Consent To Kill

She explained that her boss had called her on Thursday of the previous week and told her not to bother coming in for a while. She decided to take the time to travel. She was going to leave this very morning and then these men showed up at her apartment. At this point she had a melt-down, and it took several minutes and a little Xanax to calm her down. One of the men she recognized. The tall one. She was pretty sure he was a Saudi. Her boss did a lot of work with the Saudis and several of the other Arab countries. She explained that Vie

Meanwhile Rapp was going through the contents of the safe. It took one of Milt's guys less than two minutes to open it. They'd found some interesting stuff in there, like a copy of Alice in Wonderland. A leftover from his old days with the Stasi no doubt. Probably given to him by his KGB supervisor. Rapp opened it to the title page and sure enough it was addressed to Abel. The inscription was in Russian and since Rapp didn't understand a word of it he handed it off to one of Milt's people so it could be boxed up and taken back to Langley for deeper analysis. It was an old trick of the KGB to use books as keys to decipher coded messages. There was also a 9mm H amp;K P2000 with a silencer. Rapp inspected the weapon, turning it over in his hand and checking it from several angles. It was spotless, but not from cleaning. Rapp guessed the weapon had been fired fewer than a hundred times. There were a few disks that were coded. They were sent straight over to Milt so he could begin working on them with Marcus Dumond back at Langley. Other than that, there were a few files, 10,000 euros, and a fake passport and matching credit card. All said, there was nothing that was going to tell them where Abel was right now.

Rapp had attempted, briefly, to interrogate the big guy, but he began screaming like all hell and Rapp had been forced to pistol-whip him across the side of the head to shut him up. The guy was just coming out of it and Rapp was anxious to try again. He wanted to find out just who in the hell he worked for.

Coleman came up and tapped him on the shoulder. "You might want to come talk to her."

"What's up?"

"She's talking about some place that didn't show up on any of our checks. Some Alpine house. I guess it's a mountain retreat that her boss uses to get away."

"Has she ever been there?"

Coleman shook his head. "I guess he's pretty private about it, but over the years, she's heard bits and pieces."

"Does she know where it is?"

"Not specifically, but she says it's in the Tyrol Region near a city called Bludenz."

Before Rapp could ask just where in the hell Bludenz was, Milt Johnson's voice came squawking over the secure digital radio. "Mitch, are you there?"

Rapp had taken out his earpiece. The radio was clipped to his belt. He snatched it and thumbed the talk button. "What do you need, Milt?"

"Did I tell you this guy dropped one hundred and twenty-five grand on a brand-new Mercedes a week ago?"

"No."

"Well, I think I just found it."

Rapp stared at the radio for a second and shook his head. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Not yet. You're supposed to ask me how I found it."

"Milt, how did you find it?"

"I'm glad you asked me that. These high-end cars all come with GPS. We hacked into the Mercedes database, entered the vehicle number that we got off the registration, and came up with the car's GPS locater. I kicked it over to the NSA this morning and they just let me know where the car is."

"Let me guess…it's parked at the Vie

"No. It was actually parked in Zurich, but six minutes ago it started moving."

Rapp paused and looked at the little black radio again. "Where is it headed?"

"South is all they said. Out of the city."

Rapp didn't press the transmit button right away. He knew Zurich well and was trying to picture what lay south of the city. The lake was dead south. Everything flowed around it either to the east or west. He hit the button. "Is the car headed southeast or southwest?"

It took a few seconds for Milt to reply. "Southeast."

Rapp's mind was racing ahead. Southeast was either the Austrian border or Italy. "Milt, I'm on my way over. Get me a fast helicopter, and find out who we have on the ground in Zurich."

Rapp clicked off and looked at Coleman. He pointed at the bound Saudi on the floor. "He's coming with us. Tell them to get that box back up here and get him down in the van ASAP."

78

Abel was not worried about tracking devices. The car was new, and it had been stored and covered at a local garage while he was gone. There was no way for anyone to know that he had kept the car there. Still, his years of spycraft made him cautious. On the way out of Zurich he got off the autobahn twice and doubled back. When he was absolutely sure no one was following him, he set out for his destination like a rocket. The 493 hp engine propelled the silver Mercedes down the Swiss autobahn at speeds sometimes approaching 150 mph. That was only on the straightaway, though. The police were fine with fast driving, but not reckless. When he made his way into the mountain passes, the winding, climbing, and then falling road caused him to reduce his speed greatly. The trip from Zurich to Bludenz took two hours and forty-seven minutes.

Abel pulled into the quaint town and was immediately hit with a feeling of melancholy. He loved this place and it made him sad that he would be denied its simple pleasures because of some sadistic Saudi and a crazy American. On impulse, he stopped the car in front of the small grocery store. He was hungry and he might as well pick up some of his favorite foods. Abel walked in the front door, and a bell chimed to a

The butcher was standing at his post behind the meat counter, a fresh white apron tied around his waist. Abel watched him carefully for any type of reaction, any hint that strangers had been in town asking about him. Who knew what the Americans might do? With their new war on, it was very possible they would alert Interpol and the state police in both Switzerland and Austria.

The butcher smiled warmly at him. He looked Abel directly in the eye and although he did not know the customer by name, he told him it was good to see him again. This was all a relief to Abel. He was one step ahead of the people looking for him. He asked for several links of sausage and then picked up some vegetables, a few small wedges of cheese, milk, fresh coffee, a couple of pastries, and a few eggs. By the time he checked out, he was considering spending the night. He knew he shouldn't, but he also knew this would be the last time he would see his beloved Alpine house for some time.

Abel drove the silver SL 55 AMG Mercedes up the switchback road with the sunroof open and the windows down. It was chilly outside, but he didn't care. It felt so good to breathe in the clean mountain air. Abel would miss the majestic views and the quaintness of the village. If only there was a way to stay, to simply hide out here in the Alps and hope that no one discovered him. Petrov knew about the place, though, and the Americans would eventually find out that Petrov had been his handler all those years ago when the Iron Curtain still divided Europe.