Page 72 of Denied Access (Mitch Rapp #24)

H URLEY sat frozen with the plastic bag still clenched in his hands.

Then his eyes narrowed and his jawline hardened. Turns out the old Stan Hurley was still in there somewhere.

“The fuck you say?”

“Listen,” Rapp said, trying to defuse the brewing thunderstorm, “everything about your approach checks out except for one thing.”

“Please,” Hurley snarled. “Enlighten me.”

“Your focus on the Russian volunteer. He could have the goods, or he could be a ghost. And even if he’s real, and we manage to link up with him, there’s no guarantee that what he considers proof of the false-flag operation will convince anyone else.

Russian transports are already landing at the air force base in Lociki.

Once Russian soldiers start rolling into the street, the game’s up.

We can’t risk betting everything on the volunteer. ”

“I’m still waiting for the part where you tell me your plan.”

“Petrov. You said it yourself—Petrov is the key to everything.”

Hurley frowned. “I know that, dipshit. What are you saying—that we should have a talk with the old man?”

Rapp shook his head. “We’re well past talking. We’ll both go to Moscow. You meet with the volunteer. I’ll kill Petrov.”

Hurley opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

“Look, kid, I appreciate your initiative, but I think that’s a little easier said than done.

Setting aside the repercussions of assassinating a high-ranking FSK officer on his home turf, this isn’t an operation we can just wing.

We’d need to establish a pattern of life, figure out where he lives, all the shit we don’t have the time or resources to do. ”

“Ordinarily I’d agree, but in this case, we don’t have to do any of those things. We know exactly where to find Petrov—his office.”

If Stan had looked surprised before, he now seemed positively shell-shocked. “Are you fucking kidding me? You want to walk into FSK headquarters and cut Petrov’s throat?”

“Not me,” Rapp said, pointing at the disguise components still scattered across the coffee table, “a Hezbollah shithead looking for a new investment opportunity. I bet Petrov would love to meet with another potential contributor to his slush fund.”

Hurley’s jaw was still clenched, but his face no longer shouted disbelief. Instead his expression looked thoughtful. “That’s not half bad, but Petrov isn’t going to meet with just any jihadi. You’d need an introduction.”

“Surely you’ve got some jihadis on the payroll,” Rapp said. “Get one of them to set it up.”

Hurley rubbed his chin as he stared off in the distance.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask Stansfield to lean on Max Powers, the Near East Division chief.

Lebanon falls within his area of responsibility.

I’m sure one of his case officers has an asset that could be persuaded to reach out to Petrov on your behalf. This could actually work.”

Hurley looked back at Rapp.

“It’ll be hairy. Even if you pull this off, we still need to figure out the exfil and a bunch of other logistical details.

Meeting with a Russian volunteer under the FSK’s nose is dangerous.

Waltzing into FSK headquarters to assassinate one of their senior leaders is borderline suicidal. You sure you want to try this?”

Rapp locked eyes with Hurley. “You sure Petrov had Carl and Elsa Ohlmeyer killed?”

Hurley dipped his head. “As sure as I can be.”

“Then so am I.”