JК
The Third Option :: Flynn Vince
Страница: 34 из 267Rapp glimpsed the fork and, downshifting, shot up a small hill and into the woods.
It was a little over a mile to the first paved road. Rapp eased off the accelerator, reminding himself that the twenty or thirty seconds gained by racing through the woods would be quickly negated if he slammed into a tree. As the car bounced its way along the winding, rutted path, Rapp began to run through his options. Denmark was one hundred miles to the north, and the Netherlands was one hundred miles due west. Rapp wasn't crazy about going to either country. The subtle nuances of their language and culture were not second nature to him as they were in the countries to the south. Italy was an option. There was someone in Milan, someone who had been special to him once. Kennedy knew about her. She was former Mossad, Israeli intelligence, and still might be, for all Rapp knew. People in his line of work were never fully retired. Intelligence agencies had a way of hanging on to you whether you wanted them to or not. But Rapp could trust her. They had a bond that went beyond oaths to countries and organizations. They were the same person. Rapp knew I he couldn't go to her, though. Not now, not with Anna in the picture. If he went to Milan, he would end up in her bed. Milan would have to be a last resort.
France was the best choice. Rapp had safe deposit boxes in Paris, Marseille, and Lyon. Boxes no one at the Agency knew about. In France, there were friends he had made through his consulting business and his days as a triathlete, people he could trust from a life he had intentionally kept secret from his handlers. Not even Kennedy knew about the precautions he had set up.
Rapp downshifted into second gear and maneuvered the car through a sharp turn. The road snapped back around to the left and continued its meandering way through the forest. As he plotted the course ahead, he thought about Irene Kennedy. What was it in her voice when they had talked? Could it have been guilt over sending him to his death? Rapp shook his head. That was impossible. They were like family. Kennedy would never set him up. It had to be someone else, but who? Very few people knew about the Orion Team, and even fewer knew about this mission.
The car finally reached the firm traction of black asphalt. Rapp looked to the north and then the south. He hesitated for only a second and then turned the car toward Hanover, away from Hamburg. The E4 autobahn was only four miles away, and once he got there, Rapp could be on the other side of Hanover in less than forty minutes. From there, it was another hour and a half to Frankfurt.
It was a little over a mile to the first paved road. Rapp eased off the accelerator, reminding himself that the twenty or thirty seconds gained by racing through the woods would be quickly negated if he slammed into a tree. As the car bounced its way along the winding, rutted path, Rapp began to run through his options. Denmark was one hundred miles to the north, and the Netherlands was one hundred miles due west. Rapp wasn't crazy about going to either country. The subtle nuances of their language and culture were not second nature to him as they were in the countries to the south. Italy was an option. There was someone in Milan, someone who had been special to him once. Kennedy knew about her. She was former Mossad, Israeli intelligence, and still might be, for all Rapp knew. People in his line of work were never fully retired. Intelligence agencies had a way of hanging on to you whether you wanted them to or not. But Rapp could trust her. They had a bond that went beyond oaths to countries and organizations. They were the same person. Rapp knew I he couldn't go to her, though. Not now, not with Anna in the picture. If he went to Milan, he would end up in her bed. Milan would have to be a last resort.
France was the best choice. Rapp had safe deposit boxes in Paris, Marseille, and Lyon. Boxes no one at the Agency knew about. In France, there were friends he had made through his consulting business and his days as a triathlete, people he could trust from a life he had intentionally kept secret from his handlers. Not even Kennedy knew about the precautions he had set up.
Rapp downshifted into second gear and maneuvered the car through a sharp turn. The road snapped back around to the left and continued its meandering way through the forest. As he plotted the course ahead, he thought about Irene Kennedy. What was it in her voice when they had talked? Could it have been guilt over sending him to his death? Rapp shook his head. That was impossible. They were like family. Kennedy would never set him up. It had to be someone else, but who? Very few people knew about the Orion Team, and even fewer knew about this mission.
The car finally reached the firm traction of black asphalt. Rapp looked to the north and then the south. He hesitated for only a second and then turned the car toward Hanover, away from Hamburg. The E4 autobahn was only four miles away, and once he got there, Rapp could be on the other side of Hanover in less than forty minutes. From there, it was another hour and a half to Frankfurt.