Standing naked over the girl, a sweaty General Hamza brought a riding crop high above his head and let loose with a wicked blow. The young girl was tied to the bed facedown, spread-eagle, with a gag in her mouth. Her entire body shuddered as the leather crop met her flesh. She tried to scream, but it only came out as another muffled cry.

Her delicate skin had been breached in at least a dozen places.

David stared in horror at the long, bloody welts. Hamza, with his back to him, raised the crop above his head again, poised to unleash another blow. David suddenly wanted very badly to hurt him, not just kill him. Moving quickly, he reached Hamza just as the crop was about to strike the girl. His right hand came crashing down in a motion that mimicked Hamza's, but before the leather crop could strike the girl again, the black steel of David's pistol made contact with the base of the general's neck.

Hamza dropped the riding crop instantly, lurching forward and falling unsteadily to one knee. David hovered over him for a split second and then unleashed a second blow. This time the pistol grip landed on the top of Hamza's head. The general wavered for a moment like a tree that couldn't decide which way it would fall, and then before gravity could take hold David reached out and grabbed a handful of hair.

Not wanting to alert the bodyguards in the next room, he carefully lowered the naked body of Hamza to the floor.

David grabbed a sheet and covered the young girl. As he looked down at Hamza with disgust and hatred a battle was raging within him. All of his instincts told him to finish off the general and then take care of the bodyguards. That would be the professional way to proceed.

The vengeful voice in his head, though, wanted the general to suffer, and it was winning.

David moved for the door that connected the general's room to that of his bodyguards. Without a moment of hesitation he grabbed the handle and yanked it open. He knew the layout of the room, and his silenced pistol was up and already sweeping the area where he'd most likely find the two thugs, while he stayed in the doorway, hugging the frame to reduce his silhouette on the off chance one of the men might get off a shot.

Neither of them did. They were watching TV and looked up expecting to see their boss, but instead found a man wearing a black mask and pointing a gun at them. The weapon was fired twice in less than half a second. At a distance of just eighteen feet David never doubted his accuracy. Both 9mm, subsonic hollow-tipped rounds found their mark, hitting the bodyguards dead center between the eyes. The two Iraqis died instantly.

David closed and locked the door and then after another brief internal battle he decided on a course of action. From an assassin's point of view it wasn't the smart thing to do, but it was definitely the right thing to do. He would have to deviate from his well-planned script, but he wasn't about to leave this poor young girl behind in the hotel room to face further pain and humiliation when the police arrived. No, she would be coming with him. He was getting ahead of himself, though.

First he had to think of an appropriate way to kill the naked Iraqi pig who was lying on the floor before him. David began cutting the young girl's bonds and with each slice of the knife the proper death sentence became more clear to him.

ELEVEN.

Rapp's performance wasn't exactly what Kennedy had had in mind, but she could tell that it had an impact on the President.

An added bonus was that Kennedy couldn't remember a time when she'd seen Valerie Jones so flustered. The President's animated chief of staff was silenced for once, waiting desperately for someone else to come to her defense now that Rapp had left. She looked from the President, to Flood, to Kennedy, and then back around again. Having found no comfort she settled on looking out the window and tapping her foot. Kennedy wondered if Jones honestly thought she would receive any solace from her or General Flood.

After several more moments of tense silence, Jones couldn't take it anymore. She looked at the President and blurted, "I warned you that having him around was a bad idea."

President Hayes looked at his chief of staff evenly.

"I don't always agree with Mitch's opinions, but I do always value them."

"Robert, he doesn't see the big picture. He doesn't understand the negative impact this type of scandal will have on your presidency."

Hayes cocked his head a bit to the side and said, "I have a feeling that Mitch would say it's you who don't see the big picture."

Jones exhaled in frustration.

"I'm not going to sit here and debate the big picture with some assassin from the CIA." Jones turned to Kennedy and said, "No offense, Irene, but I'm paid to put all the pieces of the puzzle together and minimize the President's exposure. You don't have to have a doctorate in political science to figure out what's going to happen when this story breaks. We are going to get eaten alive by the press, and then the committees on the Hill will begin to call for hearings"-she turned her attention to Hayes-"and they will make damn sure they drag you through the mud right up to your reelection."

To everyone's surprise Kennedy said, "I agree with Valerie."

Looking smug with her newfound support, Jones said, "Even his own boss agrees with me."

Kennedy held up a finger and added, "I do, but with one exception.

You'll never be able to keep a lid on this. The press already knows something's up. By the end of today, they'll have a pretty good handle on this story, and we'll probably see our first installment in the morning papers."

"But we can handle that," Jones jumped in.

"I already have our people working on the press release. The servicemen were lost in a joint training exercise with the Philippine army. "Jones looked to General Flood.

"This type of thing happens all the time, right?"

Before the general could answer, the President said, "The Philippine Ambassador has already called twice this morning, and I assure you it wasn't to talk about the weather."

Jones batted away the concern with her hand.

"They need our aid to prop up their economy. All we need to do is throw them some more money, and they'll play ball."

Kennedy slowly shook her head.

"Too many people know about this, sir. There's no way you're going to be able to keep a lid on it."

The President was leaning back now, tapping his forefinger against his upper lip.

Before he could say anything, Jones jumped back into the debate.

"Give me one week. That's all I'm asking for. One week and I'll have the press looking into something else, I promise."

Hayes looked to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs and said, "General, you're unusually quiet this morning. Is there anything you'd care to add?"

General Flood was an imposing man and even more so in his uniform.

A few inches over six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds he looked more like a retired football player than a man who still liked to jump out of planes a couple of times a year. It was evident from his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully. Keeping his eyes on the President he finally said, "Sir, I couldn't disagree with Miss Jones more emphatically."

The President was looking at Flood, but from the corner of his eye he could see his chief of staff begin to squirm. Ignoring her he said, "Please elaborate."

"We have announced that we are at war with terrorism. We have proof that at a bare minimum a Philippine general is taking bribes from a known terrorist organization that has taken a family of Americans hostage. We have proof that a State Department official, who was told in no uncertain terms that this rescue operation was to be kept secret, decided on her own volition to break federal law and discuss this information with an overseas State Department official. We have a U.S. Ambassador, who took it upon himself to brief the head of a foreign country that U.S. Special Forces were about to conduct a covert operation on that country's soil. Any reasonable person would conclude that these actions clearly led to the deaths of two U.S. Navy SEALs.