The Last Man by Vince Flynn

you know Rick became the de facto paymaster for this reintegration program?”
    Rapp was surprised by the news. “I thought State was running that cluster fuck.”
    “They were the lead agency, but they didn’t have the wherewithal, or I suspect the guts to actually shake hands with this collection of misfits, so the president asked Irene if we could help out.”
    “And she said yes.”
    “That’s correct, so Irene has a little more leverage on all of them this time around since they all signed on. Maybe they’ll be more cooperative.”
    “I won’t hold my breath.”
    “None of us expect you to which is what we need to talk about. This meeting that’s about to take place . . . Irene wants you to keep a low profile.”
    “Why?”
    “She’s working directly with the Sec Def and the Sec State to keep their people in line. The White House is helping out and she thinks she can get all of them to basically close their eyes and cover their ears for the next seventy-two hours.”
    “Fine by me.”
    Nash pressed. “She doesn’t want you to pick any fights.”
    Rapp scoffed and shook his head. “With who?”
    “With anyone.”
    “What about that Sickles dumbass?”
    “She wants me to handle him.”
    “Really,” Rapp said with a raised brow, “then you’d better keep him away from me.”
    Nash knew this wouldn’t be easy and dancing around the issue would only make it worse. “Listen . . . everyone knows you’re point on this, but you have a history of not playing nice on the playground with the other kids.”
    Rapp heard the first MRAP roll through the gate, shook his head in frustration, and said, “Spit it out. I’m not in the most patient mood this morning.”
    “You’re never in a patient mood, so I need you to slow down for a second . . . hear me out. There’s going to be a woman in this meeting . . . Arianna Vinter . . . have you heard of her?”
    “No.”
    “She’s from State . . . she’s the one who came up with this whole reintegration business. Apparently she’s a real ball buster . . . very connected and she’s not afraid to chew ass.”
    “Wonderful.”
    “Yeah . . . well Irene thinks you two are going to have a problem.”
    “Why would you guys want to put me in a room with this woman?”
    “Believe me, Irene thought long and hard about it.”
    “Then why don’t I just skip it?”
    “We thought about that, but Irene wants them to understand how serious this is, and she wants them to all know that we are running the show until the White House says different.”
    “Then I don’t see a problem.”
    “Irene’s not so sure. She doesn’t want you getting distracted and she thinks this Vinter will do exactly that.”
    This was the type of stuff that drove Rapp nuts. In the best of times he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the feelings of some State Department bureaucrat, but now in the midst of one of the worst debacles the Agency had seen in decades, his fuse was so short, he was ready to explode. He pointed his finger at Nash and was about to unleash a torrent of expletives when Coleman rolled up and interrupted him.
    “Mike, how was your flight?” Coleman extended his hand.
    “Fine.” Nash shook his hand and then pointed at Rapp with his thumb. “I’m just trying to calm down our friend.”
    “Don’t waste your time. Where’s Stan? I need to talk to him.”
    For no apparent reason other than the mention of Stan Hurley, Nash’s demeanor melted into a mask of concern at the mention of the man who had trained both him and Rapp.
    Rapp picked up on it immediately. “What’s wrong?”
    “He’s not going to be making the trip.”
    “Why?”
    Nash looked at the ground for a few seconds and then said, “He got some bad news while you guys were in the air.”
    “What kind of bad news?” Rapp asked.
    “Cancer.”
    “Shit,” Rapp said under his breath. “His lungs?” Stan Hurley had smoked for more than forty years.
    Nash nodded. “Stage four. They’re giving