He and Cooke proceeded across the lobby to the elevator bank. There were more stares and one person who tried to approach him, but Fournier kept his eyes front and center and pushed through. Fortunately, the middle elevator was available. He pressed the top button and in less than a minute they were on the top floor of the six- floor hotel. At the far end of the hall Max’s bodyguard was standing post outside the hotel’s nicest suite.
“Hello, Omar,” Fournier called out. “Sorry we’re late.”
Omar didn’t smile. He stepped forward and in very choppy French said, “Open your jackets.”
“Must we always do this, Omar? This is my country, after all.”
“Rules,” was all he said.
After he was done making sure they weren’t carrying guns, Omar pulled out a key and opened the door. Fournier entered first, with Cooke just a step back. They moved into the large main room, where Max was casually reclined on one of the three sofas.
“Max,” Fournier said enthusiastically. “Good to see you.”
“Yes,” Max said with a wink and a nod toward the TV. “I see you have had a very rough day.”
Fournier dismissed the comment with a scoff. “In this business, Max, I have weathered far worse.”
“Yes, I’m sure you have.” Max turned to Cooke and extended his hand. “I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time.”
“And me as well,” Cooke replied.
“Please sit. Is there anything I can get either of you?”
“No, thank you,” Fournier answered for both of them. “We just finished lunch and we’re on kind of a tight schedule.” He sat on one of the big sofas and Cooke sat down next to him.
“I see.” Max took the insult in stride and sat across from them. “So you would like to get down to business.”
“That would be great. As you know, thanks to your friend Samir over there, I have some other problems I’m trying to deal with.”
Cooke hadn’t noticed the man with the bandage on his face until now. He smiled at him but received no warmth in return.
Fournier asked, “Where is Rafique?”
“You’ll be pleased to know he is getting the plane ready. As soon as we are done with our business we will be departing the country.”
“I am very happy to hear that. Thank you.”
“So,” Max said, looking at Cooke, “you have something for me.”
“Yes, I do, but I would like to see the money first.”
“Of course.” Max looked over his shoulder. “Samir, bring the money.”
“I assume mine will be wired as per my usual instructions,” Fournier said.
“Of course. My personal secretary will handle everything as soon as I make the call.”
“Good.”
Samir came back with a large briefcase and set it on the table between the two sofas. He popped the clasps and showed Cooke the money.
“One million dollars, and another million in a Swiss bank account,” Max said. “Now I need the information you promised.”
Cooke smiled and retrieved a folded envelope from his jacket pocket. “His name is Mitch Rapp. I have a photo in there. Known addresses. He has a mother who is terminally ill, but he has a brother who could be used as leverage.”
CHAPTER 48
RAPP and Hurley were parked four blocks away from the Hotel Balzac. Hurley was behind the wheel and Rapp in the front passenger seat. Rapp had seen Kennedy and Hurley argue more times than he could count, but he’d never seen anyone raise his voice with Stansfield, let alone argue with him as openly as Kennedy and Hurley had done. And to make the entire matter stranger, Hurley and Kennedy were for once in agreement. Stansfield was intent on coming with them to the Hotel Balzac, but Hurley had threatened to resign if his boss set foot outside the Embassy compound. There was a chance this could be nothing more than a simple surveillance mission, but it could also be something far more dangerous and complicated. Stansfield couldn’t be anywhere near it. It was bad enough that the damn deputy director of Central Intelligence was off screwing his country, they didn’t need to add to the list the deputy director of Operations getting arrested. Stanfield finally relented and gave Rapp and Hurley permission to go out without him.
They were both dressed in suits and ties and Rapp was carrying a new passport and credit card as well as the ID and gun he’d taken from the wounded DGSE agent.
Rapp had also put in blue contact lenses and added a goatee to try to match the general appearance of the DGSE agent. If anyone looked closely, he’d discover that Rapp was not the man in the photo, but if he needed to use it he wasn’t planning on anyone looking closely.
Ridley and his people were three blocks away on the other side of the hotel in a surveillance van. Rapp and Hurley were getting a live feed from the devices they’d planted on Cooke. The plan was to record everything that was said, allow Cooke to incriminate himself, and then quietly grab him when he was dropped off at his own hotel.
Cooke and Fournier took a long lunch, so Rapp and Hurley were in position by the time they arrived at the Hotel Balzac. They’d heard the conversation outside the restaurant and now they were listening to the introductions inside the room. Rapp was taking everything in stride until he heard his name. He and Hurley looked at each other at the exact same time while they heard Cooke saying, “He attended the University of Syracuse and was recruited by Irene Kennedy. She happens to be a very close confidante of Thomas Stansfield and is someone else you could
