Or at least Rapp wanted to believe this was the case.
But sometimes he wasn’t so sure. At this moment, he wanted to reach across the table, snare the preening Iranian in a cross-collar choke, and squeeze his throat’s soft tissue until the Quds Force officer’s eyes bulged.
Instead, Rapp asked the obvious question.
“How?” Rapp said.
A smile lit the Iranian’s face.
“You see?” Ruyintan said. “Even adversaries can find common cause when it comes to killing Americans. Tell your organization that we have something that can change the course of the war in Afghanistan. Something that will be as impactful there as our improvised explosive devices were in your country.”
When it came to impulse control, Rapp was something of a savant, but this shitbag was putting even his legendary skills to the test. Rapp had visited the military’s burn center at Fort Sam Houston in Texas. He’d seen the results of Ruyintan’s handiwork up close. Amputations were horrific, but disfigurements caused by the molten slugs generated by the Iranian’s explosively formed penetrators, or EFPs, were in a class all their own. He’d spent time with a CIA colleague who’d sustained third-degree burns over 50 percent of her body after an EFP had detonated beneath her vehicle.
Her face had been rendered unrecognizable.
A cross-collar choke was too good for Ruyintan.
Instead, Rapp envisioned a spear hand to the throat to get the colonel’s attention, followed by blunt-force trauma to his cranium. When it came to payback, nothing beat a good old-fashioned head-bashing. Strategic intelligence was all well and good, but sometimes the instinctive response that came with spotting a cockroach was the correct one—smash its crunchy body into the floor.
Rapp would get the pertinent information from this Quds Force murderer.
Then he would kill him.
“What something?” Rapp said.
The Iranian’s smile grew wider even as he shook his head. “I’ve always found deeds preferable to words. In light of the history of mistrust between our organizations, I propose a show of good faith instead. A demonstration.”
“What kind of demonstration?” Rapp said.
“An unmistakable one. Within the hour, I expect our handiwork to be the topic of discussion on every Western news channel.”
The part of Rapp’s mind dedicated to battlefield calculus did the operational math. Six bodyguards, but only two of the minders had their attention focused on the table. Two-to-one odds were not great, but Rapp had done more with less.
Could he kill Ruyintan before the Iranian’s minders intervened?
Yes.
Would he be able to extricate himself afterward?
Probably, but the ensuing mayhem wouldn’t be pretty.
Unfortunately, killing Ruyintan was no longer Rapp’s primary concern. The peacock was being deliberately cagey. While Rapp could wring the details from the Quds Force operative if given enough time, Rapp needed the man alive and in a mostly functioning state in order to conduct a proper interrogation. This precondition took assassinating the Iranian outright off the table.
Time to change the equation.
With an exaggerated look at his Rolex, Rapp got to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Ruyintan said.
The Iranian’s Cheshire cat grin was gone, replaced by another expression.
Worry.
“You’ve already made me miss one appointment,” Rapp said. “I don’t intend to miss another.”
For a moment, the Iranian’s mask dropped.
Though Rapp had never met Ruyintan before, the face now staring back at him was one he recognized.
The face of a killer.
Then, the fake smile returned.
“Fine,” Ruyintan said. “I will tell you what is about to happen, but take care with the information.”
“I understand the concept of operational security,” Rapp said, still standing.
“Of course you do,” Ruyintan said, “but you mistake my meaning. The details I’m about to provide are known to no one outside my organization. No one. This means it will be very easy to isolate the leak should what I tell you become more widely publicized.”
Ruyintan’s hard expression left no doubts about how he intended to deal with such a leak, but Farid Saeed wasn’t a man who was easily intimidated.
This was a trait Rapp happened to share with his fictional persona.
“You came to me,” Rapp said.
“I did,” the Iranian said, “but at the moment I’m having trouble remembering why.”
Rapp made as if to slide around the table, but stopped when Ruyintan held up his hand.
