It was possible that Rosenthal had killed her and disposed of her body without anyone knowing. That was what Freidman had asked him to do. Maybe Rosenthal had run into a few problems and it was taking longer to get out of Italy and back to Israel. Anything was still possible, but with each passing hour of silence, the chances that things had gone according to plan diminished. At this stage Freidman had no choice but to try to stay calm, despite the fact that his gut told him Donatella had not gone down without a fight.

He'd trained her. He should have known better. It was the damn money Senator Clark waved in his face. He should have firmly told him not to worry. That he knew Donatella, and she would keep her mouth shut. Freidman had to be honest with himself, though. It was more than just the money. Donatella was a bit of a loose cannon and sooner or later, he figured he'd have to deal with her. She knew too many of his secrets, and with her temper there was no telling when she would explode and take him down with her.

No, Freidman decided. It hadn't been a mistake to go after her. It had been a mistake to not send more people. Freidman needed to start working on a cover story. Rosenthal couldn't go missing for too many more days without some people starting to ask where he was. Why had he sent Rosenthal to Italy? That would be the first hurdle to overcome. He felt confident that he could come up with a pretty good lie to handle that problem, but if Donatella was still alive, and she started making waves, he could be in big trouble. Freidman grabbed his phone and punched in an extension. A moment later a woman answered and he said, "I need you in my office right now." He hung up and wondered how much he'd have to tell this one. Not much, he decided. She could go to Milan and start digging around. Hopefully, Rosenthal would contact him and report that the mission was a success, before she even got there. Freidman knew the chances of that happening were between slim and none."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

Capitol Hill, Friday afternoon

The motorcade of two government sedans and a limousine pulled up to the loading dock of the Hart Senate Office Building. Normally they would have used the front of the building, but today it was swarming with media. Dr. Irene Kennedy emerged from the limo. Her detail quickly escorted her into the building and brought her to the second floor. One of the staffers from the Senate Intelligence Committee was waiting for them. The man showed Kennedy into one of the private witness rooms at the rear of room 216 and then left her alone. Her detail also stayed outside. Kennedy wanted a few minutes of solitude before the confirmation circus started.

She used the room's private bathroom to wash her hands and check her makeup. She'd applied an unusually heavy amount today knowing that she'd be on TV. She touched up her lips a bit and put some more powder on her nose and forehead. Looking into the mirror she told herself, No matter what happens stay calm, and don't be afraid to say, I don't know.

Kennedy left the bathroom and took a seat at the small conference table. She knew all of the men on the committee. She'd sat in front of them countless times before and answered their questions. The only thing that was different about today was the media. Kennedy had just gotten settled in when there was a knock on the door. Senator Clark entered with a warm grin on his face. "Irene, how are you?" Clark closed the door.

Kennedy stood. "Just fine, Mr. Chairman."

"Irene, how many times do I have to tell you, it's Hank when we're alone like this." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I could never get your boss. God rest his soul, to call me by my first name, but he was twenty years my senior so I cut him a little slack." Clark winked at Kennedy. "You don't have that excuse, so from now on it's Hank when we're alone. All right?" Kennedy nodded. "All right, Hank."

"Good. Now, are you nervous at all? Is there anything I can get you before we go out there?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

Clark looked down at the diminutive Kennedy and felt a pang of sorrow for her. He really did like her. It was too bad that she was going to have to go through this. "I don't expect things to get rough. Most of the men out there like you, and with the President and myself backing you, the votes are already there. You might get a few tough questions from Schuman, but don't sweat it. That's just him grandstanding in front of the cameras."

"I know. I've seen him do it plenty of times."

"I'll do my best to keep him in line along with any others who might get a little unruly, but ultimately it's up to you to handle them."

"I know. I've done this before, Hank."

"But you've never done it in front of all these cameras and reporters." There was no smile on his face. "Be very careful what you say in front of this crowd. One slipup and they'll pile on."

Kennedy showed no fear. "I know."

"Well, you're the only show this afternoon, so when you're ready, we'll go." Clark pointed toward the door with his thumb.

"I'm ready"

Clark gave her another warm smile and then wrapped his arms around her for a hug. "Good luck out there." He released her and said, "Let's go make history."

Kennedy followed him out of the room. The hallway was crowded with people. Every single one of them stopped talking when Clark and Kennedy appeared. The senator towered above everyone, even the men from Kennedy's security detail. He continued through another door and Kennedy followed him out onto the side of the dais located at the front of the hearing room. Clark gestured for Kennedy to head out to the witness table and he continued up to take his place at the center of the long U-shaped bench with the other senators.

The gallery was filled with reporters and TV crews. Today was an historic moment. The first woman ever nominated to run the CIA was about to begin her confirmation hearing. The hearing was not scheduled to be aired live by any of the networks or major cable outlets other than C-SPAN, but every network was there to get a clip for what would be the lead story on the nightly news.

As Kennedy approached the witness table she was nearly blinded by camera flashes. She'd left an entire entourage back at Langley. The people from legal and public relations had wanted to sit at the table with her, or at the very least in the first row. They wanted to be there to help manage a situation in case one arose. Kennedy had declined all requests. It was a point of pride that she go through this alone. No photo ops of men whispering in her ear, as if she couldn't answer a question on her own. Kennedy had looked forward to this day for a long time. She wasn't always sure it would happen, but that didn't stop her from dreaming. As the political climate changed in Washington over the last two decades she began to realize that within her lifetime it was likely that a woman would head the CIA. It was inevitable. The old boy network that had run the Agency during its first fifty years wouldn't like it one bit. Kennedy's potential to men like Alien Dulles and William Casey would have been to get them a cup of coffee and maybe type a few letters. They were different men from a different generation.

Kennedy looked up at the senators seated in their high back leather chairs. They were her judges. Sixteen men in total, not a single woman among the group and all but one of them a millionaire. This didn't bother Kennedy in the least. She was in good standing with almost all of them, and the few that she didn't know well, were not the type to cause problems. One or two of them might try to grandstand, but she could handle them. For the most part they respected her, and she respected them. None of it was personal. That's what she kept telling herself. This was the business of government.