Separation of Power (29 page)

“The hell you did.”

“I did you a favor.”

“My ass you did.” Rapp pointed his pistol at the man whose hands he’d just tied. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

With her eyes closed and a grimace on her face, she shook her head.

“Bullshit, Donny.”

“Stop your stupid arguing and give me a shot of morphine.” She reached out for the kit with her
good hand. For this exact reason Donatella possessed a military first-aid kit, complete with battle dressings, sutures, clamps, surgical staples, penicillin, morphine and much more.

Rapp snatched the kit away from her and said, “I came all the way over here to help you, and you haven’t given me shit. You’d better start giving me some answers.”

“You didn’t come over here to help me, you came over here to help yourself.”

“Oh, is that right, you little ingrate? If I hadn’t stepped in, the Agency would have grabbed you off the street and done God only knows what to you.”

“For all I know, these guys were sent here by the Agency.”

“Yeah, Donny, these guys were sent here by the Agency,” Rapp said in a mocking tone. “That’s why you executed this sap right here.”

“I don’t know them.”

“Bullshit, Donny. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t have just executed this guy if you weren’t afraid he’d have something to say.”

“I don’t know any of these guys.” She grimaced as another wave of pain washed over her. “Give me some goddamn morphine.”

“You might not know these guys personally, but you sure as hell know who sent them.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, my ass, Donny. I’m done fucking around. You’re gonna tell me right now who hired you to kill Peter Cameron, or I’m walking out of this apartment and out of your life.”

“I think you’re walking out of my life whether I tell you or not.”

“Fine.” Rapp grabbed his mobile phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“The Agency. I’m done with you. I’ll babysit you until they get some people over here to pick you up.”

“Hey . . . hey . . . put the phone away for a second.”

“Why? Give me a good reason.”

“Because I need you. Because I saved your life once.”

“Ain’t that convenient. I’ve saved your life twice and tonight makes three. If you want to get the ledger out, I think it’s you who owe me.”

Donatella held her fist up against her forehead and closed her eyes as another wave of pain washed over her. “Just give me the kit, and I’ll give myself the damn shot.”

“Donny, what in the hell is wrong with you? I came here to help you. Why won’t you trust me and tell me who hired you?”

“Give me the shot, and I’ll tell you.”

“Nope.” Rapp shook his head.

“Fine.” Donatella tried to get off the couch, but Rapp pushed her back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Mitch, either give me a shot, or get the hell out of my way.”

“No way, Donny. You can either tell me who hired you, or you can tell one of the Agency’s doctors.”

After letting out a moan, she said, “All right . . . fine. Give me the shot, and then I’ll tell you.”

Rapp looked at her, trying to discern her sincerity. “Do you know who hired you?”

“Yes, dammit! Now give me the damn shot!”

Rapp finally relented and set the kit down. He opened it and found an ampule of morphine. He took the small glass container and held it in front of Donatella’s face. “This is your last chance. I’m going to give this to you and then you’d better tell me who hired you to kill Peter Cameron. If you don’t, you’re going to wish you would have.” Rapp stabbed the ampule into her thigh and the painkiller was released into her bloodstream.

It didn’t take long for Donatella to begin to relax. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Rapp grabbed a pair of scissors from the kit and began cutting the sleeve from Donatella’s bloodstained blouse. His biggest fear now was that she’d lose consciousness from the loss of blood. “Where do you want to start?”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes were getting glassy.

“Who hired you, Donny?”

“Oh . . . we’re back to that again.”

“Yep.” Rapp grabbed one of the towels and started wiping the blood away. “Who hired you, Donny?”

“Oh . . . Mitch, I’m in a lot of trouble.”

“I can help. I promise you I’ll protect you.” Rapp placed one of the towels on the couch. “Here . . . lie down.” He gently lowered her onto the towel. He began cleaning the wound. “Whatever kind of trouble you’re in, I promise I can help you get out of it.” Rapp doused the wound with iodine. Thanks to the morphine, Donatella never felt the sting.

“You have to promise me, Mitchell. You have to promise me that no matter how bad this gets you’ll stand by me.”

Rapp tore open a packet of coagulant powder and sprinkled as much of it into the wound as possible. “Donny, do you trust me?” He looked into her beautiful brown eyes.

Donatella blinked. “Yes, but . . . I’m warning you . . . this is going to get very ugly.”

Rapp shrugged and began packing gauze into the bullet hole. “It can’t be any worse than some of the crap we’ve already been through.”

“Oh, yes it can. You have to promise me that you won’t leave my side until I’m safe. You have to take me to America.”

After thinking about it Rapp said, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

He finished packing the wound and applied a field dressing to the front of her shoulder. Gently, he rolled her onto her side and started cleaning the entry wound. “I’m waiting, Donny.”

Donatella was tired. Too tired to continue the fight. She owed much to Ben Freidman, but if he’d sent these goons to kill her, she owed him no more. She had neither the strength nor the assets to fight him on her own, and any hope of going to him and proving her loyalty was childish. Ben Freidman was a ruthless man who would do anything to save his own ass.

Donatella sighed and said, “It was Ben Freidman.”

Rapp let her roll onto her back. He had to see her face. “You mean to tell me Ben Freidman, the head of Mossad, ordered you to kill Peter Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit,” muttered Rapp. He pushed Donatella back onto her side, and went back to work on the wound. He and Kennedy had ruled the Israelis out. As far as they could tell, there was no motive for them to try and kill Rapp. They must have missed something. Those in the know around Washington knew that no group was better at penetrating U.S. intelligence assets than Israel. In many ways they were America’s most ungrateful ally, but they almost always worked toward the same goal when it came to counterterrorism.

“Was Cameron an agent for Mossad?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then why would Freidman want him dead?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the person who hired us.”

“What do you mean, ‘hired you?’ You said Freidman ordered the hit.”

“I’m freelance now, but Freidman still handles my contracts. He sets everything up, takes care of the money and keeps a third of it.”

“Cheap bastard. So technically Mossad has nothing to do with this.”

“No. We’re completely separate.”

“Donny, I don’t think you’re very separate when you were trained by them, used to work for them and Freidman is the current director general.”

“Mitchell, I’m telling you Mossad had nothing to do with this. Someone approached Ben with a rush job, and they were willing to pay a lot of money to have Cameron taken care of quickly.”

“How much?”

“Half a million.”

Rapp stopped what he was doing momentarily. Half a million bucks was a lot of money for a contract on a former civil servant. “Did you get the money?”

“Yes.”

Rapp placed a field dressing on her back and then gave her a shot of penicillin. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” She smiled crookedly. “I don’t feel a thing.”

After helping her sit up, Rapp asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

“At your service.”

“All right. I’m going to get you a new shirt from your room, and then we need to get out of here.” Rapp stood. “Do you still have a bag packed?”

“Of course. Bedroom closet, bottom right side.”

“If you can think of anything else, now’s the time. You might not be back here for a while.” Rapp hurried into the bedroom and reappeared less than a minute later with a bag over his shoulder, and a blouse and black sweater in hand.

Donatella looked at the dead bodies on the floor. “What are we going to do about these guys?”

“I’ll make a call and have it taken care of.”

Rapp helped Donatella change into her new blouse and sweater and then helped her put on her coat. He threw some of the medical supplies into the bag and grabbed her pistol from the floor. After finding her purse, he put in a fresh magazine and gave her the gun. Rapp grabbed Donatella with one hand and threw the bag over his shoulder. They left the
apartment, locked the door and took the elevator down to the first floor. As they went out into the cool night, Rapp scanned the street for danger. They headed toward the hotel and he briefly wondered how he would explain Donatella to Anna. He tried to tell himself that she’d understand, but something told him it was wishful thinking.

D
onatella wasn’t saying much. Rapp had her gripped firmly under her good arm. He would have liked it if they could have walked a little faster, but at least he didn’t have to carry her. Rapp wasn’t too sure how long she’d last. She’d lost a fair amount of blood. There was no way around the problem; that blood needed to be replaced. They could worry about the wound and possible infection later, but for now he needed to get her stabilized. Fortunately, the streets were not very crowded. If there was any more trouble out there he’d stand a good chance of seeing it coming.

The worry that more Mossad agents might be lurking in the shadows had kept him from using his phone. He had to keep one hand on Donatella and the other on his gun. Conversely though, he needed to alert Kennedy. He needed to tell her what he’d found out, and if there were more Mossad agents about there was a strong case to make that he should call Kennedy immediately and tell her what he’d discovered. If he and Donatella went down in a hail of bullets Kennedy would never discover the truth.

Rapp decided the risk was worth taking. At the next corner he stopped and leaned Donatella against a building. “Hold tight for a second.”

He released the grip of his pistol and grabbed
his earpiece and phone. In a perfect world he would have preferred a more secure form of communication, but his digital satellite phone would have to do. He’d been told the phone was secure, but he knew better. There was very little the National Security Agency couldn’t pick up if they put their minds to it. What he had to say was for Kennedy’s ears only. Yes, the NSA was supposedly on his team, but they had their own problems just like the CIA had theirs, and unfortunately in this particular case Ben Freidman had been very good at cultivating agents within Washington’s various intelligence agencies.

Security be damned, he had to make the call. He would have to use innuendo and personal information to communicate the message. Rapp punched in a special number, one that he’d used very rarely over the last ten years. As it rang, he grabbed Donatella by the arm and they started walking again.

A man answered on the other end with a no- nonsense tone. “State your business.”

“This is an alpha priority call. I need to speak with the DCI immediately.”

“Are you on a secure line?”

“No.”

“I have your number. Hang up and stay off the line.”

Rapp pressed the end button on the phone and turned to check the street behind him. Two men had appeared out of nowhere and they were moving fast. Rapp squeezed Donatella’s arm and whispered, “Look sharp. We might have company.”

T
HE
P
RESIDENT LIKED
Colonel Gray’s plan, and he liked it even more after Kennedy came up with the idea of bringing back one of the nukes. It was not without great risk, however. Launching cruise missiles was one thing. Anybody with or without moral character, anybody with or without some intestinal fortitude could give the order to send in the cruise missiles. It did not test a leader’s skills one iota. Sending in the planes was the next level and involved some real risk on America’s part. The last thing anybody wanted to see was an American airman on Iraqi TV. Putting troops on the ground, though, that was some serious business. Especially sending them into Baghdad.

The president eyed Colonel Gray. “Do you know where you’d land the helicopters?”

Gray produced a map and walked it down to the president. Standing over his left shoulder he said, “Right here, forty-eight miles southwest of Baghdad. We know this area is deserted.”

“Why is it deserted?”

“See this building right here?” Gray stabbed his index finger at the photo.

“Yes.”

“It used to be a chemical weapons factory. We bombed it, and now the area is under quarantine.”

Hayes looked surprised and asked, “You’re going to send your men into an area that’s under quarantine?”

“We bombed it eight years ago, sir. We’ve sent
people back into the area and had the soil and air tested. It’s safe.”

The president was tempted to ask when this was done, but instead accepted the colonel’s answer. “Is there anything else in the area we need to worry about?”

“Just the main road between Al Musaiyih and Baghdad.” Gray again pointed out the spot with his finger. “There’s a secondary road right here, that leads to an abandoned chemical factory.”

“So you’ll use the area to unload the cars.” The president studied the photograph. “What if you get there and it’s occupied?”

“Then we move onto our secondary landing area here.” Gray pointed out the next spot.

“Sounds complicated, Colonel.”

“This isn’t the part that worries me, sir.”

“What is?”

“Baghdad, sir. I don’t have anybody who’s ever set foot in the city. I’d like to find someone who knows their way around, someone who can get into the city before the op and check things out. Someone who can meet my team there and lead them to the target and back out of the city.”