You have said it yourself, Mr. President, we are at war. This is serious business, and in my mind the Ambassador and the under Secretary are traitors and their actions cannot go unpunished."

"I agree that they should be punished," Jones said quickly before anyone else could speak.

"I say we ship them off to the worst posting we can think of. I say we not only make them take a cut in pay, but we make them pay restitution to the families of the two dead soldiers. I say-" "Dead sailors," the general corrected her. Looking back to the President he added, "I happen to agree with Mitch. If it were up to me, I would have these two marched in front of a firing squad and shot, but I realize in today's world that will never happen. I do, however, think they need to spend some hard time in jail and they need to be publicly humiliated. They need be made an example of."

Jones, desperate to turn the tide of this conversation, weighed in once more.

"General, I'm not saying I disagree with you, but again I don't think you're looking at how this scandal will affect this administration."

"With all due respect, Miss Jones, I'm more concerned with the welfare of this republic than any single administration. The two should go hand in hand, but as you've so passionately pointed out this morning, that's not always the case."

Jones glared at the general and said, "That was a cheap shot."

"No, it was a direct shot, but if I wasn't blunt enough for you, let me spell this entire cluster fuck out for you in clear English." The general leaned toward the chief of staff and said, "This was a big operation.

A lot of military and intelligence personnel knew about it beforehand, and since it went south a lot more people know about it today." Flood stuck out one of his beefy fingers with conviction and said, "I can guarantee you, if you try to whitewash this thing, someone in uniform, or over at Langley, is going to be so offended they will talk to a reporter off the record and they will set off a chain reaction that will do exactly what you're hoping to avoid. And that's if Mitch doesn't break the story first."

"You worry about your people, general," Jones shot back, "and I'll handle Rapp."

The sheer lunacy of the comment caused Flood to roar with laughter.

"You're going to tell Mitch Rapp what to do? Let me know when and where, and I'll pay top dollar to witness that fight."

Before Jones could speak again, the President came forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his desk.

"I've made a decision." He was talking to everyone, but was looking at Jones.

"We're going to confront this thing head-on, and it's not up for debate. If we try to bury it… it'll only come back and bite us in the ass. I want the Justice Department to prepare warrants for the arrest of Assistant Secretary Petry and Ambassador Cox."

Jones began shaking her head.

"Robert-" Before she could continue the President cut her off and said, "Valerie, cancel my dinner plans for this evening and inform the congressional leadership that I'd like to meet with them."

Jones had a pained expression on her face. The President's demeanor suggested that any further protests would be unwise. She'd lost this one for now, but there was always later. When she had him alone she would try to get him to rethink his decision before he jumped off the cliff.

With strained pleasantness Jones asked, "What would you like me to tell them?"

"Tell them I need to brief them on an issue of national security."

"I'll get to work on it right away." Before leaving she turned to Kennedy.

"You'll keep me informed of any decisions you reach with the DOJ and the FBI?"

Kennedy noticed it was more a demand than a question, but nonetheless nodded politely. Jones had been thoroughly defeated and there was no sense rubbing it in.

When the chief of staff was gone the President addressed Kennedy and Flood.

"I'm sorry about that. Politics comes first for Valerie. She can't help it."

Flood shook his oversize head and grumbled something. Kennedy watched the general with pursed lips and then added, "No need to apologize, sir. You need people who will watch out for the political ramifications."

"That's true," agreed the President, "but that doesn't mean we have to check our morals at the door." Hayes's face twisted into a disapproving frown.

"Valerie's tendency is to try to control everything. She doesn't understand that the American people will cut you a lot of slack as long as you're up front with them and they know you had the right intentions. In this situation it's pretty cut and dried."

Hayes laid his hands flat on his desk and moved several pieces of paper around while he pondered precisely how to proceed.

"I want to do the right thing here. I want to be up front on this, and I want to move very quickly. I don't want some hotshot reporter breaking this before we get out in front of it, otherwise I'm afraid Valerie will be proven right and I'll be crucified on the Hill."

"If I may, sir?" asked Kennedy. The President nodded and she said, "You might not want to wait for tonight. The general and I could begin briefing select members of the various committees this afternoon.

Then when you meet with them tonight, you can give them the entire story. I would caution you, though, that we need to keep General Moro and his involvement out of this."

The President's expression went from keen to confused.

"Why?"

Kennedy hesitated and then said, "Mitch has come up with a solution for dealing with the general. If you have time, I think we should get him back in here so he can explain it to you."

The President eyed the director of the CIA with great curiosity.

Since diplomacy was far from Mitch Rapp's area of expertise, the President was very curious about what his top counterterrorism operative had in the works. Two navy SEALs were dead, a family of Americans were still held hostage and his presidency was on the brink of scandal.

Right now, the idea of retribution seemed very appealing.

The little girl sat huddled in the corner, wrapped in a white robe, clutching herself tightly. David was sweating profusely under the black hood that covered his face. He grabbed one of Hamza's legs and arms and pulled him to the center of the bed.

Hearing a muffled sob, he looked up to check on the girl. Her face was covered by the oversize white folds of the hotel robe. He felt a genuine ache in his heart at the agony she was suffering. He knew it wasn't just physical pain. Even worse, anguish and nightmares would probably follow her for the rest of her life.

David guessed that she couldn't be more than ten years of age. Right about now guilt and self-recrimination would be working their way into her innocent mind. She would begin to wonder what she had done wrong to warrant such treatment. The Muslim world dealt very harshly with sexual stigmas where women were concerned. In David's patriarchal society the distinction between a woman who willingly commits adultery and one who is forcibly raped is often lost. The honor of the family, which really means the honor of the father, is above all else.

David looked down at the poor frightened kid in the corner and struggled over what to do with her. He knew he should have never untied her. He should have simply shot Hamza in the back of the head, dispatched the two bodyguards and left. If he'd stuck with his original plan he'd be long gone by now; miles of safe distance between himself and the crime. The maid would show up in the morning and find the young girl, and she would be taken to a hospital. Everything would have turned out just fine for her.

As much as he "wanted to believe it, though, he knew that was far from what would really happen. The maid would have called the police, who would very quickly discover they had a dead Iraqi general on their hands. The media would find out shortly after that, and this little innocent girl would get swept up in the maelstrom that would follow.