Page 80 of American Assassin (Mitch Rapp 1)

BEIRUT, LEBANON

RAPP was in his boxers, pistol at his side, staring at the door of the apartment and trying to decide what to do. It was dark and he had no idea how long he had slept. Whoever was trying to get into the apartment had picked the lock. Rapp raised the pistol and took aim. Either that or he had a key. He eased his finger off the trigger. Maybe it was a nosy landlady, or Hurley was testing him. No, it wouldn't be that. If they were still in training it would be something he'd gladly try, but not in the thick of it like this. For all he knew, Rapp might use it as an excuse to shoot him.

Rapp stayed in the hallway that led to the bedrooms so he could use the wall as cover. The door started to move and then stopped. The rubber stop he'd placed underneath it was doing its job. The door opened a crack and Rapp heard someone saying something, whispering as if they were talking to someone else. But then Rapp heard, "Hey ... Open up," in English.

Part of the problem was that he had no idea how long he'd slept and consequently what time it was. He had awakened with a start as he heard some soft knocking on the door, followed by the sound of metal on metal, and now whoever was out there was talking to him and getting louder.

"Hey, shithead ... Open the damn door. We've got big problems."

The contraction of we have was what caught his attention. It was not Hurley or Richards so the we thing threw another level of mystery into the equation.

"I know you're in there. Open this fuck

ing door, so I don't have to break it down."

Rapp quietly crossed the room on the balls of his feet. The door was cracked about an inch. "Who is it?"

"Fucking Goldilocks. We've been compromised. Open the door. I need to get you the hell out of here."

Rapp's heart started trotting. Goldilocks ... compromised ... What the hell was going on? "What's the password?" Rapp heard the word shit followed by a heavy sigh.

"I'm not part of your merry little band. I don't know the password." There was a pause and then, "There's a leather case in the bedroom closet with a few handy things in it. You're probably holding one of the silenced Berettas right now. I'm the guy who put it there."

Rapp frowned. "Were you in Istanbul a week ago?"

There was a pause and then, "Yeah ... was that you?"

"Nice little garden flat with alley access."

"Case was in an armoire."

"With a pillow and blanket on top," Rapp said.

"Bingo."

"Let me close the door first and then I'll let you in."

"Roger."

Rapp pushed the door closed and kicked the doorstop out of the way. With his pistol in his right hand he opened the door and then stepped back, holding the gun in a two-handed grip. The guy entered the room and closed the door behind him. He was wearing brown pants, brown shirt, and brown baseball hat. Where had Rapp seen that outfit before?

The visitor dropped the box he was carrying and raised his hands. "Kid, could you lower the gun. If I was a terrorist I would have blown the damn building up."

Looking over the iron sights of the Beretta, Rapp said, "A few more questions. What's going on?"

"You've been compromised. I was ordered by Washington to come get you."

"Who?"

"Irene."

Rapp lowered the gun. "Why?"

"Follow me," the man said as he picked up his box and started for the bedroom. "Stan and your other buddy were picked up at their hotel this morning."

"This morning?" Rapp asked, dumbfounded. "What time is it?"

"Almost six-thirty. They were grabbed by the cops and then handed over to those assholes from Islamic Jihad."

---