Consent To Kill

Abel looked back on it all and wondered where he had made his mistake. Was it when he agreed to take the job from Saeed? Was it when he pushed the assassins and threatened to hunt them down? At the time, it seemed like his only option, but looking back on it now, it had been a foolish and emotionally inspired move. He had no idea who they were, and they knew far too much about him. It was clear now what they had decided. He had threatened them, and rather than hunt him down themselves like the man said he would, they decided to put the CIA and this monster Mitch Rapp onto his trail. It was a brilliant move on their part, and one that Abel should have foreseen. His second mistake was leaving the money in the accounts. He should have moved it. It pained him to no end to think that he had let eleven million dollars slip through his hands.

Abel rounded the last switchback. There was no guardrail, just a tiny stone ledge and then a steep drop over the edge. His place was ahead on the right. The tires left the pavement and moved onto the crushed rock |of his driveway. He skidded to a stop in front of the house and looked around. It appeared at first glance exactly as he had left it. He grabbed the keys and got out, standing there for a moment, looking back up the hill through the thick branches of the pine trees and the golden fall leaves of the aspens. Other than the slight rustle of dry fall leaves there wasn't a sound.

Abel left the groceries in the backseat and entered the house. He locked the door behind him and went straight downstairs. The house was built into the side of the mountain, so the basement had an earthy, musty smell. A single door with triple windows offered a shaded view of the valley. The deck from above cast a shadow. It was not quite 4:00 in the afternoon. The German went to a door at the back of the basement, opened it, and turned on a light.

A furnace and water heater sat in the far corner. The cement floor was painted a burnt red and was cracked. Skis and poles were hung on a set of pegs. Boots, gloves, goggles, and hats, and a variety of other outdoor accessories were neatly placed on two shelves. A wood pallet with paint cans stacked on top sat in the corner opposite the furnace. Abel grabbed one of the slats and dragged the pallet to the middle of the room. He took a small crowbar hanging on the wall and wedged the straight end into a small crack in the floor. A small section roughly the shape of Australia rose above the rest of the floor. Abel stuck his free hand under the lip and grabbed hold. He tossed the crowbar to the side and slid the section out of the way, revealing a large floor safe. He dialed the combination, jerked the handle clockwise a quarter of a turn and pulled up. He removed one black nylon bag and then a second, a third, and finally a fourth.

Everything was put back just as it had been and then he grabbed the four bags and went back upstairs. When he reached the front entryway he was breathing heavily and for a moment was concerned he'd stirred up some mold in the storage room and was having an asthma attack. He stood up straight, placed his hands over his head, and concentrated on taking deep, full breaths. After a half minute he felt better. It was nothing more than the thin mountain air. Suddenly, he remembered the groceries in the car. He was famished.

Abel threw the dead bolt and yanked open the heavy wood door. He crossed the timber porch and stepped down onto the crushed rock. He glanced to his left and right and then again up the slope of the mountain. It was his favorite place on earth. Maybe he could stay one last night. Cook a nice meal, build a fire, and sip a little cognac. He had a bottle of Louis XIII. It would be a shame to waste it. Abel made a note to clear out the wine cellar. There would be room in the trunk. He would stay the night and say good-bye the proper way.

Abel opened the back passenger door and grabbed the bag of groceries. He put them under his left arm, stepped away and closed the door with his right. As he turned to head back into the house he found himself staring down the length of a thick black silencer at the face of the last man he wanted to see. Abel dropped the bag of groceries, and said, "I can explain."

"I'm sure you can." Rapp took half a step back and then kicked Abel in the balls, dropping him to the ground.

79

It was the two exits off the autobahn and the doubling back that told them it was Abel behind the wheel. Milt had tapped into the Mercedes mainframe, and they were following the car's progress on a color screen that showed the exact road the car was on. It showed gas stations, churches, restaurants, rivers, lakes, parks, everything. As soon as the car doubled back for the second time, Rapp knew it was their man. Two of the Agency's people from the embassy in Bern had been camped in front of Abel's Zurich apartment for the better part of a day. They were pulled off their assignment and put into pursuit of a car they never caught up to.

Finding a helicopter proved more difficult than they would have thought, but that also didn't matter. An hour into tracking him, the car headed due east, straight for the Austrian border and according to the map a town called Bludenz. Milt worked the computers and found out they had a regional airport. By plane, the flight was less than thirty minutes. Rapp, Coleman and his men, and the big Saudi all took off for the airport. While in flight, Milt arranged two rental cars: a Volvo sedan and van. The vehicles were waiting for them when they landed. The only difficult part was transferring the Saudi. Rapp decided to leave him in the plane under the watchful eye of Stroble, rather than risk one of the locals seeing a bound and gagged man being stuffed into a rental car.

It took eight minutes to get from the airport into town. Milt had given them constant updates on the car's progress. It had arrived in Bludenz just before they'd landed and it had stopped for exactly seventeen minutes. It then headed north, up what Milt assumed was a residential road. He had been right. They took the Volvo slowly up the switchbacks, beyond where Milt said the vehicle had stopped. Rapp and Wicker got out and silently worked their way back down the hillside. They found the big, expensive Mercedes parked right in front of what they assumed was Abel's house. Rapp radioed Coleman to come back down and block the driveway while he picked his way from tree to tree. Wicker found a good spot and covered Rapp with a silenced special-purpose sniping rifle. Rapp maneuvered to a spot where the woods were closest to the house and then made his way onto the side of the porch and crawled to a spot near the front door. Before he could even check the lock, the door opened, swinging toward him, and then Abel appeared.

THE LIGHT WAS fading. The sky had gone from blue, to orange, to gray. Rapp stoked the logs in the large stone fireplace with a black iron poker, and then left the tip of it sitting in the midst of the blazing red coals. He took two sturdy chairs from the dining room and placed them in front of the fireplace. Coleman sat Abel in one and the big Saudi in the other. Their lower legs and ankles were duct taped to the chairs, as were their waists and chests. Both men were blindfolded and gagged. Neither knew he was in the other's presence. Rapp and Coleman had already searched the house and found nothing of interest other than the black bags, which were loaded into the trunk of Abel's Mercedes.

When Rapp was ready he asked Coleman to remove their shoes and socks and then told Wicker, Hackett, and Stroble to wait outside. When Coleman was done with the shoes and socks he gave him the option to leave. Coleman declined.

Rapp stood in front of the two men with his back to the fire. He reached out and grabbed the silver tape that covered Abel's eyes and yanked it off his face. Two thirds of both eyebrows stayed attached to the tape. Abel tried to scream, but his cry was muffled by the tape covering his mouth. Rapp yanked the tape off his mouth, and Abel began gasping for air. Rapp yanked the tape off the Saudi's eyes, and the man barely flinched. The Saudi had yet to utter a word other than when he was screaming in Abel's office and that had been because he knew his only chance was to have one of the neighboring office workers call the police. Since then he'd remained silent. Rapp could see it in his eyes. This one was a true follower. It would take months to break him, and even then the Saudi might prefer to die. That was why Rapp kept the tape over his mouth.