“Louis is definitely dead. Killed by Mitch Rapp’s mentor. His wife, though, is a different story. You can’t imagine how much effort has been expended creating the impression that she’s dead and wiping all references to that effort from the Agency’s databases. In fact, they did such a thorough job, it left a number of loose ends. Holes that only someone looking very carefully would notice.”
“Why do we care?” Catherine said, not bothering to hide her increasing irritation.
“There were no photographs of Claudia Gould left in our database, but the Mossad managed to put their hands on one.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a grainy photo of a young woman sitting at what looked like a European café.
“May I present to you Mitch Rapp’s girlfriend, Claudia Dufort.”
Cook took the picture and examined it. “Are you sure of this?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Interesting,” Stephen Wright said. “But how does it help us?”
“Claudia Gould wasn’t just Louis’s wife; she handled all the research and logistics for his operations. And as a full partner, she made a lot of enemies. That’s why it was necessary for her to disappear. And while the Agency doesn’t have much information on her life as Claudia Dufort, we have a great deal of information on her and her husband’s activities in years past. That includes a pretty solid list of people she’s crossed. What if one of those people were to find out that she isn’t dead? That, in fact, she’s living the good life in South Africa?”
Cook thought about that for a moment. “They’d go after her, not Rapp. And if we’re careful about how we share the information, there’d be no reason for him to think we had anything to do with it.”
“Exactly,” Hargrave said. “At that point, our worst-case scenario is that Rapp stops an attack on her and becomes consumed by the fear that word about her being alive has hit the street. Or maybe he fails and then becomes consumed with guilt and the idea of exacting revenge.”
Cook nodded slowly. “Either way, we get some breathing room to consolidate my security.”
“Exactly.”
“You said that’s our worst-case scenario. What’s best case?”
“That he takes a bullet for her or her daughter and ends up as collateral damage. If that happens, all our problems are solved.”
Catherine Cook watched Hargrave and Wright file out of the Oval Office and then turned her attention to her husband. He looked tired. Uncertain. Instead of exuding strength, he seemed to be hiding weakness. It was a subtle change, but one the American people had a sharp nose for. Once it took hold in their subconscious, their reverence for their president would transform into loathing. Without ever knowing why, they’d turn away from him in favor of someone who could give them what they needed.
Her husband met her eye. “What?”
“How much security will be enough, Tony? What will it take for you to say you’re safe from Mitch Rapp and his people? How long will it take? And will safety only be here in the prison you’ve created for yourself? Or one day will you be able to go back out into the country you’re supposed to be ruling? Because the press and your constituents are already starting to notice. While Nicholas Ward is going head-to-head with African terrorists, you’re hiding behind your desk.”
As expected—and intended—his anger flared. “We control Congress, we control most of the government agencies that mean anything, and I’ve proven I have got the power to get people elected or tossed out on their—”
“All of which can disappear overnight, Tony. You know that as well as I do. We’ve seen it happen to other politicians and to think we’re immune could be fatal. Look, I agree that we need to take precautions and increase your security, but at some point there needs to be an end to it. We need to have a plan with concrete, measurable goals. And when we achieve them, we need to move on.”
“Suddenly you’re a security expert?”
“Suddenly Darren is?” she retorted. “He’s a manipulative psychopath who’s obsessed with you. And that made him easy to use, but I sense that you’re not in the driver’s seat anymore.”
“He’s loyal, Cathy. That’s a rare thing in this town. Maybe rarer than I thought.”
She wasn’t sure if that was aimed at her, but now wasn’t the time to try to find out. “He cares about you the way a parasite cares about its host, Tony. He wants to feed off of you. To bump everyone else out of your orbit and be the only one left. Mitch Rapp is the best thing that ever happened to him. There’ll always be a new angle, a new threat that only he can protect you from. Think about it, Tony. How many people has Darren Hargrave destroyed over the years we’ve know him? How many careers has he ended? Don’t fall into this trap. Please.”