Transfer of Power (Mitch Rapp, #3)

by Vince Flynn

Lieutenant Commander Dan Harris held on to one of the straps at the front of the boat and checked the compass strapped to his wrist.

Dan Harris, Annapolis class of ’81, was somewhat of an oddity. He was both cultured and uncouth, temperamental and unflappable, angry and calm, emotional and logical, compassionate and ruthless—he was, in short, whatever the situation dictated.

Bill Schwartz, the president’s national security adviser, entered the room with Dr. Irene Kennedy from the CIA.

Rapp laughed at the thought of his father telling him to “Suck it up,” as he had done countless times throughout Rapp’s youth. It had gotten to the point where Rapp’s father would say the three short words with a smile on his face. The short phrase had grown from words of criticism into words of encouragement.

It seemed that the less someone knew, the more forcefully he tried to state his case.

The short, fat man looked up with a large grin, his nicotine-stained teeth topped by a pointy nose and a graying mustache. Goggles hung from his neck and a pair of orange ear protectors were perched atop his head, giving him the appearance of a plump rodent.

The stubborn half German had just recently figured out that instead of fighting the system, it was often better to say yes and then go off and do whatever you thought was best.

Independence and self-reliance were great things. The best part about them was that the only person who could let you down was yourself. The downside, which she was now experiencing, was that you woke up one day and realized you had either pushed everybody away or not allowed anyone to get close enough. Either way, you were left with a lonely existence.

Coming from the old Vince Lombardi school of “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser,”