The feeling of having avoided near disaster was intoxicating. Knowing that he had fooled them all gave him a sense of omnipotence. His plans to run for the White House, however, were on hold. Ellis and his West Coast financiers were very upset that Kennedy had been confirmed as director, but there was nothing he could do about that. At least not for now. In the meantime he told Ellis that he would begin trying to find another mole at the CIA. Amazingly, neither Steveken nor Brown's name had been dragged into the spotlight. After Rudin's death the FBI just dropped everything.

President Hayes was untouchable at present. His numbers were so high, someone would have to be a complete fool to run against him. But that was now. Who knew what the political climate would be like in a year? Clark would hang around biding his time. He'd lived to fight another day, and his dream of someday occupying the Oval Office was still alive.

Clark's limousine finally pulled into the small drive and a doorman, resplendent in topcoat and top hat, opened the door. The senator got out of the car in his double-breasted tuxedo and entered the club. He looked tanned and rested from another weekend retreat in the Bahamas and was in the mood to have some fun. He proceeded to the magnificent Warne Lounge where a band was playing and most of the partygoers had gathered. Too many in fact. Upon seeing that they were five deep at the bar, the senator reversed his course and headed off for the Cherrywood Bar. A few folks tried to stop him on the way but Clark politely informed them of his predicament and told them he would be back. Fortunately, there were only a few wise souls bellied up to the curved granite bar.

He ordered a glass of merlot and settled in. He'd finish this one and order another before he went back to join the revelry. He was about to begin making small talk with the bartender when an absolutely stunning blonde in an ivory, beaded dress sauntered into the room. She cozied up to the bar one chair over from Clark and ordered a glass of Chardonnay.

When she looked in his direction Clark said, "How are you doing this evening?"

"Just fine, thank you." She turned her attention back to the bartender.

The woman had just a touch of an accent, but Clark couldn't place it. She was absolutely gorgeous, high cheekbones, full lips and a curvaceous figure with a tiny waist, Clark was already wondering what she looked like with her clothes off when he asked, "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Yes." She studied Clark for a second and said, "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

He smiled and took a big sip of wine. "Most certainly not. I'd remember that." Standing, he extended his hand. "I'm Senator Hank Clark."

"Oh, that's right." She took his hand. "I've seen you on TV." With a flirtatious smile she added, "You're much better-looking in person."

"Why thank you, and so are you."

The woman laughed and patted dark's hand.

"And what is your name?"

"I'm Mary Johnson."

"You must not live in Washington, Mary, or I'm sure we would have

crossed paths."

"You are correct, Senator. I'm from Richmond."

"So how'd you get mixed up with this crowd?"

The glass of Chardonnay arrived. "I was a sorority sister of Sally's daughter in college."

"Oh, great. Here, take a seat." Clark offered the stool next to him. "Thank you." She sat and crossed her legs, the long slit in her dress revealing a healthy portion of her toned thigh.

Clark noticed the exposed flesh immediately and reached for his wine. He took a large gulp and smiled. "I love your dress. It's beautiful." He looked at the wedding ring on her finger, and then back down at her leg. "So where's your husband?"

She hesitated for a second and then replied, "He's down in Richmond. He doesn't like coming to these things. In fact, all he pretty much likes to do is work."

Clark moved a little closer and in a quieter voice said, "If I was married to you, I'd only have one thing on my mind."

"And what's that, Senator?"

"You." Clark polished off his glass of wine and ordered another.

The woman blushed at the compliment and reached into her handbag to retrieve a compact. She opened it and checked her makeup, applying some more powder to her nose. "So tell me, Senator, where is Mrs. Clark tonight?"

"She is, fortunately, back in Arizona for the evening."

The second glass of merlot appeared and the bartender scurried off to help another customer. The woman pulled some lipstick out of her handbag and asked Clark, "Is that you in that photo over there?" She pointed over Clark's shoulder at a collection of black-and-white photographs on the wall of the bar. When Clark turned to look, she casually moved her lipstick over the senator's glass of wine and pressed a small button on the side. Several drops of a clear odorless liquid fell into the glass. The woman placed the lipstick back in her handbag and took a sip of her own wine.

When Clark turned back around he said, "Yes, I think that is me and some of my colleagues from the Hill." He lifted his glass of wine and took a sip.

The woman nodded and then stuck her hand out. "Well, Senator Clark, I feel like dancing. What do you say?"

"I'd love to." Clark took another sip and stood. He offered his hand to the woman and decided tonight was going to be a good night indeed. As he stared down at her full breasts peeking over the top of her tight dress, he once again tried to imagine what Mary Johnson would look like naked. Rapp stood alone in his tuxedo near the bar in the ballroom. His black hair had been dyed mostly gray, and he sported a salt and pepper goatee. He adjusted the horn-rimmed glasses he was wearing and looked out over the crowd in search of Donatella. He'd sent her to follow Clark, and was waiting for her to return.

For the most part, Rapp had kept Kennedy out of the loop over the last three weeks. She knew what he was up to but didn't want any details. The President, he assumed, had conveniently decided not to get involved. Freidman had given them a good start on what Clark had been up to. For his help, Kennedy and the President would stay silent about what the head of Mossad had done. Freidman's money, though, would stay out of his reach for a while longer. Kennedy wanted it for leverage on some other things.

With Freidman's information they began looking into Clark's life. Rapp had done most of the surveillance and digging with the help of Donatella and a few other well trusted specialists. He'd been inside all three of Clark's homes and examined his financial and medical records in detail. He'd also taken the opportunity to insert certain things here and there to help explain the senator's upcoming death.

Just killing Clark wasn't going to work. It would have been easy, but doing it so closely on the heels of Rudin's apparent suicide would have raised too many questions. This was why Rapp had picked tonight. The more witnesses the better.

Through the festive sea of holiday revelers Rapp spied a blond haired Donatella working her way toward him with Clark in tow. Several people tried to stop the senator, but he was too focused on the bombshell in front of him to slow down.

Donatella approached Rapp and whispered, "It's taken care of." Then turning back to Clark she said, "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine." Donatella stepped out of the way and left the two men facing each other.

Rapp looked at Clark's face for signs that the drug was working its way through his bloodstream. A layer of sweat was forming on his lip and his eyes appeared to be agitated.

Clark stuck out his hand and said, "Senator Hank Clark. Nice to meet you." At that moment he seemed to lose his balance for a second.

Rapp grabbed his hand firmly. "My name is Mitch Kruse, Senator. I've

been looking forward to meeting you for some time."