“What’s that get me in return?”
“I think we can expect continued surveillance on you, Scott, and his key people but beyond that, the Cooks forget you ever existed.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Here’s what I can tell you. Right now, he’s scared. The Secret Service is restructuring his security in a way that’s designed specifically to stop an assassination attempt by you. Once that’s done and some time passes with you abiding by your side of the agreement, he should feel significantly safer. At that point, you’ll probably be fine.”
“Probably?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Mitch. Anthony Cook is a man motivated by power and dominance over others. You know his type as well as I do. The question is whether that need is more powerful than his survival instinct.”
The number she’d called from was encrypted but not one of their highly secure protocols. It was possible the NSA was listening, but he was beyond caring.
“I see that as leaving me with three options.”
“Three?” Kennedy said. “Do tell.”
“One, I could try to take him out. But it’d be a heavy lift and guaranteed to come back and bite me in the ass.”
“I agree. What’s your second option?”
“I disappear. Pack up tonight, slip out of here, and spend the rest of my life under the radar.”
“I see a lot of drawbacks to that plan, Mitch. If you drop out of sight, he’s going to think it’s to come after him. The entire world’s going to be hunting you. Let’s talk about option three.”
“That’s the simple one. I take him at his word. My life here isn’t anything to complain about. I can get back into racing, heal up, and, if I get bored, I can do some jobs with Scott.”
“I don’t want to sound like I’m backing you into a corner, Mitch, but I think that’s the only viable way forward. It’s possible that Cook won’t be able to let this go, but I’m leaning in the direction of him just wanting it behind him. And I can almost guarantee the first lady does.”
“Okay. You’ve convinced me. But before I agree, I need to talk to Scott and the guys. They’re going to end up under surveillance and at least for a while there’s going to be a risk to them bunching up. The opportunity to take them out in something that looks like an op gone wrong might be too tempting for Cook. But if they’re okay with it, then we have a deal.”
CHAPTER 10
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, DC
USA
“I JUST got a call from Irene Kennedy,” Darren Hargrave said. “Rapp’s agreed to our terms.”
President Anthony Cook scanned the Oval Office, settling first on the concerned expression of Stephen Wright and then on the more enigmatic one of the first lady. With everyone else standing near the middle of the room, she’d chosen a place on one of the sofas.
It appeared that his wife had finally come up against a problem her brilliant mind couldn’t solve. Her fatal flaw had always been her belief that other people—at least to some degree—were slaves to the same cold logic that ruled her existence. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. The average human’s mind was a tidal wave of contradictory emotions unbounded by intellect or calculation. Love, hate, fear, greed, lust—all fighting for dominance, advancing and retreating, controlling and justifying every action and reaction.
While her advice was perhaps valuable when dealing with someone like Irene Kennedy, she was completely lost where a man like Mitch Rapp was concerned. He was smarter and better trained than most but ruled by the same urges and passions. Cook, unlike his wife, understood those impulses because he, too, felt them. It was what fueled his popularity, making him relatable to the average voter. It was also what allowed him to understand the threat that Mitch Rapp posed in a way his wife never could.
Or was it more than that? He’d been dreaming of the presidency almost all his life, but it was she who had shown him that it didn’t have to be an end in and of itself. That it could be a stepping-stone. With her eyes locked entirely on that prize, though, was he becoming just another cog in her machine? Losing the next election would be devastating to her achieving her goals. On the other hand, his death would be only a speed bump. One she could use to propel herself into the presidency. A few years earlier than they’d planned, of course, but she could recalibrate. Catherine Cook could always recalibrate.
“Do you trust him?” Cook said finally.