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“Yes, sir. But I want you to know that doing so will involve some compromises.”
Taj’s expression turned suspicious. “What kind of compromises?”
“On the surface, his email address is administered through a server in Singapore, so I think we can be confident that he’s not a resident of that country. It’s simply a gateway. After the email arrives there, it would be forwarded all over the world in the span of only a few seconds, creating a trail that’s very difficult to follow.”
“But not impossible.”
“No, sir, not impossible. We’ll get closer with each file release. Eventually, it will lead us to—”
“Each file release? What are you saying, Kabir?”
“That we will have to continue sending the files per Rickman’s schedule.”
Taj stared silently at him for a few seconds. “It’s a dangerous game. We don’t know what is in those files and who the ultimate recipient will be.”
“I agree, sir, but I think that the risks are acceptable in light of the reward.”
“How many releases will have to be carried out before we find the man we’re looking for?”
“It’s impossible to say for certain, but our hope is no more than five. In the end, though, at least we know that each release will damage the CIA. So if it’s more than five—”
“The route to power isn’t through clumsy attacks on the CIA, Kabir. It’s through subverting the organization. Creating double agents, blackmailing informants and politicians. Turning an intelligence network they spent hundreds of billions to create against them.”
“Yes, sir. But chipping away at America’s ability to defend itself and the internal chaos that the releases will create is hardly an unattractive secondary strategy.”
Taj’s frown suggested that he was unwilling to accept anything but complete victory. “Then it’s your recommendation that we go forward with the scheduled release tomorrow and continue until we identify the man carrying them out?”
“Yes, sir. The death of President Chutani is less than a week away. Even if there were no hope of getting the encryption key, this would be the most prudent course of action. It will keep the CIA—and Mitch Rapp—focused elsewhere.”
Taj just nodded, unwilling to give his authorization aloud. It was clear that he was making Gadai entirely responsible. There would be no reward for success. It was expected. Failure, on the other hand, would be severely punished.
CHAPTER 34
THE FARM
OUTSIDE HARPERS FERRY
WEST VIRGINIA
U.S.A.
BLACK clouds blanketed the sky, producing heavy drops that roared against Irene Kennedy’s armored SUV. Her driver slowed further on the curving gravel road, leaning over the wheel to better see through the overwhelmed wipers. It seemed fitting somehow.
Kennedy stared out the window at the deluge but didn’t really register it. The Swiss authorities and Interpol were currently descending on what had been Leo Obrecht’s mansion, cataloging damage, identifying bodies, and collecting evidence. An army of European financial regulators had locked down his bank and were starting the process of unraveling what would likely become the largest and most sophisticated criminal financing operation in history.
Her people were quietly leaking fabricated evidence that would lead to the conclusion that Obrecht had gotten in over his head and provoked the wrath of Louis Gould. There were no guarantees, though. It was a mess of epic proportions. Just like Joe Rickman intended.
Her driver rolled to a stop alongside the farmhouse, getting as close as he could to the steps. The features of the man looking down from the covered porch were obscured by the rain, and for a brief moment Kennedy felt the breath catch in her chest. She allowed the fantasy to play at the edges of her mind for a moment, but she knew it wasn’t Stan Hurley. It never would be again.
Her door was pulled opened and she ducked beneath the umbrella held by her driver.
“Where’s Mitch?” she asked Mike Nash as he moved to open the door for her.
“No one knows.”
A flash of anger interrupted her grief, but she knew there was no point to it. Rapp would reappear when he wanted to. Not a moment before.
“What about . . .” Her voice lost its strength for a moment. “What about Stan?”
