Kennedy studied the young congressman for a second and said, «I'll try my best. What is it?»

«Does the name Mitch Rapp mean anything to you?»

Kennedy studied O'Rourke before answering. Looking over his shoulder at the other committee members, she said, «Maybe you should come out to Langley, and we can talk about this.» Kennedy was fully aware that Anna Rielly and Congressman O'Rourke's wife were best friends. Rapp had kept her in the loop.

«So you know him?»

«I never said that.» Kennedy reached out and touched his arm. «Come see me at Langley, and we'll talk about it.»

O'Rourke nodded. «I'll be out this afternoon, then.»

«That's fine. CaIl my office and see what time works best.» O'Rourke agreed and went back to his seat. One more thing to worry about, Kennedy thought to herself. She looked up and saw Chairman Rudin scowling at a piece of paper. From his perch, he looked down his beaklike nose at Kennedy and said, «You may be seated.»

Congressman Zebarth, the ranking Republican on the committee who sat immediately to Rudin's right, leaned forward and said, «Good morning, Dr. Kennedy. Thank you for coming to see us on such short notice.» Zebarth winked and leaned back in his chair. Zebarth was the only other member on the committee who had been in Washington as long as Rudin. Very few politicians, let alone Republicans, got along with Rudin, but Zebarth was a throwback to the old days when politicians could agree to disagree and then go have a Manhattan. Keenly aware of the rules of debate and decorum. the silver-tongued Virginian could slice an adversary to pieces without a single angry word. The Republican leadership had placed him on the Intelligence Committee because they thought he was the only man who could handle Rudin's crotchety attitude.

Rudin shuffled some papers around and cleared his throat a few times. When he was done, he took a drink of water and removed his glasses. Looking down at Kennedy, he said, «I have been hearing some very upsetting things about your organization lately.»

Kennedy looked back impassively, waiting for Rudin to elaborate.

The chairman continued to stare at her, but Kennedy's composure was sending his blood pressure north. It infuriated him that these professional liars from Langley kept coming before his committee and trying to play him for a moron. «Ms. Kennedy, would you mind telling me just what in the hell happened in Germany last weekend?»

Before Kennedy could answer, Congressman Zebarth said, «I am progressing in years, but if my memory serves me right, it's Dr. Kennedy, not Ms. Kennedy.»

Rudin mumbled something under his breath and then said, «Dr. Kennedy, what happened in Germany last weekend?»

«Could you be more specific, Mr. Chairman?»

«I could. but I won't, because you know damn well what I'm talking about.»

«Excuse me, Mr. Chairman,» interjected Zebarth with a confused look on his face, «I don't know whether or not the good doctor knows what you're talking about, but I'm a tad bit embarrassed to admit that I certainly don't. Not that I claim to understand you in the most esoteric sense of the word, but in regard to the CIA, I can usually extrapolate some type of a read on your position.»

Rudin refused to look at Zebarth, who was sitting only four feet to his right. He hated the old windbag. Staring straight ahead, he said, «She knows what I'm talking about, and you will soon enough. Just conserve your oxygen for the next couple of minutes. It should help clear the fog.»

Zebarth snickered. Imitation was the greatest form of flattery, and Rudin had just stolen a line right out of Zebarth's play book.

«Now, Dr. Kennedy, let's get back to my question. What happened in Germany this past Saturday, and what was the involvement of your agency?»

«Are you referring to the events surrounding HagenmiIIer Engineering?»

«I'm referring to the assassination of Count HagenmiIIer,» replied a stem Rudin.

«There isn't much that I can add that you don't already know, Mr. Chairman.»

Rudin had his hands folded in front of him. He kept his eyes on Kennedy. «I don't believe you.» A chorus of rumbles erupted from the Republican side of the committee. Rudin ignored them and pressed the point. «I want you to tell this committee, in detail, what role the CIA had in the assassination of Count HagenmilIer. And I would like to remind you, if you lie to my committee, you will be prosecuted.»

This time, Democrats and Republicans alike turned around to look at the chairman. An accusation as blatant as this was a rare event in the tiny committee room.

«Well, well, well…» interjected Zebarth. «Given the fact that Dr. Kennedy has been very cooperative with this body in the past, I am assuming that the exuberant chairman has some information that he would like to share with the rest of us before we continue down this possibly reckless line of inquiry.»

Rudin snatched his wooden gavel and gave it several whacks. «Order. The chair has not yielded. When I have, I will let you know.» From the righthand side of the bench came a chorus of questions. Each time Rudin tried to get back to Kennedy, a Republican would ask loudly, «Will the chair yield, please? Point of order, Mr. Chairman.» This unruly behavior smacked of the antics displayed on the Judiciary Committee, but it was very unusual for the Intelligence Committee. Even the Democrats seemed a bit miffed by Rudin's aggressiveness.

Kennedy kept her mouth shut and watched. Rudin's blunt question had her concerned, but she didn't show it. The Orion Team didn't exist, and she had nothing to do with the death of Hagenmiller. She would utter those falsities until she was dead. She could never admit any of it no matter how bad it got. The big question was whether or not Rudin was bluffing, or if he had been given some information. A week ago, she would have bet the farm that he was bluffing, but today, with the unknown leak lurking out there somewhere, she couldn't be sure.

With a red face, Rudin yelled over the din of protests, «Dr. Kennedy, answer my question! Did the CIA have anything to do with the assassination of Count Hagenmiller?»

Kennedy calmly looked up at the angry chairman and said, «To the very best of my knowledge, the CIA had no involvement whatsoever in the death of Count Hagenmiller.» Kennedy did not blink; she did not waver. She had just committed a felony. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

The face looked familiar. It was hard to be sure because the subject's eyes were closed, but it definitely resembled one of the men he'd seen in Colorado. Scott Coleman looked at the computer screen and squinted. It was mid-morning, and they were in Marcus Dumond's apartment in Bethesda. With Kennedy's approval, the reigning computer expert from the Counterterrorism Center had called in sick. His orders from Kennedy were to assist Rapp and make sure that whatever he did, he didn't get caught.

It was not unusual for a person to die a violent death in Washington, D.C. It happened all the time. What was unusual about the homicide was the number of bullets fired and the fact that most of them were from silenced I weapons. Dumond had caught the story on the nightly news. The D.C. police were handling the homicide, and they had sent information to the CTC on the off chance that there might be a terrorist connection.

Coleman leaned over Dumond's shoulder. «Are there I any other photos?»

«Let me check.» Dumond maneuvered his mouse and clicked on an icon. With his high-speed connection, it took less than a second to download the second photograph. It was of the body lying on the street between two parked cars. «He looks like a pretty big guy.»

«Yeah, this guy out in Colorado was a house.» Coleman squinted. «I think this is him. Do they have a vitals sheet on him?»