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“They’re fine on foot.”
“What about Kent?”
“He’s okay, but he had to get out of the apartment fast. There’s just no way to make that rifle quiet. I heard you have the prince. Is that true?”
“I lost him.”
“What do you mean, ‘lost him’? He’s not a set of keys! How could you have lost him?”
Rapp slowed to the speed limit and opened a window to try and clear the smell of bin Musaid’s damaged bowel. “Long story.”
CHAPTER 30
RAPP eased the BMW to the edge of the dock and looked both ways. It was empty of pedestrian traffic at this hour, and most of the yachts moored near his were dark. The inevitable exception was the one inhabited by the tireless rich kids. They were on another tear, but it wouldn’t be a problem for him. Even if they noticed the BMW and managed to make out the small-arms damage, they’d never remember it in the morning.
He turned left, trying to keep his engine noise down. Claudia was standing on the yacht’s stern and the gangways were in place.
He was barely on board before she started retracting them and closing the stern railing. Living up to his reputation for efficiency, their Congolese captain immediately began motoring out to sea.
Claudia opened the car’s passenger door and backed away at the sight of the blood. “Did you do this?”
“He got hit in the bar,” Rapp said, stepping out and talking quietly over the top of the vehicle. “They were chasing me because of him, so I tossed his body out.”
Not entirely the truth, but close enough.
“But you’re all right? And by that I mean completely uninjured.”
He nodded. “What about the others?”
“Same. Kent is on his way to France on a motorcycle. Donatella is on a train to Italy, and Grisha’s company is sending a jet for him. He’ll take it to his house in London. Then, after things calm down, they’ll all make their way back to Africa.”
“And us?”
“We’ll detour over some deep water to get rid of the car and rendezvous with them next week.”
* * *
It took some effort, but he finally managed to get bin Musaid’s blood off him and down the drain. Leaning into the hot water, he let it pound on the back of his head, forcing Claudia to raise her voice to be heard. She was sitting on the granite counter with a portable computer on her lap.
“It’s on pretty much every television channel in the world, Mitch. There’s some shaky cell phone footage from the parking lot, but nothing of you yet. That’s not going to be true of the interior security cameras. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to shut them down.”
It was another drawback to having left the government. Kennedy could have seriously limited access to that security video. Now it was likely that the local police were already watching it, and by dawn Interpol, the FBI, CIA, MI6, and Saudi intelligence would have copies. It wasn’t going to be long before he was identified.
“Sixteen dead,” she continued. “More than that wounded. The authorities are holding back the names, but an unofficial list is starting to circulate. There are some very wealthy and powerful men on here, Mitch. This is going to get a lot of attention. Do you know who the shooters were?”
“Iraqis.”
“Not a coincidence, I assume.”
“No. The fireworks were just for show. They were after bin Musaid.”
“Who sent them?”
His initial reaction was to lie. Not because he thought she didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut, but because he wanted to protect her. Unfortunately, it was a little late for that now.
“Aali Nassar.”
“The Saudi intelligence chief?”
