Anna Rielly sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around her legs, pulling them tight against her chest. Her best friend had been attempting to console her for the better part of an hour, while Michael O'Rourke alternated between sitting and pacing back and forth in front of the couch. The rain falling outside only added to the dreary mood inside the O'Rourkes' Georgetown home.

After getting over the initial shock of finding her best friend's husband on the front porch of her boyfriend's house holding a gun in his hand, Rielly had listened long enough to understand that Michael O'Rourke didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him while they were still at Rapp's house. He had handed Anna the mobile phone, and Liz had quickly explained to her that she should listen to Michael and follow him back to Georgetown immediately.

Anna had known instantly that it had something to do with Mitch. She had tried to ask, but again Michael made it clear that they shouldn't talk about it until they got back to the city. This tactic did not work. Anna became understand- ably upset, and he was forced to tell her that Mitch was all right. This calmed her down just enough to get her into the car and under way, but that was about it. By the time they got back to the O'Rourkes' house, she was a mess.

It took a good thirty minutes for Liz to calm her down, and as far as Michael was concerned, very little useful information came out during this time. Anna would not answer Liz's questions, and the few times that Michael had tried to steer the conversation, his wife had given him a look that told him to butt out. Anna repeatedly stated that she couldn't talk about what Mitch might be involved in. The only point she conceded was that Rapp's computer consulting business was, in fact, legitimate.

O'Rourke grew increasingly frustrated with the way things were going. He wanted answers, and felt he deserved them. This was, after all, something that he did not bring on himself, much as the events involving Scott Coleman and his grandfather had been something he did not bring on himself. O'Rourke paused and thought about that one for a moment. He knew he wasn't being entirely honest. If he had kept his mouth shut and not informed Scott Coleman about a certain senator's complicity in getting a dozen Navy SEALs killed, that whole problem never would have developed. He had learned a hard lesson from that one. Keep your mouth shut. Secrets are better left in the dark. In a way, this was the only thing that was keeping him from taking off the kid gloves. Maybe it was better if he didn't know what Mitch Rapp was really up to?

This line of reasoning only took the congressman so far, and then it ran into a dead end. The reality was that he was already involved, and it was not by his or his wife's choice. It was Mitch Rapp who had sent the e-mail and asked for help. They deserved a few answers. O'Rourke needed to know what he was now involved in, and if Anna wasn't willing to give the answers, he would go elsewhere.

O'Rourke stood and walked toward the foyer. The rain was coming down in sheets. Looking back at his wife and Rielly, he said, «Anna, I need you to answer some questions.» Choosing his next words carefully, he added, «And I need you to answer them truthfully.»

Liz O'Rourke looked up at her husband with a scowl on her face. «Michael, I think your questions can wait.»

They were going to have it out, and at this point Michael didn't care. It would be his Irish temper against her Italian temper. It had happened before, and it would happen again. They never got physical, and they always made up. Until today, the last five months had been a constant stream of «yes, dears.» This, Michael knew, was because of his wife's anointed state of pregnancy. For the most part, Liz ran the show. She was a tough-minded woman, and this, among a long list of things, was why he had married her. But just as she had her strengths, he had his, too. And he feared they were in an area where he had significantly more experience than his wife.

«Do you remember,» Michael said in a stem voice, «what happened right here in this house not so long ago?» Michael pointed at the floor. «You went to the store, and when you came back, I was gone.»

Liz O'Rourke's big brown eyes looked up at her husband, and she swallowed hard. The memory was more like a nightmare. Thanks to Michael's grandfather and Scott Coleman, her husband had come within inches of losing his life. On the night in question, Michael had been abducted from this very house and taken to the home of one of the most powerful men in Washington. He had been brutally beaten and interrogated, and if it hadn't been for the quick actions of CIA DirectorThomas Stansfield, Michael wouldn't be standing here right now.

«Liz.» Michael lowered his voice. «We have been dragged into this through no fault of our own. A certain dark chapter in our past has been dredged up and dangled in front of our faces.» He slowly shook his head. «And I honestly don't know if Scott Coleman's name was mentioned as a threat or merely an honest suggestion, but I need some answers. Can you understand that?»

Liz looked apprehensive, but she nodded. Michael walked over to the chair and sat. With hands folded and his elbows resting on his knees, he looked at Anna and said, «I know Mitch is much, much more than a computer consultant, and I'm guessing from the way you've been acting since I picked you up at his house that you also know he's more than just a simple computer consultant.»

She didn't deny nor confirm the accusation, so O'Rourke took it as a yes. «For him to send Liz that e-mail means one of three things.» Michael began ticking the options off on his fingers. «First, he's a spy for us and quite possible a former Navy SEAL.» Rielly's tear-filled eyes squinted in a questioning manner at the SEAL comment.

«Second, he's a spy for someone else. Or third, he's involved in something illegal like drugs.»

Anna shook her head vigorously at the last suggestion.

«Does he work for the CIA?»

«I don't want to talk about this.» Rielly gestured with her hands for Michael to stop.

«How about the Pentagon?» he persisted.

«Don't ask any more questions.»

«Is it the NSA?»

«Michael, no. I told you I can't talk about this.» Rielly buried her face in her hands. «Just please leave me alone.» Anna wanted everything to stop. Her head was throbbing. All she wanted was to have Mitch home and safe. She'd been having nightmares about this very thing for the last two months. In every single one of those dreams, Mitch was dead, and it scared her in a way she had never experienced. It was unbearable to think that she could come this far, find the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and then lose him.

Before telling her his real story, Mitch had made Anna promise that she would never discuss what he did for the CIA. Not even with her parents and surely not a U.S. congressman. But Mitch had reached out from wherever he was and contacted Liz and Michael. Anna didn't know what to do.

«Why don't you ask Mitch yourself?»

Michael ignored her and said, «Anna, you know what I do for a living. I can pick up a phone and have someone from the CIA sitting in this room within an hour. It's required by law. I sit on the House Select Committee on Intelligence, and they have to answer to us. I could go down to the Hill right now, and with my security clearance, I could start digging. I will probably set off some alarms at Langley and the Pentagon and God only knows where else, but people will have to answer my questions.»

Anna lifted her head and looked at O'Rourke. «Michael, I'm begging you, just leave it alone until you can talk to Mitch.»

«I can't do that;' he said, firmly shaking his head. «Mitch dumped this in our laps, and in the process he has dredged up some stuff that I would really prefer be kept buried. I need to know how he knows about that stuff, and I need to know now.»