Executive Power by Vince Flynn Read Free Book Online

that was a bit more obvious was that Alan wasn't really reading the paper.
    Out of sight, but within reach, was a small control panel with an array of dials. Plugged into this control panel was an earpiece. Alan at first listened intently to the conversation that was taking place between the Prince and his visitor, manipulating the various controls in an effort to boost the effectiveness of the directional microphone concealed at the top of his mast.
    He had dropped anchor the morning before just off the port beam of the Prince's massive yacht, placing one other boat between his and the Prince's. Under orders from London, he'd been loosely shadowing the Prince for over a week. He'd even gotten to know a few of the crew members in the process. The captain of the ship was a retired French naval officer, as was much of his crew. Like most mariners, they were friendly to other sailors. While picking up provisions back in San Remo, Alan found out the ship was headed for Monte Carlo and then on to Cannes, a very common trip for the big yachts. Alan let it be known that he was headed in the same direction, so they'd probably be bumping into each other along the way. Things had progressed now to the point where the crew knew him on sight and waved as they went back and forth to shore in their power launch.
    Headquarters was famous for being skimpy with the information they gave to their people in the field. They'd told Alan only to follow, observe, record and report. They didn't tell him why they wanted him to baby-sit Prince Omar, but then again, they didn't really need to.
    Alan knew enough about the dysfunctional House of Saud to know what his government was interested in.
    The conversation that was taking place on the big ship didn't appear to be what they were after, and the dashing young man who had arrived less than an hour ago didn't fit the profile of an Islamic fundamentalist.
    With this in mind Alan checked his dials one more time to make sure everything was being recorded and then he began to read his paper, only half listening to the conversation that was going on in his left ear.
    With the sun quickly warming the cool morning air, Alan let out a yawn and crossed his left leg over his right. The voice of a woman drew his attention away from the paper and he looked across the water to see what was going on. From his vantage point all he could see were the tops of several heads, and then a blond beauty came into view near the back of one of the upper sun decks Without warning she dropped her robe and stretched her pale arms above her head, revealing a very nice pair of breasts. Alan lunged for his binoculars, but by the time he got them up she was gone. He laughingly shook his head. He was slowing down in his old age.
    He was still smiling as he went back to his paper, and then slowly, his face turned more serious. The conversation between the Prince and his visitor had without warning gone from mundane to quite noteworthy.
    Alan checked again to make sure the equipment was recording and then he went back to feigning interest in the paper. Whoever this David was, he would have to get some photos of him when he climbed back on board the launch to return to shore. As the two men continued their discussion, Alan decided that London would be very interested indeed in his next report.

SEVEN.
    Mitch Rapp drove across the Key Bridge on his way to a meeting at the White House. His mood was tense and his patience short. He was not happy about what he'd learned this morning. The honeymoon was over. He'd been back in town for less than twenty-four hours and he was already looking to wring someone's neck. Ignoring his boss's orders, he'd left his bodyguard back at Langley and driven himself. He'd had some death threats lately, quite a few of them in fact, but despite the danger he needed some time alone to think before he met with the President.
    He'd promised himself that he wouldn't allow his new position of influence to be