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“Then let me provide you with additional evidence.”
He retrieved a tablet from his briefcase and Faisal looked down at the photo on it with red-rimmed eyes. “Ahmed.”
“Yes, sir. Details of Assistant Ambassador el-Hashem’s murder are now coming in from French authorities. As you can see, he was tied to a chair, tortured, and then shot in the head with a single nine-millimeter bullet.” Nassar swiped to the next photo. “And this, though unrecognizable because of the blood and damage, is Mahja Zaman, a businessman I believe you’re acquainted with.”
Faisal looked up at him. “One of your closest friends. Isn’t that true, Aali?”
“Yes, Highness. We’ve known each other since we were children.”
“What happened?”
“Precisely the same thing. He was bound, tortured, and killed with a bullet to the head.”
“And you suspect Mitch Rapp.”
“This goes far beyond simple suspicion, Your Highness. El-Hashem’s guard barely escaped with his life, and his description of the man who attacked the ambassador matches Rapp. Further, a man leaving Zaman’s hotel room was confronted by two security guards. He subdued them both in a matter of seconds. They, as well as a French couple who actually spoke with the man, describe someone very similar in appearance to Rapp.”
“But why Zaman and el-Hashem? Do we have any reason to believe that they were involved in aiding ISIS?”
“No, but we’re looking deeper. Be mindful of the fact that they wouldn’t necessarily have to be involved for Rapp to come for them. He’s no longer bound by American laws or CIA regulations. All he would need is some vague suspicion that they had information—even unwittingly—that could help him.”
Despite the cool interior of the limousine, sweat began to glisten on Faisal’s face. It wasn’t surprising. He had been the driving force behind the deal struck with the Americans after 9/11. And, more important, he was responsible for making sure that the Saudi end of the agreement was honored. At that moment he would be wondering if he might be Rapp’s next target.
“Your Highness,” Nassar said, softening his tone, “this entire matter is easily resolved. We simply need to speak with the American authorities and request a meeting with Mr. Rapp. If he’s not responsible for any of this, it should be a trivial matter for him to prove it.”
Faisal didn’t react for a long time, but finally he spoke. “You’re right, Aali. With the evidence we have, it is entirely reasonable that we would want to speak with Mitch. I imagine that Irene Kennedy and the president feel the same. All he has to do is provide evidence of his whereabouts during these attacks. As you say, a simple matter.”
“Precisely, Highness. And if the Americans are unable to produce Mr. Rapp, I think it’s also reasonable that we solicit their help in finding him. Wouldn’t you agree? I’m sure they’re as anxious to clear this up as we are.”
CHAPTER 38
Juba
South Sudan
TURN left up here,” Rapp said, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard.
His Glock was resting in his lap, but so far there was no sign of the rebels that Black had warned them about.
“There is no left turn. Just a bunch of stalls,” Claudia said, weaving through the pedestrians clogging the dirt street.
Instead of going directly to the abandoned safari hotel his people had retreated to, they were taking a circuitous route to a building behind Black’s repurposed church. The fact that the instructions he’d provided didn’t match the GPS map wasn’t all that surprising—Google’s cartographers had good reason to avoid Juba. It did, however, add to the suspicion lodged in the back of Rapp’s mind.
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Could Black be leading him into a trap? Was it possible that Nassar had somehow managed to locate the young sniper and make him an offer he couldn’t refuse? Or, even more likely, had Black initiated contact with the authorities himself? He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was sure as hell sharp enough to know that Rapp’s scalp was about to become a very hot commodity on the world market.
“Mitch? What do you want me to do?”
They could just find their own path, but that had its own risks. Rapp’s knowledge of the town was limited and its layout was constantly evolving. Impromptu markets sprang up and disappeared, buildings collapsed and were replaced with temporary structures. Roads were rerouted and commandeered. He assumed that the Agency had updated maps, but he didn’t have access to them anymore.
“Just take the next left you come to.”
He checked again for signal on his cell and again got nothing.
“Do you think Kent’s betrayed us?”
“Maybe, but I’m betting against it. It’s possible that he could get lucky and take out Donatella, but Grisha? More likely it’s just Africa.”
