Transfer of Power

"I almost forgot. I have one other thing for you.

Director Tracy of the Secret Service is expecting a call from you. It appears he has some information on Dallas King that you might find interesting. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to discuss certain things involving Mr. Aziz. Stop by next week, and we'll talk more." Hayes turned Rielly toward the door and opened it for her.

Rapp sat watching the exchange, and as Rielly left the room, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He wanted to talk to her. With a frown Rapp looked back across the room.

President Hayes came walking back toward the fireplace saying, "I don't care who we have to bribe, who we have to threaten—I want Aziz's head on a silver platter. I want him taken out, and I want us to seriously explore our options for dealing with Saddam Hussein."

Hayes turned to Rapp.

"I can't thank you enough; this country can't thank you enough." The president shook his head.

"It's a shame they'll never know the contributions and sacrifices you've made."

Rapp gri

"That's all right, sir. I didn't exactly get into this line of work for accolades and recognition."

"I know you didn't, but I just wish there was a better way to repay you and properly show our gratitude."

"Just let me be the one to punch Aziz's ticket, and that'll be payment enough."

"I plan on it. Which brings me to my next point." Hayes looked away from Rapp for a second and focused on the others.

"I want every intelligence asset we can spare focusing on tracking down Aziz. Call in every marker we have. As I said a second ago, we are not going to play by the rules on this one.

I want him caught." Hayes turned back to Rapp.

"I want you to go home, and I want you to get some rest." The president began to walk Rapp toward the door.

"If we find him, I want you fresh."

"Yes, sir." Rapp shook the presidents hand and left the room. He walked out onto the front stoop of Blair House.

Bringing his hand up over his eyes, he shielded them from the light and searched the crowd. Nothing. He turned to his right and left but came up empty again.

"Can I help you find something, Mr. Kruse?"

Rapp looked down. Directly in front of him, leaning against the president's limo, was the beautiful A

Rielly pushed herself away from the limo. With a grin she said, "I have some time." Reaching her hand out, she added, "Besides, I wanted to say good-bye." She grabbed Rapp's hand and squeezed it tight. Pointing down the street, she said, "Why don't you walk me down to the corner so I can catch a cab."

"Sure." The two of them started walking toward Seventeenth Street hand in hand.

Rielly leaned away from him and asked, "So, are you ever going to tell me your real name?"

"Maybe." Rapp took a couple more steps and smiled.

"Someday after you earn my trust."

They walked in silence for a while, and then Rielly asked, "So about this life story of yours, when am I going to get a chance to hear it?"

"Whenever you want."

"I'd imagine you're going to be pretty busy for a while."

"Who knows. "They reached the corner and stopped.

"I'm thinking of taking some time off."

"Really?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

Rielly studied him for a second.

"You don't seem like the type of person that takes time off."

Rapp shrugged his shoulders.

"You'd be surprised."

"I think there are probably a lot of things about you that might surprise me."

Rapp shook his head.

"I doubt it. I'm pretty boring when it comes down to it."

Rielly looked down at their hands and rubbed her thumb along his finger.

Peeking up at him, she said, "We need to set our di

Her thumb rubbing up and down on his finger made his heart race.

"Any time you can fit me into your schedule."

"How about sometime next week."

"I was thinking about something a little earlier."

Rielly looked up with her green eyes, a soft smile spreading across her face. Rapp reached down and grabbed her chin.

Pulling his mouth to hers, he kissed her and said, "How about tonight?"

Epilogue

THE OLD MAN shuffled down the busy street. It was almost midnight, and the crowds were thi

Matted clumps of dirty gray and black hair adorned his head and a film of dirt covered every inch of exposed skin. In some cities he might have stood out, but not in Sao Paulo, Brazil. With over twenty million people, five million of whom lived in utter poverty, he was just another lost soul.

He stepped past a fellow homeless person who had curled up in a storefront doorway for the night. He was in Born Redro, the ethnic enclave of the massive city that was home to almost a million Palestinian, Lebanese, Iranian, and Arab immigrants.

His arrival in this city, of all the cities in the world, was a feat in and of itself. It had been prompted by one small piece of information.

Muttering in semiconscious delirium, Fara Harut had unwittingly given them their clue. Within minutes, a massive electronic gathering operation by the National Security Agency was under way. A KH-12 Keyhole Satellite was moved into geosynchronous orbit over the city of Sao Paulo and began recording phone conversations from the Born Retiro neighborhood. The NSA's supercomputers at Fort Mead, Maryland, sifted through the thousands of calls and kicked out the ones that matched preassigned profiles for content, tone, and voice signature. It had taken three weeks and a day, but the analysts finally found what they were looking for.

The old man continued weaving his way through the crowd, his dirty canvas bag draped over his shoulder. He marked the faces of the people he had seen on his previous visits.

He looked at their eyes and checked their waists for the telltale bulge of a weapon. That was how he had found this street the night before last. It started with one man standing in a doorway smoking a cigarette.

He had shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and when his unzipped leather jacket opened, it revealed the black steel of a pistol.

Rafique Aziz was near. Rapp could feel it When he passed the man standing guard in the doorway, he kept his head down and looked the man over closely. A few steps later, Rapp stopped and bent over to pick up a bottle cap he had dropped on a previous pass. When he stood, he looked through the small crack at the bottom of the window shade and spied two men sitting on a couch watching TV Twenty minutes earlier, Rapp had watched a sedan pull up in front of the row house and deposit a prostitute.

Rapp continued down the street and turned into the alley.

He pulled the top off a garbage can and pretended to go through it.

Fifty feet away in the darkness of the alley, the hot red tip of a cigarette glowed. Rapp had been adamant about one thing: he would go in alone. No contact with the Brazilian authorities, no electronic-surveillance vans, and no hit squads. Nothing to Spook Aziz into ru

It had taken just three days for his trained eyes to discover what all the expensive surveillance equipment in the Cia's arsenal would have missed. The simple bulge on a man's hip. With each passing garbage can, the alley grew darker and the rats more plentiful. Rapp threw a bottle in his canvas bag and looked up at the second story of the house. The shade glowed a soft yellow as a candle flickered behind it. A figure briefly moved in front of the shade. Rapp licked away the dryness on his lips and felt his heart quicken as he neared the back door.