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“Okay.” One of Cameron’s phones started to ring. He looked to see which one it was and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get this.”
WITHIN SECONDS OF the words leaving Michael O’Rourke’s lips, Rapp knew Anna was in trouble. He asked O’Rourke if he was sure Anna had told Liz she was going to meet him. O’Rourke said he was sitting right next to his wife when she took the call. Rapp was tempted to go upstairs and wake Liz, but after weighing what could be learned, he thought better of it. The last thing he needed right now was an emotional pregnant reporter on his hands. Rapp tried Rielly’s apartment first. The answering machine picked up after four rings, and he hung up. When he tried her cell phone, a recorded voice told him the customer he was trying to reach was not available. Anna always answered her cell phone unless she was on the air. Something was wrong. Rapp strained to remain calm in front of O’Rourke. The ante had just been upped, and whoever these fuckers were, they were going to pay.
Before leaving, Rapp told O’Rourke not to say a word to his wife. O’Rourke was a bit reluctant at first until Rapp assured him that he could do a better job of finding Anna than the feds. Rapp promised to call, and then he and Coleman disappeared into the night.
He gave Coleman the address for Anna’s apartment and told him to step on it. On the way, he dialed Stansfield’s secure home number. When Kennedy answered, Rapp asked, “How’s he doing?”
“He’s asleep.”
“I think they have Anna.”
There was a moment of silence and then, “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to get a team over to Anna’s apartment right now.” Rapp gave her the address. “We should be there in two minutes.”
“What else?”
“Put one of the SOG teams on alert. I might need them for backup.”
Kennedy was wondering how to handle the request for one of Langley’s Special Operations groups. They were the CIA’s equivalent of a SWAT team. She had the authority to make the request, but it would probably be better if Stansfield did it.
“I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”
“This changes everything.”
Kennedy didn’t like the detached calmness she heard in his voice. “How so?”
“I don’t care how high this goes, I’m going to kill every last one of them.” Rapp ended the call and stared out the window as the truck raced up Wisconsin Avenue.
THEY CIRCLED THE apartment building twice, checking for surveillance, and then parked in front of a fire hydrant. Rapp and Coleman entered the building with their heads down, not wanting to give the surveillance camera a shot of their faces. Rapp used his set of keys to gain access. Once in the stairwell, they both drew their weapons and attached silencers. Rapp was carrying a 9-mm Beretta and Coleman a H&K USP .45 ACP. He took ten seconds to give Coleman the basic layout of the apartment. Coleman was used to working in pairs. It was a cornerstone of SEAL training. Rapp, on the other hand, was a lone wolf. Coleman took a couple of seconds to make sure they were on the same page, and then they started up the stairs.
When they reached the fourth floor, Rapp gave the hallway a quick check and then left the stairwell. They were not pausing for anything. If someone was waiting for them, the best way to handle it was to move fast and hit hard. Rapp took up a position on the right side of Rielly’s door and Coleman on the left. Rapp quietly inserted the key and opened the door. Coleman entered the apartment right on Rapp’s heels. He closed and locked the door behind them. They checked the front hall closet first and then the kitchen and the living room. Neither man spoke. They moved from room to room, Rapp taking the lead, Coleman watching his back. Every door was opened and then closed. In less than thirty seconds, they had checked the entire place. Thirty seconds after that, they found the first listening device. They left it undisturbed and retreated from the apartment, leaving the door unlocked.
Back in the truck, Rapp called Kennedy.
“The apartment was wired. Put your best people on it. Tell them to find the transponder and sit on it. If someone shows up to check on it, I want them followed. We’re on our way to Marcus’s. I’ll call you when we get there.”
Coleman gunned the engine as they turned off New Mexico and onto Nebraska. Two blocks to the northeast, they hit a traffic circle. Coleman took it two-thirds of the way around and shot onto Massachusetts Avenue. As they cut through the swank Spring Valley neighborhood, Coleman asked, “What’s our next move?”
Rapp couldn’t get the bad images out of his mind. He could tolerate astronomical amounts of pain. He’d been shot and stabbed, he’d broken a dozen bones and pushed his body to the point where the only thing that kept him going was the will to live, but this was different. He was close to crying. The idea of someone hurting Anna was the most agonizing thing he had ever felt. Rapp shook the images from his mind and turned to look out his window. He wiped some of the moisture from his eyes. He didn’t want Coleman to see him like this. “We’ll find out if Marcus has made any progress, and then we’ll try the Professor again.”
Rapp had regained his composure by the time they reached Dumond’s. Kennedy had already called Dumond and told him that Rielly had been taken. Dumond, never quite knowing how to deal with Rapp, decided not to attempt any words of comfort. Instead, he explained how the search for the Professor was going. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going so well. Coleman’s two men, Kevin Hackett and Dan Stroble, had been looking over thousands of photos of current and former State Department employees, and they had yet to come up with a solid match.
This was not what Rapp wanted to hear, and he could barely contain his anger. Dumond, however, had an idea that he thought might help. “When was the last time you tried this guy?”
“Around nine this evening.”
“And he hasn’t answered since the first time you talked?”
“Yep.”
“Well, he’s going to have to, isn’t he?”
“Why?”