“So you’re denying that man is CIA?” the taller of the two asked in a stern voice.

“Listen,” Nash said, “I think you two need to calm down.”

Rapp did a quick scan of the room. He found everybody on his team except Dumond. He looked again and still couldn’t find him. Unsure of whether this was a good sign or a bad sign, Rapp turned his attention back to the conversation.

“Calm down?” the older man asked more forcefully. “This is my damn base, Mr. Nash. If that man is CIA and he is impersonating an officer, I’m going to throw both of you in lockup.”

That had to be General Garrison. Rapp straightened up, cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, and yelled, “What in God’s name are all you people doing here? This facility is in lockdown.”

One by one, heads turned and feet shuffled as everyone did a 180 to meet the new voice of authority. General Garrison eyed Rapp warily and asked, “And you are?”

“Who I am is not what’s important. What is important is that this facility is off-limits until oh seven hundred.” Rapp motioned from one side of the room to the other. “None of you are authorized to be here right now.”

“By whose authority?” asked the man standing next to the general.

Rapp took note of the two bars on the collar and said, “The secretary of defense, Captain.”

“Why weren’t we informed?”

“I don’t think the secretary of defense feels the need to go around explaining himself to captains,” Rapp growled. He directed his attention to the general and said, “Sir, I suggest for your own good that you vacate this facility and let me do my job. Trust me… this is not something you want to get in the middle of. Whoever got you out of bed didn’t do you any favors.”

General Garrison turned and gave Captain Leland a hard stare.

“Sir,” Leland said, “this man is CIA. I will stake my entire reputation on it.”

Rapp saw movement to his right, but didn’t want to look. He hoped it was Maslick leading Dostum and the others toward the door. “Your reputation is not what’s at stake here, Captain. It’s the general’s career.” Rapp turned his glare back to Garrison. “There are some very important people in Washington who are waiting for me to finish what I was sent here to do.”

“Does that include impersonating an officer in the United States Air Force?” Garrison asked.

Rapp didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“How about beating a bound prisoner to a bloody pulp?” Leland asked.

“That’s it,” Rapp growled. “Everybody out of here.” He turned away from the two officers. “I need to have a word in private with the general and his aide.” Rapp began shooing people down the hallway toward the exit. Everybody moved except Nash.

“Slow down there,” the captain said, “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving orders around here.”

Rapp turned on him before he could say anything else, like telling the MPs to stay put. “General, I suggest you tell Dudley Do-Right here to shut his piehole. What I have to tell you is highly classified. The president, the secretary of defense, and only a few others have been briefed. I can’t very well tell a roomful of enlisted servicemen.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Rapp told the others to get moving and then said to Nash, “You too.” Rapp mouthed the words Get on the plane.

Nash shook his head. “No.”

“Don’t argue with me.” Rapp grabbed Nash by the arm and started walking him down the hallway. In a low voice, he added, “Get back to D.C. I can handle the political heat… you can’t. Tell them you verified the third cell and get Mohammad transferred to our custody.”

“Mitch, this is serious shit.”

“I’ve been in far worse. I’ll talk my way out of it.”

Nash looked back down the hall at the two officers and said, “Don’t count on it. That Leland is a real pick.”

“I’m not exactly easy to get along with,” Rapp said with a grin. “Just get everyone on that plane and get the hell out of here.”

CHAPTER 15

THE two officers watched the mystery colonel lead the CIA man down the short hallway, where they stopped and exchanged a few words. Without taking his eyes off them, Captain Leland said, “Sir, I don’t like this. I don’t trust these spooks.”

“It can’t hurt to hear him out.” Garrison had finally shaken the sleep from his head. The drastic swings of fate had helped push the dull fog away and he was now operating on a level that was more appropriate for command. The fog of war was not localized to combat, he thought. Only moments ago, his entire career had flashed before his eyes, corkscrewing downward in a tailspin that would surely result in a spectacularly tragic fireball. Now he was confronted with something entirely different. He watched the two men speak. He had never liked the idea of these spooks lurking around his base. They were insolent bastards who seemed to be always looking for a way to cause trouble, but they were more important to this fight perhaps than any other in modern history. The one wearing the rank of colonel turned and was coming back to them.

“Sir, I think you should lock him up.”

Garrison put his hand out in a silencing gesture. “I want to hear what he has to say first.” The idea that the man might really be doing the bidding of the president was worth exploring.

“Don’t expect the truth.”

“It won’t hurt to listen to him, Captain.”

“General,” Rapp announced as he stopped a few feet in front of them, “I apologize for all of this, but this is a difficult situation.”

“There’s no excuse for what we saw you doing to that prisoner.”

“Captain, when I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“This is a United States Air Force base. You have no authority to tell anyone on this base to do a thing. I suggest…”

“I suggest you shut your fucking mouth,” Rapp snapped, “I’m a GS-Sixteen, Captain, so that makes me the equivalent of a flag officer. I’m a special advisor on terrorism to the director of the CIA, the director of National Intelligence, and the National Security Council. I’m on a first-name basis with the secretary of defense, and the president has me on speed dial, so unless you’re a hell of a lot more important than your entirely unimpressive appearance or those two bars would lead me to believe, I suggest you butt the fuck out and let me talk to the general.”

Leland’s complexion flushed with embarrassment. Rapp, feeling like he had finally got his point across, looked at the base commander and said, “I want to start off by apologizing for all of this. My methods aren’t pretty… Alerting you about what I was up to was not something you would’ve welcomed.”

“You were just going to sneak in and sneak out?”

“Yes.”

“And I would be left in the dark.”

“Your judgment would be left intact.”

“And the marks on the prisoner? How would I explain that?”

“That was not intended. He tried to bite me.” Rapp looked up at the monitor, as did the two officers. Haggani was still tied to his chair. His blood-streaked face looked horrible. Rapp grimaced and offered, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks bad, Mr…?” The general left the question unfinished.

Rapp wavered and then thought, What the hell, I’m in deep enough already. “Rapp… Mitch Rapp.”

“You work for the CIA?” Garrison asked.

“That’s right.”

“You’re a spy,” Leland said.

“Counterterrorism specialist.”

“What exactly does that entail?” the general asked.

“It involves dealing with people like that.” Rapp pointed at the screen.

“Dealing,” the general repeated the word, “that’s pretty vague.”

“We walk in different circles, General. I don’t expect someone who puts on a uniform like yours to ever fully condone what I do. You guys have to have your rules… your discipline. You need that to remain an effective fighting force. Me… I’m the guy who sneaks out under the wire late at night and crawls up next to these guys and cuts their throats.”