Rap knew all too well what she meant. He pulled her close and squeezed tight. "Don't worry, Donny. If you're ready to put it all behind you, I'll make it happen." Rapp decided at that exact moment that he would do whatever it took to bring her in. He would use whatever leverage he had to make sure she was safe.

Donatella sat up and grabbed a handkerchief from her bag. She blotted the tears from her eyes and said, "I'm not done yet. I have a few more years left before I can retire."

Rapp thought of the fate of Peter Cameron and decided she might not have a few more years. At that moment the waiter approached the table and set Donatella's drink down.

"He'll have a glass of your house red wine, please." Donatella dismissed the waiter and turned to Rapp. "If I'm going to cry and drink vodka I'm not going to let you get away with drinking coffee."

Rapp didn't argue. He instead used the opening to get to the point. "Donny." Rapp looked her in the eye to make sure she knew how serious he was. "I'm going to tell you some things, and as always they're in complete confidence. In return I need you to be honest with me."

Donatella set her drink down and moved back a bit. She'd been thinking about how she was going to handle this all day and she as yet hadn't come up with a solution. "I'll do my best."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'll do my best."

"Will you be honest with me?"

"I'll be honest with you, but you know there are certain things I can't answer no matter what our history is." Reluctantly, Rapp conceded the point and asked, "Are you going to answer the question that I asked you in your office this afternoon?"

She'd thought about little else since he'd left, that and the fact that the man of her dreams was going to marry someone else. Her first instinct was to lie. It had nothing to do with Mitch, it was standard operating procedure. Everybody was on a need to know basis, and if they knew that, shouldn't be asking the question. Hence they shouldn't be offended when they found out they were lied to. Mitch fell into a different category, though. They had been through so much, and not just in the bedroom, but in the field. There was an unspoken rule between them. If you can't answer the question, don't. Mitch knew something. She had no idea how, but one thing was clear, somehow he knew she was in Washington several weeks ago.

Rapp leaned in and repeated the question. "Where you in Washington several weeks ago?"

Donatella took a sip of the cold vodka. "Yes."

"Did you spend any time at George Washington University?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I do."

"No one else?" asked a skeptical Donatella.

"Oh, there are others, but no one wants to know as bad as I do."

"And why is that?"

Rapp studied her for a second. They could go on like this for hours, like two tennis players volleying the ball across the net at each other. He was in no mood for such a game; he didn't have the time. Taking a calculated risk he said, "There was a professor at George Washington University that I really wanted to talk to. Unfortunately, someone stuck a pick in his ear and scrambled his brain before I could get to him. Any idea who would do such a thing?"

Donatella fidgeted and looked away at the crowd. She knew he had her. He'd seen her kill that way before. Choosing to deflect his question by asking one of her own she said, "Why did you want to talk to him?"

Rapps eyes lit up with anger. He leaned in until his nose was just inches away from Donatellas. His response was spoken through gritted teeth. "Because he tried to kill me."

Situation Room, Thursday morning

Colonel Gray had the room's rapt attention. Even the unflappable Irene Kennedy was shaking her head in disbelief at the Delta Force commander's bold plan. Its audacity was absolutely beautiful.

President Hayes looked at the colonel with a slightly miffed expression and asked, "You've already practiced this?"

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

"We took three MH-47E heavy lift helicopters from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR) and loaded them each with one Mercedes sedan and four Delta operators. We flew the planes from Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina to Hulbert Field in Florida. Once we arrived we conducted eight separate infiltration and exfiltration operations over an eight-day period. We tried to make the exercise as realistic as possible. Each night we sent out two MH-53 J Pave Lows with Delta operators in each bird. Their job was to secure the landing area for the arrival of the MH-47E's. The first two nights we made it easy on them. We selected paved roads on remote parts of the base. The Pave Lows arrived at the preselected area and secured and marked the landing strip. The MH-47E's arrived and landed without incident. The cars were unloaded and the Delta operators took off on their simulated mission. The cars were then reloaded and the choppers took off.

"The next two nights the Pave Lows arrived and found the designated area occupied by potentially hostile forces. They had to move onto the secondary landing sites and so forth. With each passing night we made the mission increasingly difficult. We simulated one of the choppers breaking down, we simulated the force coming under attack in the middle of unloading the cars, we threw everything at them."

"And?" the President asked.

"They fared very well. We finished the exercise with an understanding of what should be done to increase the odds for success. We also came away believing that if called on we could put this plan into action in very short order." The President blinked several times and said, "So you're telling me you think you could fly a couple of these choppers into Iraq, land, unload the cars, drive into Baghdad, hit the target, and get everybody out safely." The President shook his head. "Excuse me if I sound skeptical, but this seems a little over the top."

"I'm in the business of over the top, sir. That's what you pay me for."

President Hayes laughed and then leaned forward. "Colonel, do you really think you could pull something like this off?"

"That depends on what type of cover you're willing to give us, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"If what I've just described to you represents the entire scope of the operation," Gray paused for a second while he calculated the odds of success. "I'd give my men a fifty to sixty percent chance of achieving the primary goal and making it out without any casualties."

The President grimaced. "I don't like those odds."

"I can get them closer to ninety percent if you're willing to expand the scope of the operation."

"How?"

Gray glanced at the two generals before continuing. Both Flood and Campbell signaled for him to proceed. "It would be very difficult to get the choppers that deep into Iraqi airspace without them being picked up. To pull this off, we'd need to create some chaos. General Flood has informed me that one of your contingencies is for massive air strikes."

"It's something I'm considering."

"Well, if the fly-boys were to go in and wreak havoc with the Iraqis' air defenses and lines of communications just prior to my boys going in, it would create the perfect environment. And if they could continue bombing until we were back out it would be a huge help." With a look of disbelief, the President asked, "You want to send your men into Baghdad with bombs dropping all around them?"

"Yes." Gray sat forward and gestured with his hands. "We'd create a safe corridor for the team to get in and out of the city. No bombs would be dropped in that zone, and no bombs would be dropped within, let's say, a six-block radius of the hospital."

"Colonel, I haven't been at this job very long, but I do know that our aviators don't always hit their target. Don't you think its a little dangerous to send your men into a city that we're bombing?"