The Third Option   ::   Flynn Vince

As Cameron neared the dirt road, he veered off the path and found his transportation. Underneath some camouflage netting was a black BMW K 1200LT motorcycle. Cameron folded up the netting and placed it in one of the saddlebags. Then, after wheeling the bike back out onto the path, he put on a helmet and started the sleek machine. Its powerful headlamp lit up the path ahead. As it purred to life, he climbed on and slipped the bike into gear. Cameron slowly moved onto the dirt road and turned toward the cottage, in the opposite direction from the way the Jansens were headed. If everything went according to plan, he'd see them at the airstrip in another twenty minutes. The mission was a success.

HIS EYELIDS FLUTTERED and then snapped open. Mitch Rapp tried to focus, but his vision was blurred. His senses were coming back slowly, one at a time, like a computer booting up programs. His sense of smell came on-line first, the burnt odor of gunpowder filling his nostrils, and then there was a thumping noise, coming from where he did not know. Slowly, he let out a noise that started as a groan and ended as a growl. Rapp tried to move, but the pain was excruciating – in both his head and his chest.

He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where he was and what was wrong. The glaze on his eyes began to clear, and then it hit him. Rapp's first reaction was to try to sit up. His head was barely an inch off the floor when sharp pains shot through his chest, forcing him to give up. Looking back at the ceiling, he brought his right hand up to his chest and felt under the folds of the heavy black leather coat. He pulled his gloved hand out and looked at it for signs of blood. The leather was dry – no blood. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Rapp rolled onto his left side, and from there he got up on one knee and looked around the room.

«That fucking bitch,» he mumbled to himself. His head was still cloudy, but things were coming back to him. Rapp ran his fingers along the outside of the leather jacket and felt the two slugs that had been caught by the Kevlar liner. Rapp remembered them asking him in the cottage if he was wearing any body armor. The way they asked the question at the time seemed unusual, and now he knew why. Thank God she didn't shoot me in the head, he thought.

Remembering that he had started his stopwatch when they passed through the gate, Rapp looked at the watch to find out how much time had passed. He stared in disbelief as he realized he had been out for nearly four minutes. A new sense of urgency kicked in as he looked at the other bodies strewn about the room.