NINE.

    Rapp was shown into the Oval Office by one of the President's aides. He found his boss, Irene Kennedy, and General Flood, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, sitting alone on one of the couches with a series of folders spread out on the coffee table.

    Rapp could tell instantly that Kennedy had broken the news to the four-star general. The stony expression on the soldier's face said it all.

    It was hard enough to lose men in battle but it was beyond infuriating to know that it could have been prevented.

    Rapp decided that given the subject at hand it was better for him not to speak. Before he had a chance to sit, President Hayes entered his office with a cortege of aides trailing him. At over six feet tall with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, Hayes stood out in a crowd, and like most men who had reached his station in life, he exuded a real magnetism.

    The men and women who worked for him wanted desperately to please him. Hayes unbuttoned his suit coat as he strode toward his desk. By the time he reached it the coat was off. He turned to face the three aides who were arguing about the administration's education bill.

    Hayes held up his hands, palms out, and the three fell silent like well-disciplined kids obeying their father.

    As Rapp watched the exchange take place he noticed, not for the first time, that the President had gained a little weight. It was a subject the two men had discussed on several occasions. Rapp, a former tri-athlete still worked out six days a week and watched his intake closely.

    The President had confided in him that he was very wary of what his job was doing to his health. After all his official duties, which there was scarcely enough time for, there was still the Democratic Party and its incessant need to raise money.

    Barely a day passed when there wasn't a fund-raiser of some sort, and where there was a fund-raiser one could always count on lots of food and booze. Rapp had designed a bare-bones workout plan that the President could do in forty-five minutes. The goal was to do it five days a week, first thing in the morning. As Rapp looked at the President's expanding waistline, he had a feeling the man had been skipping his workouts.

    "I don't want to talk about this anymore," said the President firmly.

    "By the end of the day I want you all on the same page. If the three of you can't come up with a consensus, this thing will be dead before it reaches the Hill." One of the aides tried to get in a last word, but the President cut her off with a terse motion toward the door. The three left the room dejectedly and closed the door behind them.

    Hayes dropped into his chair and picked up a pair of reading glasses from the desk. After quickly glancing over his schedule, he pressed his intercom button and said, "Cheryl, I don't want to be interrupted for the next fifteen minutes."

    "Yes, Mr. President," came the always even reply of his gatekeeper.

    Hayes looked up and waved for his three visitors to join him.

    "Pull up a chair. If you don't mind, I have to look over a few things while we talk."

    Kennedy had called the meeting and she didn't object. She knew once the President heard what she had to say, she'd have his rapt attention.

    As they settled in, the President picked up a document from his desk, scanned it and then moved it to another pile. Looking over the top of his reading glasses he said, "Mitchell, you look tan and rested. I trust you had a nice honeymoon? "The President smiled.

    "Very nice, thank you, sir."

    "Good." Getting down to business, Hayes turned to Kennedy and said, "I get the impression that whatever it is you have to tell me, it's not good."

    "That's correct, sir."

    Before Kennedy had a chance to elaborate, the door to their left flew open and the President's chief of staff entered the room with a big cup of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a cell phone and stack of files precariously balanced in the other.

    "Sorry I'm late."

    Rapp leaned forward and shot his boss a questioning look. He mouthed the words, What the hell is she doing here?

    Kennedy made a calming motion with her hand and ignored Rapp.

    Kennedy's cool attitude did nothing to still Rapp's apprehension over Valerie Jones. She was a pushy and obnoxious political operative.

    If she were a man she would be referred to as a tough bastard or prick, but since she wore a skirt to work she was simply called a bitch. Rapp couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been at odds with the woman. Her first reaction at the onset of any potential crisis was to ask how it would affect the President's poll numbers. It drove Rapp nuts that every issue had to be parsed, muddied and then spun.

    Putting Rapp in a room with Jones was like one of those crazy chemistry experiments where you started pouring different things into a beaker knowing full well there would be an explosion, and ultimately a mess to clean up. With Jones now in attendance it was highly likely that Rapp's mood would go from sour to downright shitty.

    Before the meeting was over things would get ugly between the two, and Kennedy was counting on just that. For things to work out the way she hoped, everyone needed to play their role, and in the end, she was confident where the President would come down. Irene Kennedy had learned many things from her old boss, Thomas Stansfield.

    He had been fond of reminding her frequently that they were in the secret business; both collecting and keeping.

    Common sense dictated that the less one talked the more likely it was one would learn secrets rather than give them away. He also liked to say the outcome of a meeting is often decided before a single word is spoken. It is decided by who is asked to attend. That was exactly what Kennedy had had in mind when she invited Jones.

    The woman could adopt a passive attitude if she absolutely had to.

    If a foreign head of state was visiting the White House she might tone her act down, but that was about it. Valerie Jones was an obsessive-compulsive workaholic who lived and breathed politics. It was her life.

    She wanted to be involved in every decision, for in the arena of politics, anything the President attached his name to would ultimately affect his chances for reelection.

    Nudging a small bust of President Eisenhower out of her way, the President's chief of staff plopped her files down on the corner of his desk. Neither Rapp nor General Flood made an effort to get her a chair. In the PC. world of D.C. politics both knew such a gesture could be misperceived, and they might get their balls chewed off. And besides, neither of them liked Jones enough to make the effort.

    When the chief of staff was settled, the President looked at Kennedy and said, "Let's hear it."

    The ever placid Kennedy cocked her head slightly and brushed a strand of her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear. As had been the case all too often lately, she was the bearer of bad news.

    "Mr. President, General Flood informs me that you've been fully briefed on the failed hostage rescue in the Philippines."

    "Yes," answered the President in a sour tone, "and needless to say I'm not happy about it."

    "I'd like to remind everyone," interrupted the President's chief of staff, "that I thought that entire operation was a bad idea from the start."

    Ignoring Jones, Kennedy held up one of the two red folders and said, "I think I can shed some light on what went wrong, sir."

    Hayes, his curiosity piqued, placed his forearms squarely on the desk and said, "I'm all ears."

    "In this file"-Kennedy held up her left hand-"I have a list of e-mail and telephone transcripts. You will remember that before launching the rescue operation we decided that for reasons of operational security our embassy in the Philippines would not be notified until the teams and the hostages were safely extracted."

    Jones had just finished taking a sip of coffee and began to shake her head vigorously.

    "Again, I'm on the record as saying that was a bad idea. We're going to be smarting over that one for some time. This thing is a real mess. The press is getting more curious by the hour. The press office has already received three calls this morning, the Philippine government is demanding answers and our own State Department is furious."

    The President also chose to ignore Jones for the moment and stayed focused on Kennedy, saying, "I remember the issue was hotly contested."

    Without looking up, General Flood grumbled, "And you made it very clear, sir, that our embassy was not to be notified."

    The President was caught a little off guard by the general's tone.

    The soldier was in an unusually foul mood, which was very out of character.

    "Sir," said Kennedy as she opened the file and handed the President the first page.

    "This is the transcript of an e-mail that was sent by Assistant Secretary of State Amanda Petry to Ambassador Cox. In it she clearly states the time and date the operation was to commence."

    Kennedy gave the President a second to look over the text and then handed him another piece of paper.

    "This is Ambassador Cox's reply asking for more specifics, and this is Amanda Petry's reply that outlines the rescue operation in detail." Kennedy handed him the third sheet.

    The President looked over the documents in silence, and a frown slowly darkened his expression as each word hinted at what may have happened, and the twisted dark road where this might take him.

    Patience not being one of her virtues, Jones got up from her chair and stood over the President's shoulder. She began scanning the documents and trying to make sense of what Kennedy was up to.

    Pulling his reading glasses down to the tip of his nose Hayes looked at the director of the CIA and said, "This is serious stuff."

    Before she could answer Jones said, "The State Department is going to be livid about this. Beatrice Berg is a living legend… are you out of your mind?" Jones was referring to the recently confirmed Secretary of State, who was quite possibly the most respected person in Washington. She was currently in Greece leading a delegation that was trying to jump-start the Middle East peace talks.

    Kennedy nodded and said, "Valerie, none of us are happy about this."

    "No," said Jones in an icy tone.

    "I'm not talking about the operation.

    I'm talking about you spying on State. You can't just go around intercepting State Department cables. I mean, are you insane?" Jones's face twisted into a scowl as she tried to calculate the damage that would be done if this were leaked to the press.

    "Ms. Jones," General Flood gruffly replied.

    "It is routine business for the NSA to intercept embassy traffic. And beyond that I don't think the State Department is in much of a position to complain about anything."

    "General, I don't like this any more than you do," the President's chief of staff said a little defensively, "but the State Department will not take kindly to being spied on by the CIA, the NSA or whoever."

    "Tough shit," answered Rapp before Flood or Kennedy could say a word.

    All eyes turned to Rapp, who was sitting on the opposite side of the desk. Jones, not one to be intimidated easily, said, "I beg your pardon?"

    Rapp's dark penetrating eyes were locked on to the President's chief of staff.

    "Two sailors are dead and at least two more have had their careers ended due to the injuries they've suffered. Lives have been destroyed, Valerie. Children will never see their fathers again, two women have been widowed, and we still have an entire family of Americans held hostage in the Philippines, all because a couple of diplomats couldn't keep their mouths shut."

    Jones snatched one of the pieces of paper from the President's desk and defiantly shook it.

    "This is not conclusive."

    Rather than waste his time screaming at Jones, Rapp looked to Kennedy, anticipating the evidence that would silence the President's right-hand woman.

    Calmly, Kennedy said, "Sir, there's more. After receiving the heads-up from Assistant Secretary Petry, Ambassador Cox phoned Philippine President Quirino." Kennedy handed the President a copy of the conversation.

    "An hour after that conversation took place Ambassador Cox arrived at the Presidential palace where he stayed for approximately thirty minutes. We don't know what was said between the Ambassador and President Quirino, but shortly after the Ambassador left, President Quirino placed a phone call to General Moro of the Philippine army.

    "As I'm sure you're aware, General Moro has been in charge of trying to track down Abu Sayyaf for the last year. He has repeatedly promised that he will free the Anderson family and deal harshly with the terrorists. On two separate occasions the general has had Abu Sayyaf cornered only to have them miraculously escape. Our military advisors in the region began to smell a rat and the DOD asked us to put the general under surveillance. This was over five months ago."

    Kennedy opened the second folder and handed the President a fresh set of documents.

    "It turns out General Moro is not such a good ally after all. We didn't know it at the time, but he was a very active advocate of kicking the U.S. Navy out of Subic Bay. He wields great influence in a country where bribes are a way of life. We found several bank accounts, one in Hong Kong and the other in Jakarta. It looks like the general has been in the pocket of the Chinese for the better part of the last decade, and more recently we think he began extorting protection money from Abu Sayyaf."

    Jones scoffed at the idea.

    "You mean to tell me that a bunch of peasants running around in the jungles over there can scrape up enough money to bribe a general in the Philippine army?"

    "That's exactly what I'm saying," replied an even-keeled Kennedy.

    "That's one of the most ludicrous things I've ever heard."

    Kennedy resisted the urge to tell Jones that if she'd paid attention to her intelligence briefings she'd know that the idea was far from ludicrous.

    People in Washington had long memories and another thing Thomas Stansfield had taught her was to avoid making it personal.

    "Abu Sayyaf is not just some poor group of peasants. They receive millions in funding from various Muslim groups throughout the Middle East. Much of it comes from Saudi Arabia."

    The President did not want to get into that mess right now so he focused his gray eyes on General Flood and asked, "Was General Moro informed by us of any aspect of the rescue mission prior to it being launched?"

    "No," answered Flood.

    "For reasons that are all too apparent, the plan was to keep the Philippine army in the dark until we were on our way out with the Andersons." Flood shrugged.

    "We didn't trust them enough to bring them in on it and if we didn't ask for permission, they couldn't say no."

    The chief of staff rolled her eyes and said, "I'd hate to think what the U.S. Army would do if a foreign country conducted a military operation on American soil without our permission."

    Rapp leaned forward, almost coming out of his chair entirely and looked angrily at Jones.

    "They wouldn't have to, because we'd never allow a group of terrorists to kidnap foreign citizens in the United States. We'd go kick the door down and solve the problem before you even had enough time to collect polling data."

    Jones stood and crossed her arms defiantly.

    "Mr. Rapp, we're all aware that you are predisposed to using violence to solve a problem, but I would like to ask you where that has gotten us?" Not giving him a chance to reply she continued, "Our list of allies is shrinking. These little operations that you are so fond of have alienated some of our strongest supporters. The Filipinos are going to make some serious hay out of this, our own State Department is going to be livid -with us for spying on them, and not letting them do their jobs, and before this is over"-she angrily pointed at Rapp-"you mark my words, there will be a congressional investigation into whose bonehead idea this whole thing was."

    The blood rushed to Rapp's face, though he was too tan for it to be apparent to the others in the room. He stood to face Jones eye to eye. It took all his self-control to speak somewhat evenly.

    "Valerie, you have great political instincts, but you are an absolute moron when it comes to issues of national security. Your ideas are dangerous, your logic is flawed and nothing I've heard you say here today is based on sound moral judgment."

    "Moral judgment?" she asked snidely.

    "You're going to lecture me on morality?"

    The implication was clear. Rapp was a killer and thus should forfeit his right to judge. He ignored her condescension and said, "Here are the facts' Valerie. A family of American citizens was on vacation and were kidnapped by a well-known terrorist group that is a self-admitted sworn enemy of the United States. We now know that the Philippine general in charge of freeing those hostages is taking bribes from the terrorists who hold them. We know that a decision was made to use U.S. Special Forces to free the hostages. That decision was completely legal and made by none other than the commander in chief." Rapp pointed at the President.

    "Part of those operational orders were that neither our embassy in the Philippines nor the Philippine government were to be informed of the rescue operation. Two senior State Department officials willingly disregarded those orders and as a direct result a platoon of SEALs was ambushed on a beach two nights ago."

    With her arms folded defiantly across her chest, Jones asked, "Are you done?"

    Rapp strained to keep from reaching out and slapping her. With a clenched jaw he replied, "No. This morning while you were yapping on your cell phone and picking up your triple mocha frappuccino, or whatever the hell it is that you drink, a cargo plane landed out in San Diego. Do you know what it was carrying?"

    Jones glared at Rapp with unvarnished hatred. No one, not even the President, had ever spoken to her this way.

    "No."

    "Two flag-draped caskets. Valerie. Rapp help up his fingers.

    "There were little kids, wives, and some grandparents there to meet those caskets.

    Their lives are turned upside down. The men they loved, the men they adored, the men they idolized are gone forever. They are feeling pain right now that you can't even begin to understand, and all because a couple of self-important bureaucrats over at the State Department couldn't keep their damn mouths shut!" Rapp's eyes were filled with rage.

    "If I had it my way' Valerie I'd march Ambassador Cox and Assistant Secretary Petry out in front of a firing squad and have them shot."

    Jones flapped her arms and roared, "I can't believe I'm hearing this." She looked around for someone to second her opinion, but no one backed her up. Dumbfounded, she looked back at Rapp and said, "I think you've lost it."

    "I lost it a long time ago' Valerie and I could give a rat's ass what you think of me. I've been on that beach thousands of miles away. I've crawled out of the surf wondering if I'm going to catch a bullet right between the eyes." Rapp marked the spot with his index finger.

    "I've seen a helicopter filled with young men blown from the sky because an arrogant senator couldn't keep his mouth shut."

    Jones's arms were again folded across her chest and in a disinterested tone she said, "I'm well aware of what you've done for a living."

    Rapp stood with his feet firmly planted, seething with anger.

    "I can take a lot of crap from people, Valerie, but one thing I can't stand is a lack of gratitude. I'm one of those guys on the beach getting shot at, trying to do the right thing, risking it all for love of country, duty and honor. Words that mean nothing to you. I've been there and you haven't." He pointed at her.

    "No Starbucks coffee, no dinners at Morton's, no warm baths. Just a lot of bugs, salty MREs and the comforting thought that there are a lot of self-centered Americans who will never be able to appreciate the sacrifice you've made.

    "So, yeah, I guess I've lost it a bit," Rapp said in a calmer voice, "and that's why I'm not going to let you protect those arrogant assholes over at the State Department. The CIA had Ames, the FBI had Hanssen and now the State Department is going to have Cox and Petry. Things are going to get real uncomfortable for the Ambassador and the under Secretary, and that piece of shit General Moro is going to get his, I can promise you that."

    Jones still stood defiantly and asked for a second time, "Are you done?"

    Rapp's face actually broke into a smile. He looked at the President for a moment. Hayes was notorious for letting his aides battle it out.

    His motto was that he'd rather get it all out in the open than let it fester under the surface.

    Looking at Jones, Rapp thought, I can't believe I actually saved this woman's life. Shaking his head, he said, "I've got one last thing to say. If it wasn't for me' Valerie you'd be dead." Rapp turned and started for the door. Over his shoulder he said, "So I'd appreciate a little more gratitude. "When Rapp reached the door he opened it and looked back at Jones.

    "Oh, and by the way, you'd better figure out how you're going to spin this when it breaks, because I'm not going to stay quiet."