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There was little choice. His immediate survival and eventual success depended entirely on the mullah’s trust.
“Do you see that man, Director? Should we get out?”
“Let’s wait a moment,” he said, pulling a Browning pistol from its holster. The two men in the front seats had been with him for years and had fulfilled their duties impeccably. It was a shame that their service had to come to an end.
He lifted the weapon and fired in quick succession, putting a single round into each man’s head. They slumped forward and he stepped from the vehicle, leaving his gun on the seat.
CHAPTER 57
Northern Iraq
HE’S still on course toward your position. One klick out.”
Rapp remained motionless, lying partially buried by the sand in an elevated position over a roadbed. The steady voice of Marcus Dumond in Langley inspired even more confidence than he remembered.
Not that Claudia and the group of misfits he’d put together had been bad, but there was something to be said for a team of professional, motivated, and patriotic government agents armed with cutting-edge technology. The less drama the better, as far as he was concerned.
“They should be right on top of you, Mitch. I’m using thermal on the surveillance drone, so I’m not sure if they’re running headlights.”
“Copy.”
They weren’t. The hum of an engine was the first thing to reach him. It was a moonless night but a sky full of stars was just enough for Rapp to make out an SUV emerging from the blackness. He followed it with his eyes as it passed and continued north. According to the Agency’s maps, there was nowhere for it to get off until a small village about ten klicks farther on.
The hope was that it was their final destination, but hope had never been worth much in Iraq. Just as likely, they would pass through the village and climb into a mountain range pockmarked with caves that no one knew anything about. If that was the case, this was going to turn into another of the clusterfucks that he’d spent his career dealing with.
Rapp gave them a two-minute lead and then stood, picking up the dirt bike Scott Coleman had lent him. It was an all-electric model made by Zero and, as advertised, it didn’t make a sound when he started it. Slipping on a pair of prototype night-vision goggles, he twisted the throttle and was treated to a disorientating combination of acceleration and silence.
“Are you getting the overhead feed, Mitch?”
All he could see was the hazy green terrain in front of him. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Shit. Hold on.”
He heard something that sounded like Dumond banging on his extremely expensive electronic equipment and was rewarded with an overhead map in his peripheral vision. It displayed speed and direction for both him and his target, as well as their relative positions.
“Five by five.”
“Told you it would work.”
Unfortunately it was one of a thousand things that had to. Tracking Aali Nassar to Mecca had been easy, but after that things had gotten complicated. Sayid Halabi might be a psychopath, but he was a thorough one. He’d run Nassar through tunnels and markets, transported him on foot, on trains, and in cars. There had been more than a few moments of panic—most notably when the Agency had been temporarily fooled by a double in Sakaka—but they’d always managed to reacquire him.
The cost, though, was unprecedented. Satellites had been retasked, allies’ arms had been twisted, and resources had been diverted from a very pissed-off military. Rapp had even been forced to bribe a Taliban group that would undoubtedly use the money for guns they’d eventually shoot at him with.
In light of that, coming up empty wasn’t an option. Nassar had been allowed to drain off an enormous amount of data and money from the Saudis, and letting him walk with it was a huge risk.
“Your speed looks good, Mitch. You’re paralleling them at about five hundred yards.”
“Copy. What’s that ahead, Marcus? Before the village. The infrared’s picking up something I can’t ID.”
“It’s a newly constructed bridge. Went up over the last few days.”
Rapp maneuvered the bike around a deep sand drift and then throttled across what looked like an ancient lake bed. The light amplification wasn’t ideal for picking up ruts in the dried mud, and he was forced to keep his speed below twenty miles an hour.
“It looks perpendicular to the road Nassar’s vehicle is on. Are they going to cross it or go under it?”
“The road leading to the village passes under it. Actually, there is no road that connects to the bridge. It’s just there. Our guys think the builders put it in first and that they haven’t started grading in the road yet.”
“Where would it go?” Rapp said, starting to get suspicious.
