clear?”
“Oh, I’m reading you loud and clear.” Wilson was sick of being kicked around by this old fool. “Are you still recording our conversation, because I want to make sure you get this part. I didn’t tell you any of this because I can’t trust you. Because the entire Counterintelligence
Division knows that you’re too close to Director Kennedy, and based on what I’ve experienced the last few days I’m inclined to believe those rumors. So you better get ready for your own board of inquiry.” Wilson spun around and whipped Patterson’s phone against the wall. “Fuck.” He collapsed on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, trying to figure out how everything had gotten all twisted around. Hargrave was an idiot. The Clandestine Service was filled with crooks-Rickman,
Rapp, and probably dozens of other officers. Senator Ferris had shown him the numbers; almost a billion dollars in cash had passed through the Clandestine Service and into the hands of all of these corrupt warlords, drug dealers, and politicians. The system was rife with corruption and Wilson had the evidence to prove it. There was only one reason why Hargrave would do this, and it was to protect Kennedy. Wilson had no choice but to return to D.C., but he wasn’t going to do it quietly. Senator Ferris was no slouch. They shared a belief that the
CIA had been given too much power and not enough oversight after
9/11. That was going to change. Once the people found out that these crooks were stealing taxpayer dollars, Hargrave, Director Miller and all the other assholes would get dragged up to Capitol Hill and have to explain how they interfered with his investigation, and then the Senate would clean house. After that, Wilson could write his own ticket and they could all kiss his ass.
Chapter 35
Kennedy caught Rapp’s doctor just as he was about to start his morning rounds. Major Nathan was a thirty- five-year-old neurosurgeon who spent two weeks of every month at Bagram and the other two at Sloan-Kettering in New York. He had a surprisingly affable bedside manner, for a brain surgeon. “Good morning, Major. Do you have a second to chat?”
“I was just heading to see Mr Cox.” The major smiled. “I don’t suppose that’s his real name?”
In a rare moment of honesty, Kennedy shook her head. “I was wondering if you could tell me how he’s doing?”
“Much better. According to his recent scars, there’s been a drastic reduction in swelling.”
“Do you think he’s ready to fly?”
Major Nathan winced and shook his head, “These head cases are tricky, they’re all unique. Some patients bounce back after a few days, some people never bounce back.”
“So he could fly if he had to?”
The major sighed. “If he absolutely has to, yes, but I’d like to give it a few more days.”
Kennedy frowned.
“What’s the problem?”
“I can’t really talk about it, but let’s just say Mr. Cox is extremely good at his job and we need him.” Kennedy wanted him back, but she also wanted to put Rapp somewhere where Joel Wilson couldn’t get his hands on him.
The major had immediately recognized Kennedy when one of the nurses had brought her into his office the day before. She explained politely that his newest patient was one of her top operatives. Nathan had already guessed that Mr. Cox was no mere analyst. It was standard procedure for the staff to cut the clothes off emergency patients since they only got in the way. Mr. Cox had no open wounds, but Nathan counted three bullet holes and a scar that looked like it had come from a knife. Even the nurses commented. His battle scars, combined with his rock-hard physique, made the deduction simple. Nathan had rotated in and out of Bagram for nine straight months. He had pretty much seen it all. Or at least he thought he had. Mr. Cox was something of an anomaly.
Nathan understood that Kennedy held a unique position. If he could, he would try to help her. “Why don’t we go see how he’s doing, and then we can reassess.”
They found Rapp sitting up in his bed with a tray of food in front of him, watching an episode of Justified. After some brief pleasantries the doctor looked his chart and asked, “How do you feel this morning, Mr. Cox?”
“Better,” Rapp said, moving his head around. “No headache, and I’ve got my appetite back.”
The doctor scribbled a few notes on the chart. “That’s good. How’s your memory?”
“Pretty good.” Rapp pointed at the TV. “I know that I’ve seen this episode before and I remember most of the characters… Dewey Crowe, Boyd Crowder, Raylan Givens, Art Mullen and Dickie Bennett.”
“Good show?” Nathan asked, without looking up.
“I think I’m the wrong guy to ask, Doc. I really don’t have much to compare it to.”
Nathan laughed. “And your recall in general?”
“Seems like it’s getting a lot better.”
“All right, where’d you go to college?”
“Syracuse.”
Nathan rattled off the same questions he’d given Rapp late yesterday. Mother’s maiden name, grade school, high school, childhood best friend, and on and on. Unlike yesterday, he got them all correct today. Nathan decided to expand the list. “First job out of college?”
Rapp gave Kennedy a strange look and then told Nathan he didn’t know.
“Current job?”
“I think I’m an assassin.” Rapp watched his doctor look up with wide eyes. “I’m just kidding, Doc. I work for the CIA and if I tell you any more than that, I’ll have to…”
“Kill me,” Nathan finished the sentence for him.
“Exactly.”
Nathan glanced sideways at Kennedy. “Is he always this funny?”
Kennedy was relieved that he was coming back. She smiled and shook her head. “He’s never had much of a sense of humor.”
Before Rapp could comment, Nathan asked, “Favorite color?”
“Blue… I think.”
“Wife… kids?”
The smile fell from Rapp’s face and his entire bearing changed. He didn’t answer for a long time and then he looked at Kennedy for help.
Kennedy had been dreading this. It was hard enough to live through it once. It couldn’t be easy learning it for a second time. It was obvious from the pained expression on his face that he remembered something about the tragedy. “Your wife,” Kennedy started and then stopped.
Nathan picked up on the mood and nodded for Kennedy to continue. “All memories are important… the good ones and the bad ones.”
“I remember,” Rapp said, his voice almost disembodied. “Her name was Anna and she was pregnant.”
Kennedy nodded slowly.
Caught up in the story, Nathan asked, “How did she die?”
“I don’t think we want to talk about this right now.”
Rapp looked up and said, “She was murdered.”
“I’m sorry,” Nathan answered softly.
There was a long silence and then Rapp began to frown as if something was occurring to him for the first time.
“What is it?” Nathan asked.
Kennedy thought she knew what it was and she stepped forward. “I think this is enough for now.”
Rapp shook his head as if trying to free a jumbled thought. “There’s a face. A man I know, but I can’t remember his name. He has something to do with my wife, but I can’t make it connect.”
Kennedy chastised herself for not consulting with Dr. Lewis. Thomas Lewis was their in-house psychologist. He had worked very closely with Rapp over the years, and it was likely that he could offer insight about how they
