the door to the steam room opened, revealing the silhouette of a big man in a white towel. Senator Hank Clark, being a bit more modest than his congressional colleague, had his towel wrapped around his waist, Clark swaggered into the hot misty room. Despite the haze of the steam, he easily picked out the cragged profile of Rudin.

"Good morning, Albert." Instead of sitting, Clark began his search for the eucalyptus bottle. He found it on the top bench, and after shaking it; he went about spraying it in the areas around the steam jets.

"Not too much of that stuff," grumbled Rudin.

Rudin went on to mumble something else, but Clark couldn't decipher what was said, nor did he care. Albert Rudin was a chronic grumbler, and Clark had learned to ignore it. He had in fact learned to ignore many of Rudin's irritating habits. The senator set the bottle down and then reclined his large body on the bottom bench across from Rudin. Clark leaned back, stretched his arms out and rested his back against the upper bench. After letting out a satisfying moan and taking in a deep breath of the eucalyptus-laced steam he asked, "What's on your mind today, Albert, and why are we meeting in the steam room? You haven't decided to come out of the closet, have you?" Clark had a difficult time suppressing his desire to laugh. He had thought of the line on the way to the club, knowing it would irritate Rudin immensely. The man had absolutely no sense of humor.

"I don't find your humor very funny."

Clark choked on his laughter. "I'm sorry, Albert, but I couldn't resist. You've never asked me to meet you in the steam room before." The steam jets kicked on, an dover the hissing there was more mumbling from the other side of the room.

Rudin finally decided to enunciate his words and said, "You'll have to excuse me, but I'm a little paranoid these days."

"And why is that?" Clark began rubbing the warm water into his face.

"You know why." Rudin's words had more than a hint of accusation in them. He struggled over whether or not he should raise his suspicions over Charles Midletons suicide. After a brief pause he decided he needed to test the water a little. "I saw the footage of you at the White House the other day. How in the hell could you sit there next to that phony?"

"Which phony are you referring to? There's an awful lot of them in this town."

"The biggest phony of them all. Hayes! "The President's name came out like a hiss.

Clark let his head fall back and looked up through the steam at the ceiling. "Come off it, Albert. There are far bigger phonies in this town than Robert Hayes."

"Not in my book."

All Clark could do was shake his head.

"How in the hell could you sit next to him and agree to Irene Kennedy as the next director of the CIA? How?" Rudin asked in exasperation.

"Albert, I don't know how many more times I'm going to have to explain this to you, but I don't see Dr. Kennedy as a bad choice."

"Oh my God! I can't believe you're serious. What did Hayes offer you?"

"I resent your implication, Albert. He offered me nothing. I think you need a refresher course in civics."

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you've been in this town long enough," Clark's voice took on a slight edge, just enough to let Rudin know he shouldn't push it too far today. "The President has the power to appoint. It says so clearly in the Constitution."

"I know," snapped Rudin. "I've read it more times than you have. It falls under the Separation of Powers. The Chief Executive has the power to appoint and nominate and the Senate has the power to confirm. The fundamental principal is separate but equal," hissed Rudin. "You have every right, no, you have a duty to block Irene Kennedy's nomination."

"In the Senate we have something that you and your friends in the House are unfamiliar with. It's called decorum. When the President appoints someone to a position we almost always give him his choice unless there is some skeleton in their closet."

"Well, I think you'd better take a look in Kennedy's closet, because it's full of them."

"And what proof do you have of that?"

Rudin leaned forward. "Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean. She's so dirty she's got shit coming out of her ears."

This was not easy for Clark. The logical side of him wanted to slice Rudin's weak arguments to shreds, but he had to suppress that desire. The goal here was to make him even more resolute. Not to give him reason to rethink. But at the same time, Rudin couldn't know he was being played, Clark had done a masterful job thus far. He had been the one who had told President Hayes that Rudin and Midleton were plotting against him and his choice to be the next DCI. Fortunately for Clark, Rudin hadn't the slightest idea that his friend in the Senate had betrayed him. His overwhelming paranoia of Thomas Stansfield had caused him to attribute almost every bad event in his political life to the now dead spymaster.

Clark now leaned forward. The two men were eye to eye, three short feet separating them. "You are very quick to point out, Albert, that it is in my power as a senator to confirm or block the President's nominee, but you very conveniently leave out the fact that your committee has the power to investigate. If you think Irene Kennedy is corrupt, then investigate her." Clark stared through the steam at Rudin's deep-set eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The senator knew Rudin had no choice but to back down. There was nowhere else for him to go, and then Clark would have him exactly where he wanted him.

Rudin blinked as a bead of sweat dropped from his brow down onto his prominent nose. It hung there on the tip for a second and then slowly broke free. Rudin sat back and wildly waved a hand in front of him, signaling to Clark what he thought of his idea. "I can't do that," was his terse reply.

"Why not?" egged Clark.

"I told you what happened. I told you what the President and the party leadership said. I'd be done. My career would be over. They'd strip me of my chairmanship, and I'd never be heard from again."

Clark could feel it coming together. He smiled openly "I find it impossible to believe that they could silence you."

"You weren't there when they let me have it. Hayes threatened me." Rudin pointed to himself. "He said he'd make it his personal goal in life to see that I was defeated during the next election."

"Calm down, Albert. I think you've gotten yourself so far into this you're not seeing clearly."

"What could I possibly be missing? The speaker of the House picks me up in his limo, drags me over to the White House, I'm ambushed by my own party's leadership, and I'm threatened by the President himself." With a grimace Rudin added, "Please tell me what I'm missing."

Clark was tempted to remind Rudin that he'd brought it all down on himself, but decided it would be counterproductive to the task at hand. "Albert, I think you're selling yourself short. When was the last time you were challenged in a primary? Ten years ago?"

"Eight"

"When was the last time my party gave you a serious challenge?"

"It's been a while," he conceded with some real pride.

"So, how is the President going to stop you from going on to an eighteenth term?"

"I haven't been challenged from within my own party because there has never been an alternative, but if the President were to lean hard enough on the people who run the party back in Connecticut ... if he were to promise to infuse a bunch of cash into their coffers, they'd dump me in a heartbeat."

"Maybe so, but that's a risky proposition for the President. Voters don't always like bigwigs from Washington interfering in their local politics. You could spin it in the media that the President had a vendetta against you. If you played it right you could make yourself into a victim of petty Washington politics. The local voters and media would love it."