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“They’re still making preparations, sir. But I’ve been assured that all will be ready when you arrive.”
CHAPTER 34
Brussels
Belgium
THE rain in Brussels was coming down much harder than it had been in London. Heavy droplets fell on the windshield, threatening to overwhelm the nondescript Citroën’s wipers. An ideal environment for the tragic but necessary event to come.
Having completed the money transfer to ISIS, Mahja Zaman was staying in a hotel a few kilometers to the north. Nassar’s staff had created a plan to bring him back to Saudi Arabia, where he could be protected, but that strategy required a careless arrogance that was not one of Nassar’s failings. How many times had Mitch Rapp’s targets been put behind impenetrable security only to end up missing or dead? As difficult as the decision had been to make, Zaman had to be moved permanently beyond Rapp’s reach.
His driver dialed a phone with one hand and spoke quietly. “One minute out.”
When the call was disconnected, he glanced over at Nassar in the passenger seat. “With due respect, sir, there’s no reason for you to be personally involved in this. My people can deal with it quickly and quietly without putting you in danger.”
“Noted.”
They pulled into an alley that ran behind the hotel and Nassar stepped out. The service door immediately opened and he entered a utilitarian corridor. To his right, one of his men was closing a door leading to the security guard charged with monitoring the hotel’s myriad security cameras. The recording function had been disabled and the man was lying facedown at his desk with a bullet hole in his head.
They entered a service elevator and Nassar tried to maintain his calm façade as it rose. He was allowing his personal feelings to force an obvious error. His people should have been handling this while he made his way back to Saudi Arabia. Zaman would have felt nothing as he was sent on his journey to paradise. And when he arrived, he would understand that his death was necessary in the battle against the enemies of God.
The doors slid open and Nassar’s man checked the hallway before motioning him forward. Fortunately, the entrance to Zaman’s suite wasn’t far and, as in the alley, the door opened just before Nassar arrived.
“Aali,” Zaman said, embracing him. “I’m happy to see you so soon after our last meeting.”
r /> “As am I, old friend. I understand everything went smoothly?”
“It was a simple matter,” he said, ushering Nassar and his man into the room.
“In affairs like these, Mahja, I’m afraid nothing is simple.”
The man’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but we have reason to believe that the CIA is aware of your involvement.”
“The CIA! How? I followed your instructions to the letter!”
“It had nothing to do with a failure on your part. Just the fortunes of war.”
“Are you here to take me back to Saudi Arabia?” he said, starting to sound a bit panicked. “The CIA kidnaps people from Europe! We must—”
“Mahja! Be calm. We’ve had a long and close friendship. More than that, you’ve been of great service to me and to God. I would never allow you to fall into the hands of the Americans.”
Nassar gave a subtle nod to the man who had taken a position three meters to Zaman’s left. When he pulled a silenced Glock from his jacket, Zaman registered the movement in his peripheral vision. Fortunately, there was hardly even enough time for surprise to register on his face before a round hit him in the temple.
Nassar stood motionless as his man lifted Zaman’s corpse into a chair and began securing it there with a roll of tape.
“Sir,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to be part of this. You should go.”
Nassar nodded and turned toward the door. The war against Mitch Rapp had begun. The former CIA agent was aging and suffering from a lifetime of injuries that would have killed a normal human being. More important, he appeared to be isolated—not only from Scott Coleman and his team, but also from the brilliant strategist Irene Kennedy.
Would it be enough? Would Aali Nassar be remembered by history as the man who finally defeated the American? Or would he just be another entry on the list of his victims?
* * *
Claudia parallel parked the car at the mouth of the alley and turned off the ignition. The rain immediately filled the windshield, and she left the headlights on to dazzle anyone who might glance in their direction.
“My people have been through the hotel’s service area a number of times. The corridor you’ll be walking through isn’t well traveled, but even if you do pass someone it shouldn’t be a problem. The hotel has over a hundred employees, with a fair amount of turnover—no one will give you a second look. Four security guards in total, none with any combat or law enforcement background. Three of them will be on the move and one will be watching the monitors. He’ll be in a room to your right as you walk in.”
