Kennedy shook her head sadly. She looked offended by the accusation. «You know me better than that. I would never harm you. I was acting strange when we last talked because of Thomas.» Kennedy gestured to the director. «He's dying of cancer. You didn't know that, did you?»

«No.» Rapp looked down at Stansfield. Come to think of it, he did look frail.

«All of the vultures are circling, and they're getting ready for their next meal. There's pressure coming from all sides.» Kennedy paused and then added, «Look me in the eye, Mitch, and tell me you really think I could have done such a thing.»

If Rapp had learned one thing in the last ten years, it was that people were capable of almost anything. Despite all of that, though, Kennedy had always been the one person he could depend on. The person who was supposed to watch his back. «If it wasn't you, then who was it?»

«That's what we've been trying to figure out.»

«Just put me in a room alone with the team you sent to Germany, and I'll take care of it.»

Kennedy blinked. «That's going to be a problem.»

«Oh, let me guess,» said Rapp with feigned surprise. «They've disappeared.»

«No, worse.»

«They're dead.»

«Yes.»

«How convenient.»

«Believe me, no one wanted to talk to them more than me.»

Rapp grunted. «Actually, I'm at the top of that list.» He aimed the gun at Kennedy. «She didn't try to pump two rounds into your chest.»

«What exactly happened in Germany?»

«I have a few more questions before we get to that. How is it that you happen to know they're dead?»

Kennedy looked at Coleman. The former SEAL Team commander said, «I witnessed it.»

«You saw it, or you pulled the trigger?»

Coleman shook his head. «I didn't kill them.»

«Scott, no offense, but what in the hell are you doing in the middle of this?»

Stansfield coughed and raised his right hand. «That would be my doing, Mitchell. We received one communique from the Jansens – you knew them as the Hoffmans – after the mission. They stated that the count had been eliminated, but you'd been lost in the process. As we followed developments, it became apparent that the Jansens may have been wrong. There were reports that someone fitting your description was seen leaving the count's estate five to ten minutes after the Jansens left. Then there was the fire. The Jansens had said nothing about that. We became suspicious, and I asked Scott to go to Colorado and bring the Jansens back for a thorough debriefing.»

Kennedy inched forward. «Mitch, what happened in Germany?»

«In a minute.» Looking to Coleman, he asked, «Tell me about Colorado.»

«I went out there with a few men to retrieve them.»

«When was this?»

«Saturday night. The Jansens had a place west of Denver in a little town called Evergreen. We put them under surveillance and were getting ready to move in on Sunday morning when another group showed up and took them out.»

Rapp studied him for a moment, trying to detect a lie. «Who was this other group?»

«I don't know.» Coleman shook his head. «There were four of them. Three men and a woman. They were very professional. Quick and thorough.»

«You honestly have no idea who they were?»

«No.»

«That's bullshit, Scott.» Rapp raised his voice. He looked to Kennedy.» And you?»

«We were discussing this very matter when you burst in here,» Kennedy said a little testily:

«Well, excuse me if I forgot to knock, but I hope you understand if I'm just a little pissed off. You send me on a mission that only a handful of people are supposed to know about, and right after I take care of the count, I turn around and that bitch you sent to assist me pumps two rounds into my chest:' Rapp pointed at himself. «From where I'm sitting, it's pretty clear that someone set me up. You» – Rapp pointed the gun at Kennedy – «had the method and the means, and now I'm trying to figure out what your motivation was.»

Kennedy stood abruptly. «If you think…»

«Sit back down!» shouted Rapp.

«No, I'm not going to sit back down! And stop pointing that gun at me!»

«Sit back down, Irene, or I swear I'll…»

«What? Shoot me?» Kennedy said defiantly as she took a step closer to him. «I know you well enough, Mitch, to know that you would never do such a thing. Not to me, and you know damn well I would never give an order to have you killed.» She took a deep breath and stared at him.

Rapp studied her. Her face was flushed, and her fists were clenched tight. He had never seen Kennedy raise her voice, let alone yell. In the end, he believed her because, more than anything, it was what he wanted to believe. Slowly, he retracted the pistol and pointed it at the ground. Nodding to Kennedy, he said, «Okay: So let's try to figure out who did.»

The colonial grandfather clock in the comer announced the arrival of the day's twenty-second hour. Senator Clark was sitting behind an expansive hand-carved oak executive desk in his study. A glass of cabernet sauvignon was in his left hand. It was the last of a sixty dollar bottle from McLaren Vale, Australia. Clark never bought French wine. It was overpriced and, more importantly, was made by a bunch of snobs. The man who had literally come from the wrong side of the tracks was a little sensitive when it came to elitists. For the most part, Clark kept these opinions to himself. No sense in announcing your hot buttons to a potential adversary. Secretary of State Midleton was a perfect example. The man was a full-blown cultural elitist. As a senator, he had voted for every liberal pet project that came down the aisle, just so long as it didn't affect the gentry in his blue-blood neighborhood. Midleton didn't know it, but Hank Clark wasn't his friend. Clark not only didn't like his former colleague in the Senate, he could barely tolerate the man, but he was willing to put up a front until the time was right.

Clark studied a memo that one of his senior staffers had prepared at the senator's request. It summarized the lack of affordable housing for military personnel. It was a sad state of affairs. The men and women in the military were getting the short end of the stick, living in conditions comparable to those of people on welfare. As could be predicted, morale was suffering, and readiness was way down. The cuts in military spending had gone too deep. This was going to be his issue. The issue he would run on. A newly commissioned officer in the armed forces made less than a new city bus driver in Washington. He made less than your average federal government administrative assistant, and he made far less than a teacher. That was another thing the senator was planning to exploit. He was sick of hearing the NEA gripe about teachers' salaries. When you factored in their personal days, sick days, workshops, holidays, and summers off, they barely worked two-thirds of the year. The men and women of the armed services were getting screwed.

The NEA was in bed with the Democrats; there was nothing he or any other Republican could do about that. He wasn't going to get their votes regardless of what he did, so he might as well make hay of it. The plan was to go into California, Texas, and Florida – all states with huge blocks of electoral votes and loaded with military bases. He would run on a ten-percent pay increase for all military personnel. The states would salivate over the potential boost to their economies. In addition to that, he'd demand that the brave men and women of the armed services be given the same health benefits as all other federal employees. The HMOs, pharmaceuticals, medical device manufacturers, and insurance companies would throw cash at his campaign. They would line up to get a piece of the action. That combined with the other backers he already had would give him a substantial war chest.