Page 105 of Denied Access
Everything.
“What do you need?” Rapp said.
“Get to the airport and buy a ticket with a clean legend.”
“Where?”
“Doha.”
CHAPTER 57
DOHA, QATAR
ASsafe houses went, this one wasn’t the worst Rapp had inhabited.
Neither was it the best.
The apartment complex was a blocky design with a focus on functionality rather than aesthetics. Each unit had a balcony, two bedrooms, a single bathroom, and a living area adjoining the kitchen. The furniture was plain but serviceable, the floors were clean, and the air-conditioning kept the apartment at a reasonable temperature. Club Med it was not, but indoor plumbing and a toilet that flushed put the place light-years ahead of Beirut. Funny how this was the comparison to which he always returned.
Funny, but understandable.
Beirut had been his baptism in fire.
Rapp looked from where he was lying on the apartment’s sofa to the clock hanging on the wall and then to the cell phone resting on the coffee table in front of him. His sense of time and circadian rhythms were both hopelessly off. Doha was only two hours ahead of Zurich, but the sheer amount of traveling he’d done over the last several days was wearing onhim. Starting with Barcelona, Doha was the sixth city he’d visited in less than a week, and if he knew Hurley, not the last.
Thinking of his mentor prompted him to check the cell for missed calls. Only two people had the new device’s number, and neither was supposed to use it except for emergencies. Then again, the past couple of days had been one emergency after the other. To add insult to injury, neither Hurley nor Greta was known for following instructions. The Nokia’s LCD display remained reassuringly blank, and Rapp was considering a catnap when a knock sounded at the apartment’s door.
Rolling off the couch, Rapp stood as his fatigue vanished.
A length of wood that had until recently served as the handle to a rubber toilet plunger leaned against the sofa. He snagged the improvised baton and crossed the tiled floor to the apartment’s door. As per Hurley’s request, he’d traveled to Doha on the first available flight from Zurich using a new legend. While this had allowed him to arrive at the city most expeditiously, the rapidity of his travel meant there had been no time to arrange for Rob Ridley’s advance team to preposition an operational cache with documents, money, and, most important to him at the moment, weapons. Rapp had made do with what was available, but if the person on the other side of that door wasn’t Stan Hurley, the ensuing melee would be pretty one-sided.
Sidling up to the entrance, Rapp switched off the apartment’s lights and positioned himself to the right of the door frame so that the door could swing open unimpeded. After waiting for the agreed-upon knock pattern to sound a second time, he unlocked the dead bolt. “It’s unlocked.”
The door swung open, and Stan Hurley stepped inside.
“Hey, kid,” Hurley said, his eyes unerringly tracking to Rapp despite the room’s dim interior. “Nice stick. Gimme a hand.”
Hurley tossed a messenger bag to Rapp before closing the door behind him and locking it. He pulled a doorstop from the plastic bag in his hands, dropped it to the floor, and wedged it in place. “That’s better.”
“What else did you bring?” Rapp said.
“Something more suited for the job than a broom handle. Open the bag.”
Rapp undid the satchel’s metal buckles and dumped the contents on the coffee table. Most of what tumbled out appeared to be the makings of a new legend—passports, credit cards, pocket litter, and currency.
Most, but not all.
The two plain belts that fell onto the table seemed out of place, but Rapp wasn’t fooled. Grabbing one of the lengths of leather, he twisted the buckle and pulled, revealing a matte-black three-inch blade.
“Composite material,” Hurley said. “It’ll pass through an X-ray machine.”
Rapp turned the blade over in his hands before resheathing it. “Not bad. Are there pistols in your other bag?”
“Nope. Can’t take those where we’re going.”
“Where’s that?”
“Moscow.”
