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Back Enemy at the Gates Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
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  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. More from the Authors
  56. ABOUT THE AUTHORS
  57. Novels by Vince Flynn

“I stopped to tell you something, man. And there’s no reason for me to lie anymore, right? So, you should take this seriously. None of this shit matters. Just Claudia, Anna, Irene, and Scott and the guys. That’s it. Everyone else is just waiting to stab you in the back. That’s what I’ve learned traveling the world’s conference rooms. We all die and, in a few years, no one will remember we even existed. Nothing we do means anything.”

“Do you have a point?”

“Yeah. I do. Make peace with the president, Mitch. Even you and Irene can’t stand against the storm that’s coming. I know you don’t want to join him, but at least be smart enough to back away. And while I know you haven’t listened to me much over the years, you should think about what I’m telling you. It’s good advice.”

He raised his sidearm until the barrel was tucked under his chin.

“Mike! No!”

But it was too late. The gun sounded and he collapsed to the jungle floor.

EPILOGUE

WEST OF MANASSAS

VIRGINIA

USA

RAPP increased the speed of the rental car’s windshield wipers and then notched up the air-conditioning. Through the mist, the road outside felt strangely foreign. He’d driven it a thousand times before but now he was a trespasser in his own home. In his own country.

He’d flown into a private airport in Maryland a few hours ago, using a private jet Claudia had rented through a web of offshore corporations. The passport was one of the fakes from the safe house in Riyadh and the credit card number he’d used for the car belonged to a Slovenian export business.

He was starting to wonder if he really existed. Was he the patriotic Agency man? The Iraqi national renting a nondescript Airbnb in Riyadh? The South African living with his brand-new family among the vineyards of Franschhoek?

Maybe none of them. Maybe one day all the fronts, aliases, and lies would collapse and he’d find out there was nothing behind them. His quest for anonymity would prove so successful that he’d become a ghost before his time.

When he pressed the button on his remote, the gate leading into his neighborhood didn’t respond. He had to get out and open it manually, unable to shake the idea that it was sending him a message.

The rain was already starting to soak through his suit as he slid back behind the wheel and pulled through. A few blocks later, he passed a parked GMC Yukon that immediately pulled out to follow him. Deeper into the subdivision, he could see the glow of the spotlights illuminating the walls of his house, but that wasn’t his objective.