirmed that Taj was behind this.
“The CIA’s network will be destroyed and after tomorrow night, there will be nothing you can do about it,” Gadai continued. “Run. Both of you. Before your own politicians set out to destroy you.”
Rapp smiled and pressed his foot down on Gadai’s damaged chest. Not hard, but enough to silence the man. “Tomorrow night. What happens tomorrow night?”
The surprise on the Pakistani’s face was easy to read. He realized he’d said too much.
The door downstairs opened again, followed by the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. Dumond retreated against the wall as Rapp aimed his pistol toward the landing. He lowered it when Scott Coleman appeared.
“Where do we stand?” Rapp asked.
