Chapter 49
YOU couldn’t have stopped it.”
Stan Hurley made the statement in the matter-of-fact way one might remark on the weather.
It’s going to rain so bring an umbrella.
A statement light on nuance and heavy on inevitability.
You might wish the sun had come out today, but it’s clouds as far as the eye can see.
Deal with it. But to Rapp, nothing about what had just transpired at the hotel felt inevitable.
“I got her killed,” Rapp said.
Hurley nudged the Fiat to the left, edging past slower-moving traffic before sliding back into the right lane just in time to turn west on Via Nazionale.
The sedan’s tiny engine labored to keep up with Hurley’s demands as he pressed the vehicle for more speed.
He wasn’t racing away from the scene of the crime, but he was certainly putting distance between them as rapidly as possible.
A police cruiser zoomed by, heading in the opposite direction. Its wailing siren echoed off the multistory apartment buildings lining the street.
Hurley let Rapp’s comment hang in the air as he passed through another intersection before turning left to head south on Via Milano.
Rome’s streets were a treacherous warren of winding avenues that resembled a plate of spaghetti thrown against the wall.
Even so, Hurley navigated through them unerringly in a manner that didn’t attract attention but didn’t waste time with unnecessary U-turns or backtracking.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Hurley said. “I got your warning and passed it to Irene. She made sure the Kuwaiti ambassador’s team knew about the heightened threat level. The ambassador decided to go ahead with the event anyway. If anything, your presence gave her a fighting chance.”
While Rapp appreciated Hurley’s sentiment, he didn’t share it. The cluster of torn bodies sprawled across the hotel’s entrance might not have happened if he’d been smarter.
“I was the decoy,” Rapp said. “I should have seen that coming. No way they would have trusted a high-profile assassination to an unknown like me.”
Hurley shook his head. “You’re giving these shitbags too much credit.
These are the same animals who strap bombs onto people.
They encourage children to throw rocks at Israeli soldiers in the hopes they’ll be shot.
Trying to puzzle out their strategy is like trying to understand why a scorpion stings.
The little fucker jabs its stinger into anything within reach because it’s a scorpion and that’s what scorpions do.
End of story. Besides, you’re not the only one who should have put two and two together. ”
Rapp looked at Hurley. “What do you mean?”
“My training operation for prospective Orion team members turned real in a hurry. A shitbag tried to kill me. I got some intel from him that led me to what I think was a front company.”
“Was?”
Hurley nodded. “The degenerates inside blew the place to hell before I could ask questions. Sound familiar?”
Rapp frowned. “Just because a building blew up in Dubai doesn’t mean—”
“Come on, kid. Gimme a little credit. I had a long and detailed conversation with the shooter who tried to bag me. He was protecting a bomb-making cell from Westerners who might be foreign intelligence officers. I disrupted a murderous bomb-making cell. The Kuwaiti ambassador gets blown up in Rome. Either the puzzle pieces fit or we’re looking at one hell of a coincidence. ”
Rapp considered that. It wasn’t the kind of evidence that would sway a jury, but he and Stan weren’t in the business of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. “Your guy didn’t know the specifics, or you couldn’t get it from him?”
Hurley gave him a hard stare. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”
Rapp’s lips twisted into a smile. He’d just been operationally knocked ass over teakettle, but if he had to start over from scratch, he was glad to be working the problem with Hurley.
Stan was a great operator—smart, tough, and utterly ruthless.
The longer he was in this business, the more Rapp was beginning to understand the importance of that third characteristic.
“Your guy is a dead end, the bomb-maker cell is history, and my undercover work came up dry. So, where’s that leave us?”
Hurley grinned. “Cheer up, cupcake. We’ve still got one thread left to pull, if you’ve got balls enough to grab it.”
“What do you mean?”
“In all likelihood, your cell has cleared out too, but we don’t know that for sure.”
At first, Rapp didn’t get it. Then he did.
“The mosque?”
“Give that boy a sticker. Hell yes, the mosque. To be clear, the safe play would be for the two of us to unass this country before the Italian police can tie your alias to what happened at the hotel. If you want to take that route, you’ll get no pushback from me.
I think we can assume that these douchebags executed their operation here.
If they have something else planned, it’s not gonna take place in Italy.
But thinking isn’t the same as knowing. So, what’s it gonna be, hotshot? ”
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”
Hurley smiled.