Hargrave laughed. “Are you kidding? The way he sees it, you sent one of his best friends to kill him. And I don’t think anyone’s dumb enough to buy the story of Nash’s suicide. Rapp tortured him to death like he does all his enemies.”
Cook felt a vague wave of nausea wash over him at the man’s words, but didn’t let it show. “So he offers the truce in an effort to buy time.”
“It’s exactly what I expected, sir. He needs to keep us off him so he can figure out how to make his move before we get your security fully up to speed.”
“My understanding is that we’re now tracking everyone in his inner circle,” Catherine interjected.
Hargrave shrugged. “We still don’t have reliable surveillance on Scott Coleman, but we believe that he’s still at Ward’s compound in Uganda. Bruno McGraw recently turned up in Greece and our people there are watching him. But again, none of this is a surprise. While it’s true that they’re all in plain sight, they’re also separated from one another in Europe, Virginia, South Africa, and Wyoming. At best, he’s making it impossible for us to take them all out in one operation. At worst, he’s putting them in position to come at us from too many directions for us to handle. And at this point in our preparation, it’ll likely work. These aren’t a bunch of amateurs or fanatics. We’re talking about the team that’s assassinated everyone from the head of ISIS to the president of Russia to Christine Barnett.”
Cook turned toward his Secret Service director before the first lady could mount a counterargument. “Steve?”
“We’re making steady progress and every day our ship gets tighter. But are we ready for a concerted attack by someone like Mitch Rapp? No.”
Cook nodded slowly. Despite the people in his office and the millions of devotees around the country, he felt increasingly isolated.
“I agree,” he said finally. “The fact that Rapp and his people are suddenly so visible and spread out seems like a trick to me. I wonder if he’s not trying to get us focused in the wrong direction. Like Darren said in our last meeting, Scott Coleman and his men aren’t the only Rapp loyalists out there. We have no idea what kind of plans he could be making with operatives we don’t know anything about.”
“Our thoughts exactly,” Hargrave said. “I have teams going through the Agency’s database looking for the exact kinds of people you’re talking about. We’re already at more than a hundred, about half of whom are foreign. And let’s not forget that Rapp is wealthy in his own right and that his brother is a billionaire. With those kinds of resources, he could hire a contractor or series of contractors that he has no traceable relationship with. All he’d have to do is provide them with a plan and access.”
“And what do you propose to do about that?” Catherine said from her position on the sofa. “You already tried to get to him at his house and failed. Why is it you’re so reluctant to consider the possibility that he’s willing to let this go? Mitch Rapp is a cold-blooded killer, but he’s never been someone who’s hidden behind lies and deception. If he wants someone dead, he’s not coy about it.”
“Your point?” the president said.
“My point is that if you go after him again, you’d better succeed. Because if you don’t there won’t be any more negotiations or truces. It’s going to be him or us.”
“Him or me,” Cook corrected. “I’m the one in his crosshairs, Catherine. Not you. Not Darren. Not Steve. Me.”
She refused to look away. “More the reason to proceed with caution, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” Hargrave said, a barely perceptible smile playing at his lips. Cook recognized the expression. He knew something everyone else didn’t.
“What’ve you got, Darren?”
“Well, obviously, we have to agree to his offer of a truce. After that we can’t be seen going on the offensive. But that doesn’t mean someone else can’t.”
“I’m in no mood for your drama today,” Cook said. “Spit it out.”
The CIA chief’s smile broadened. “Like I said, we’ve been going through all of the CIA’s classified files on Rapp and the people he’s come into contact with over the years. Surprisingly, his most interesting relationship turns out to be with a contract killer named Louis Gould.”
“Gould?” Cook said. “I was briefed on him and his wife at some point. If I remember right, they’re both dead. They have been for a while.”