"You got any Coke?"
"In the fridge."
"So what did the boys find in the safety deposit box?" Rapp asked.
"Two guns. One Makarov and a Beretta. Silencers for each and a few extra clips of ammo."
"Serial numbers?"
"Removed."
"What else?"
"Six hundred thousand dollars in cash," Coleman said with a grin.
"You're kidding me?"
"Nope."
Rapp looked at the far wall and thought of the agreement he'd made with the banker. "Kapodistras must have shit himself."
"Who?"
"Kapodistras, the banker."
"Wicker said he was a nervous wreck the whole time, but as soon as he saw how much cash was in the box, he stopped complaining. Did you have any idea there would be that much cash?"
"No," Rapp shook his head. "What else was in there?"
"Passports, credit cards...the standard stuff. He also had one of those new memory sticks that mirrors your hard drive."
Rapp looked to Dumond.
"When are they due in?" Dumond asked Coleman.
"They left Paris this morning and should be landing just before noon."
"What did they do with all the cash?" Rapp asked.
"They gave it all to the banker and instructed him to wire half of it to our account in the Bahamas."
"The guns?"
"Left them in the box with the fake passports and credit cards."
"Nice touch."
"There was one other thing of interest in the box. Two index cards. One with a series of apparently random numbers. The other with dates and dollar amounts."
"They sent me photos of the cards," Dumond announced as he held up his PDA for Rapp to see. "The first card is a series of codes, probably for other accounts he has. The second card," Dumond pressed a button and the tiny screen showed the second photo, "looks like a list of deposits."
"Maybe." Rapp studied the tiny image for a moment and then said, "Or they might be something else."
"Like what?"
"Jobs."
"Jobs?" Dumond wasn't following.
"They're notches on his belt. My guess is each one coincides with a hit he made and how much he was paid."
Dumond looked at the small screen. "Some of them don't have a dollar amount."
"Kills he didn't get paid for," Rapp answered.
"Sick fucker," Coleman added. "You keep track of your kills?" he asked Rapp.
"No."
"The only guys I ever knew who did were the twisted ones."
Dumond's phone rang and he walked out into the hallway to take it. Rapp looked at Coleman and said, "Gazich lied to me on the plane."
"About?"
"How things went down."
"And that surprises you? This guy has a black heart. I wouldn't trust anything that comes out of his mouth."
Rapp frowned. "I believed him. You know how you get a feel for these things after you've been through enough of them?"
"Yeah."
"Well, he had no incentive to lie. He's a one-man operation. Whoever hired him was in the process of trying to kill him when we showed up."
"What did he lie about?"
"He told me he received a call right before the attack that told him the target was the second limo."
"Yeah," Coleman said.
"I talked to Rivera yesterday, and she told me they didn't shuffle the limos."
"What does that matter? He was trying to take both of them out, wasn't he?"
"No." Rapp shook his head. "He claims he was only trying to hit the second limo."
Coleman leaned against the Formica countertop. "So he was probably trying to hit both cars."
"Which means he lied about the phone call."
"Well, don't get yourself too worked up. Skip called me this morning. He'd also like you to give him a call."
"He'll have to take a number."
"He says he's under a lot of pressure. Gazich volunteered for and passed a lie detector test. Skip said they had the Bureau's best guy running the machine, and this fucker beat it."
Rapp smiled. "This is just too perfect."
"Yeah. Skip says Justice is freaking out, State is freaking out, and even some of the boys at the Bureau are starting to waiver."
"He say anything about the media?"
"He said the phone is ringing off the hook. The press is digging hard."
"Good."
Dumond came back in the break room with a big grin on his face.
"What's got you so excited?" Rapp asked.
"I just found out who our guest is." Dumond pointed at the floor.
"The Russian?" Coleman asked.
"Yep, except he's not Russian."
36.
WASHINGTON, DC.
No one spoke. Not in the elevator. Not in the lobby. Ross wanted to speak, wanted desperately to speak, but didn't dare until he was away from the Secret Service agents and Gordon. They were halfway between the main door and the waiting limousine when Garret reached out and grabbed Ross's elbow. The two men stopped and then Gordon stopped and then all six agents stopped. Only one agent looked at the protectee. The other five adjusted their positions to shield Ross as much as possible. The men did not look comfortable. They'd been trained to move people from one secure area to the next. No loitering in between. Forty feet away was a brand-new armored limousine engineered to handle twice the explosion that had torn apart the older model limousine that fateful day back in October. All six Secret Service agents fought the instinct to literally grab Ross by the collar and throw him headfirst into the limo.
Special Agent Brown approached Ross and Garret. "Excuse me, sir. It's not good to stop in the open like this. Could you please get in the limo?"
Garret ignored the agent, while Ross shot him a withering look. "This was an unscheduled stop. No one knows I'm here. Relax and back off. I want some privacy."
Brown concealed the anger he felt toward Ross. It had been building up ever since he took over for Rivera, and it had peaked in Switzerland the previous weekend. The guy was a power-hungry son of a bitch. What did it matter to him if they talked in the back of the limo or here on the street? Brown backed away, stayed calm, signaled for his men to spread out, and made a mental note to add the incident to the file. The hell if he was going to take a fall like Rivera's.
Gordon was checking e-mail on his BlackBerry and began drifting back toward his boss and Garret. Garret put out his hand and said, "Why don't you go make a few phone calls?"
Gordon stopped and looked up at Garret. He was yet again the odd man out. Saturday couldn't come soon enough. Gordon thought he might even offer to drive Garret to the airport himself.
As soon as Gordon was out of earshot, Garret moved within a half foot of Ross and in a hushed voice said, "This is too good to be true."
"I know. Now I can go out there and really clean house."
"I don't give a shit about the CIA. I'm talking about the fact that they got the wrong guy."
"We don't know that for sure."
"Give me one good reason why Rapp would refuse to come in. He knows he fucked up. He's not going to come back here and face scrutiny. He's gonna run, or who knows he might even try to frame this guy to save his own ass."
"So what do we do?"
"Pour gas on this thing."
"Huh?"
"We light the match and fan the flames. We get you out in front of this thing."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Even if this is the guy, and that's looking pretty iffy at the moment, Speyer told me there is absolutely no way he can be traced back to us. You're a statesman now. You come out hard on this thing. Very law-and-order. What Rapp did was wrong. Excessive force. The U.S. doesn't condone torture and will not tolerate it. Then you make some statement demanding an inquiry."
Ross shook his head. "Too strong right now. I think we'd be better off taking a position off the record."
"With Tom Rich from the Times." Times."
"Yep. That way we drive the story and then when the other shoe drops we ask for Rapp's and Kennedy's head."
"I like it." Garret glanced over each shoulder. "These damn agents make me nervous. You go on without me. I need to make a few calls. I'll see you back at the hotel for lunch."
Ross watched Garret leave and then started for the limo. Gordon was standing next to the open rear door replying to an e-mail with both thumbs. Ross could see that he was unhappy with being excluded and a thought occurred to him. It was something he'd been thinking about since Garret had arrived at the airport on Sunday. The vice presidentelect climbed into the back seat and waited for Gordon to settle in.
"Jonathan, have you noticed any strange behavior from Stu lately?"
The expression on Gordon's face seemed to say, "Are you kidding me?" He put his BlackBerry away and took off his reading glasses. "I've always found Stu to be a bit strange."
Ross smiled. "I know. The man is a real pain in the ass, but he's extremely good at what he does. He's short-term. You're long-term. Long-term friend and confidant. Please don't ever forget that."
"I won't. Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome." Ross smiled. The vehicle started to move. He glanced out the window and said, "So back to Stu. Any odd behavior lately?"
"Sir, to put it bluntly the man is an asshole. And I mean twenty-four-seven, so it's hard to judge, but I at least expected him to relax this week."
"Me too."
"This is our time to celebrate. People are lining up to hand him retainers. Hell, I have people calling me to see if I can set up meetings for them."
"The victory was very good for his business."