There were a few rare exceptions. A select number of Senators and Congressmen could really keep their mouths shut, and they were the people who for the most part had gravitated toward serving on the intelligence committees. The real plums for the egos on the Hill had always been Judicial, Appropriations, Finance and Armed Services. These were the committees that were most likely to garner them air time and enable them to funnel pork back to their districts. But with the new war on terror a few of the opportunists had forced themselves onto the intelligence committees so they could capitalize on the committees' sudden higher profile.

Turbes kept a close eye on these people and had shared many of his concerns with Kennedy and Rapp. Just today he had sat on two pieces of intelligence that were so inflammatory he didn't feel he could trust them with the committees until Kennedy gave the go-ahead. Kennedy had agreed wholeheartedly and had already scheduled an early meeting at the White House so they could brief the President. The first piece of intelligence involved the gruesome murder of an Iraqi general in the Middle East and counterfeit money and the second involved the most taboo subject in the entire Hayes administration-the Saudis. Rapp knew when the President heard what they had to say he was going to blow his lid. OPEC for the most part went the way of the Saudis, and a warm relationship with the Saudis could go a long way toward keeping oil prices stable.

Rapp grabbed a pot from under the stove, filled it with water and placed it on the burner. While waiting for it to come to a boil he decided to check to see if they had any messages. There were two for Anna and he saved them both. After adding the rigatoni noodles to the boiling water he uncorked a bottle of red wine and started making the sauce. Shirley the mutt sat on the floor watching him intently, waiting for any scraps that might fall her way. The extent of Rapp's culinary skills were limited to three or four pasta dishes and steaks on the grill. After he had the sauce going he put two place settings on the breakfast bar. He would have to eat standing for a few more days.

Anna arrived home just as the noodles were coming off the stove.

She greeted Shirley and then set down her heavy black bag. After hanging her coat in the front hall closet she entered the kitchen with arms folded and stopped on the other side of the small center island.

Looking down, she fingered a stack of mail, most of it junk.

Rapp dumped the noodles into the colander sitting in the base of the sink and looked through the rising steam at his wife, who so far had not acknowledged him. Deciding to take Kennedy's advice he said, "Honey, I just want to let you know I'm very sorry about last night. I shouldn't have blindsided you like that, and in the future I'll try to do a better job of letting you know what's going on."

Anna did not look at him. She kept her eyes down, and continued to finger the stack of mail. She had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and slowly she began to nod. It was less of an acceptance of the apology than an acknowledgment that she'd heard him.

Rapp watched her intently, not quite sure how this little game was supposed to proceed. With each passing second of her silence he grew a bit more irritated. He'd made the first step and she could at least thank him for trying. In a voice void of his earlier conciliatory tone he asked, "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

She shrugged her shoulders and continued looking through the mail.

"I don't like this," she said without looking at him.

"I don't like being so out of control. No one has ever made me this angry. This is not who I am."

Rapp wasn't sure if he should reply, but something told him he should just keep his mouth shut and listen.

"I've never known anyone like you. There's no relationship book out there on how to be married to a spy."

Rapp smiled.

"I'm not a spy."

"You know what I mean." She kept her arms folded and looked him in the eye for the first time.

Rapp nodded in silence.

"I understand that I didn't marry a businessman. I know who you are, and I respect you and love you for everything you've done, but you have to remember, you didn't marry a nincompoop who waits dutifully for you to come home every night and never asks a single question other than "How was your day?"

Anna pointed to herself.

"That's not who I am… that's not who my mother was. I'm not going to live a separate life from you. I need to know what you're doing. I need to be kept in the loop." She paused at the sight of her husband frowning.

"Mitch, contrary to what you think, I know how to keep my mouth shut, and I'm sure as hell not going to say anything to anyone that might jeopardize your safety."

"What about national security?" he asked.

"I'm not asking to know the names of the CIA's informants in Iraq. I want to know about you. The hardest part about all this is having no idea where you are, or what you're doing."

It was all so strange for Rapp. He'd spent his entire adult life never having to explain to anyone anything about his job. It was something that he'd always kept tightly segmented from his personal life. The entire idea of opening up and sharing any of it with anyone was foreign to the point of making him almost claustrophobic. Even though he felt this way he knew she made sense. If she were to suddenly leave the country with barely a moment's notice, and give him no explanation of where she was going, how long she would be gone, or what she'd be doing, it would drive him insane. There had to be some type of a middle ground where they could meet.

Finally he said the only thing he could.

"I can't argue with a single thing you've said, but you have to understand it won't be easy for me. I'm not exactly a great communicator."

This made Anna laugh.

"No you're not, but admitting it is half the battle."

Seeing her smile made him feel better almost instantly.

"Well, I promise I'll work on it, but you have to promise me you won't push too hard. Spouse or not… there are certain things I can't tell you."

"And you need to promise me that you're not going to lead any more commando raids."

Rapp sighed and agreed. Anna and his boss were right. Though his job would never be a safe one, though he would certainly find himself in the eye of the storm again in the future, it had been plain stupid and unnecessary to involve himself so directly in the hostage rescue. It just wasn't his job anymore.

"I promise." He held out his arms and Anna came to him. He grabbed hold of her and held her tight.

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"I know you are." Anna embraced him and kissed his chin.

"I'm glad you're home, and now you're never going to leave again."

Rapp ignored her and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

"Good. Have a seat." Rapp pulled out a barstool for her and poured a glass of wine. Efficiently, he prepared two plates of steaming noodles and added a healthy dose of red sauce to each. He grated a little Parmesan cheese and sprinkled it on top of each plate.

Giving him one of her piercing looks, she said, "So what do we have to do to make sure you never get involved in something like this again?"

Rapp wasn't exactly crazy about his wife's choice of words. He was a man of action, and the phrase "never get involved" had far too much finality to it. To buy some time, he said, "Irene and I are going to talk about it… go over some guidelines for what I should and shouldn't be involved in."

Anna took a drink of wine.

"I know this isn't easy for you, honey, but you've sacrificed enough. It's time to let some other people carry the load. My dad's been a cop for over thirty years. He didn't spend all of them kicking down doors and chasing bad guys."