The Last Man by Vince Flynn Page A

you come in here and screw up a year’s worth of work because you’re upset that one of your black-bag guys got kidnapped. No fucking way that’s going to happen. So let’s be real clear about this. I don’t want you two going to the bathroom without asking me for permission first. You don’t talk to anyone who’s involved in reintegration unless I clear it. Do you understand me?”
    Rapp raised his hand as if he was waiting to be called on by his teacher.
    “What?” Vinter asked.
    “I have the answer to your question . . . I think you’re an imbecile. There could be some underlying psychological issues as well but I’d need to spend more time with you, which isn’t going to happen. Beyond that, I’m pretty sure you’re stupid.”
    Vinter’s even complexion became blotchy with anger. “Don’t fuck with me. I’m not going to warn you again. You two are not in charge. I’m in charge around here. I make one phone call and your lame ass is on the next military transport out . . . in fact I’ll make sure it’s one of those big ones with all the props that makes you feel like you’ve been in a blender.”
    “A C-130,” Rapp said, “the vibration helps me sleep.”
    “I don’t give a shit if the vibration gives you a hard-on. One wrong move and you two are gone.”
    “Listen,” Nash said, “we’re all on the same team.”
    “I’m not on your team,” Vinter said with absolute conviction.
    Rapp turned his attention to the CIA station chief. The fact that he had decided to sit on the other side of the table spoke volumes about him. “Did you bother to brief her on who we are?”
    Sickles cleared his throat. “I gave her some basic background.”
    “That’s it?”
    “More or less.”
    Nash dropped his head into his hands and waited for what was about to happen. There could be no blaming Rapp this time. This woman had clearly picked the fight. Rapp knew Sickles was holding back. They’d revisit all of this later when they could keep it within the family and Rapp would remind Sickles in a very persuasive way where his loyalties were supposed to lie. But for now Vinter was the problem. He looked across the table with his near black eyes and said, “Do you like your job?”
    “Let me guess . . . this is the part where you’re going to ask me a bunch of questions and then threaten me. Well, I’ll save you the time. You can’t threaten me. I’m untouchable. I’m the president’s point person in Afghanistan. I run the show here.”
    “There’s a few generals and an ambassador who might disagree with you, but I don’t have the time to argue with you. If you’re in charge, all the better. We need you to hand over everything that you were working on with Joe Rickman.”
    “That’s not going to happen. It’s highly classified information.”
    Rapp shook his head in semi-disbelief. “You do realize we’re the CIA? Our job is classified information.”
    “Not my classified information.”
    After nodding a few times, Rapp stood. “So there’s not going to be any cooperation?”
    “I told you the deal. You two don’t move without talking to me first. We’ll see how you behave and then we’ll revisit the cooperation.”
    Looking at Sickles, Rapp asked, “Have you briefed her on how serious this is?”
    “She understands the situation and she also knows about your reputation. We’ve worked long and hard on reintegration and none of us are too happy to see you barge in here and begin destroying everything we’ve accomplished.”
    Rapp stared at Sickles for a long moment. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He pointed at the station chief, snapped his fingers, and then hooked his thumb toward the door. “You’re done. Get out the hell out of here. I’ll come find you in your office when I’m done.”
    “You have no right to—”
    “Darren,” Rapp yelled, “shut your mouth. I have every right. I have the DCI’s full backing on this and I swear to God, if you’re not