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Cameron tensed as he saw the front door of the mansion open. He brought the binoculars up to his eyes and zeroed in on the area. He breathed a slight sigh of relief as he saw Beth Jansen race down the steps and into the waiting car. As the Audi sped away, Cameron checked the front door to make sure no one was following, and then he watched the car go down the winding driveway. As it neared the gate, Cameron could hear the horn honk and see the headlights flash. Before the car had come to a complete stop, the gate opened. When the car pulled onto the road, Cameron nodded his approval and turned his attention back to the mansion. He watched it for several minutes, looking for a sign that the murders had been discovered. There was nothing.
Pleased with the results, Cameron placed the binoculars in his pocket and began to pick his way through the branches and undergrowth. A few seconds later, he found one of the walking paths and started for the dirt road. Unlike the previous evening, he was the only one in the forest tonight. That had been close. He had almost blown it. His ego had gotten the best of him, and he had decided to try to stalk Rapp. His skills in the forest were amateurish compared with Rapp's. He didn't even get close. Cameron had followed him with night-vision goggles, and when he was barely close enough to see Rapp, the man had stopped and disappeared into the forest. Cameron had stood frozen for more than twenty minutes, afraid that Rapp was doubling back on him. It was the first time he had felt true fear in many years.
Cameron would have liked to have gone up against Rapp in an urban environment. He felt confident he would have the advantage on the busy streets of Washington, where he had practiced his spy craft for decades. That would have been a real pleasure, to have hunted Rapp in Washington. Cameron smiled and shook his head as he walked – happy that the mission was a success and a little disappointed that he would never again experience the thrill of stalking Rapp.
As Cameron neared the dirt road, he veered off the path and found his transportation. Underneath some camouflage netting was a black BMW K 1200LT motorcycle. Cameron folded up the netting and placed it in one of the saddlebags. Then, after wheeling the bike back out onto the path, he put on a helmet and started the sleek machine. Its powerful headlamp lit up the path ahead. As it purred to life, he climbed on and slipped the bike into gear. Cameron slowly moved onto the dirt road and turned toward the cottage, in the opposite direction from the way the Jansens were headed. If everything went according to plan, he'd see them at the airstrip in another twenty minutes. The mission was a success.
HIS EYELIDS FLUTTERED and then snapped open. Mitch Rapp tried to focus, but his vision was blurred. His senses were coming back slowly, one at a time, like a computer booting up programs. His sense of smell came on-line first, the burnt odor of gunpowder filling his nostrils, and then there was a thumping noise, coming from where he did not know. Slowly, he let out a noise that started as a groan and ended as a growl. Rapp tried to move, but the pain was excruciating – in both his head and his chest.
He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where he was and what was wrong. The glaze on his eyes began to clear, and then it hit him. Rapp's first reaction was to try to sit up. His head was barely an inch off the floor when sharp pains shot through his chest, forcing him to give up. Looking back at the ceiling, he brought his right hand up to his chest and felt under the folds of the heavy black leather coat. He pulled his gloved hand out and looked at it for signs of blood. The leather was dry – no blood. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Rapp rolled onto his left side, and from there he got up on one knee and looked around the room.
«That fucking bitch,» he mumbled to himself. His head was still cloudy, but things were coming back to him. Rapp ran his fingers along the outside of the leather jacket and felt the two slugs that had been caught by the Kevlar liner. Rapp remembered them asking him in the cottage if he was wearing any body armor. The way they asked the question at the time seemed unusual, and now he knew why. Thank God she didn't shoot me in the head, he thought.
Remembering that he had started his stopwatch when they passed through the gate, Rapp looked at the watch to find out how much time had passed. He stared in disbelief as he realized he had been out for nearly four minutes. A new sense of urgency kicked in as he looked at the other bodies strewn about the room. Rapp started to stand and had to teach out and grab the edge of the desk to keep from falling over. When he'd steadied himself, he checked the back of his head and was confronted with a black leather glove shiny with blood. He looked at the floor where he'd been, and sure enough, there was a pool of blood the size of a di
Ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest and the throbbing welt on the back of his head, he knelt down and picked up his Ruger pistol. While grabbing the gun, he noticed the bodyguard had been shot. Rapp filed it away and moved on, checking the room for any other evidence that might tie him to Hagenmiller's death. He checked the lawyer and the butler and was relieved to find that they were still breathing. He moved to the main doors, locked them, and then went to the windows to check the driveway below. As he expected, the Audi was gone. With his back against the wall, Rapp looked around the room and scrambled to come up with a plan. He needed to get rid of the blood, and just wiping it up wouldn't do the trick. Fear of getting caught was helping to clear his mind. After a few seconds his eyes fell on the fireplace, and then he looked around at all of the expensive artwork. He didn't want to do it, but he saw no other solution. Rapp recalled the mansion's floor plan and looked to the study's other set of doors. They led to the game room and then through another door to the solarium. From there he could get outside onto the grounds near where the limousines and cars were parked. The decision was made in a split second.
Rapp moved across the room to a collection of crystal bottles sitting in the middle of a sterling silver tray; He pulled the top off one of the bottles, brought it under his nose, and got a stiff whiff of cognac. Rapp took a swig from the bottle and then walked over to the pool of blood, dousing the area and then the bodies of bHagenmiller and the bodyguard. With the remaining bottles he began soaking the rug, curtains, and whatever else he could think of. He raced over to the fireplace, took a stick of kindling from an old brass kettle, and stuck it into the flames. Seconds later the ski
Rapp grabbed the butler by the shirt collar and dragged him across the floor to the doors by the game room. He did the same with the lawyer, who was starting to stir. Flames were licking their way up the wall, and the heat was rising rapidly. Rapp burst through the doors into the game room and dragged the two men in with him. He stopped for just a second to catch his breath, worried that one of his ribs was probably broken. He told himself there was nothing he could do about it right now and then moved to lock the doors to the study from the inside. He took one last look around – the bodies were completely engulfed in flames, and the fire was spreading rapidly. Rapp pulled the door shut and ran across the long room, past the billiards table, the stuffed heads of exotic animals, a suit of armor, and finally an antique wood bar.