Page 67 of Extreme Measures (Mitch Rapp 11)

“No, ma’am. I find your directness rather refreshing.”

“I would appreciate that same directness from you when you answer my questions.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Crimes committed,” Lonsdale, repeated, “are you in agreement, Mr. Rapp, that you have broken several laws?”

“We are not in complete agreement, but I can respectfully see where you would think that I have committed a crime, or several crimes.”

Lonsdale was slightly surprised by Rapp’s apparent willingness to answer her. “Well, let’s just start with the first one. Striking a United States Air Force officer…is that a crime?”

Rapp had already denied striking Captain Leland but answered Lonsdale’s question anyway. “I agree that it is a crime, but I did not strike the man.”

“If I call you before the Senate Judiciary committee, will you answer that same question, or will you plead the Fifth?”

Without hesitation, Rapp said, “I will honestly answer your questions, Madam Senator.”

There was a quiet rumble of voices as Lonsdale’s colleagues shared their surprised opinions. “So,” Lonsdale pressed, “you will not take the Fifth.”

“I have no desire to take the Fifth, ma’am.”

“Let’s leave desire out of this,” Lonsdale said. She was used to working with lawyers and got the feeling the word would provide Rapp with some wiggle room. “You’re telling me right now that you will freely testify before my committee and will not invoke your Fifth Amendment rights?”

“Yes, I am.”

The shock caused by Rapp’s openness swept over all of them. Every senator took a moment to look at each other and share their surprise. No one was more astounded than Lonsdale. She’d had it in her mind for some time now that she would have to drag Rapp before her committee and beat his brains out while he stubbornly refused to incriminate himself, which in a way was just fine with her. CIA employees had a nice history of looking guilty while they pleaded the Fifth. This sudden change, however, was even better.

Lonsdale directed her glare at Kennedy and said, “How about you, Director Kennedy? Will you testify before my committee or will you be exercising your Fifth Amendment right?” Her voice dripped with disdain.

“Like any American citizen I will reserve my right to exercise the Fifth Amendment.”

Lonsdale shook her head in an overdisappointed manner. She looked back to Rapp. “So, Mr. Rapp, if I ask you about your interrogation of Abu Haggani, an Afghani in the custody of U.S. forces, you will not take the Fifth Amendment?”

“I will answer your questions, ma’am.”

Rapp’s responses were so unexpected that Lonsdale wasn’t sure where to go. Sensing this, her chief of staff leaned forward and touched her shoulder. Lonsdale turned toward Wassen, who cupped a hand over her ear.

“No sense in bringing anything up here where they can classify it. Keep your powder dry until you get them in front of your committee.”

Sound counsel as usual, Lonsdale thought to herself. She nodded and then looked over at Bob Safford and said, “No, further questions, Mr. Chairman.”

CHAPTER 45

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

NASH homed in on the tennis ball hanging from the rafters of the garage like an F-18 pilot focusing on a rain-swept carrier deck. The garage was designed for two cars, but not two cars, three bikes, a couple of strollers, an old trike, scooters, razors, skateboards, and every stick and ball known to mankind. The tennis ball kissed the windshield and Nash threw the gearshift into park. Safe in my garage, he thought. Maybe I’ll just stay here the rest of the night. But as much as he’d like to just check out for a few days, he wanted to see the kids.

He climbed out and went around and got the groceries out of the back. At the back door he set one bag down and checked the handle. It was unlocked. His blood started to boil. He’d told the whole damn family a hundred times that the doors were always to be locked. He opened the door and carried the groceries through the mudroom and into the kitchen, where he found his ten-year-old son sitting a mere foot from the TV eating a bowl of cereal. Nash set the groceries down and went back to the mudroom, where he closed and locked the door and then opened his pistol safe. He pulled the black paddle holster and gun off his hip and stuck it in the safe.

By the time he got back to the kitchen his fourteen-year-old daughter, Shannon, was waiting for him with Charlie in her arms. She looked just like her mother. Beautiful ivory skin with thick, shiny black hair. “Hi, Dad.”

Nash kissed her on the cheek and asked her how her

day was. Rather than answer him, she extended her arms and handed him Charlie. “Mom was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago. I’m late for play practice.”

Just like that, she was gone with her backpack out the mudroom door.

Nash looked into the smiling eyes of young Charlie and from across the room heard, “I think he has a bomb in his pants.”

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