It was the only time that Kennedy bristled at her questioners. In a tone that bordered on rebellious she admonished the committee for referring to her most decorated clandestine operative in such a demeaning way. “Regardless of your personal feelings,” she told them, “you should respect the sacrifice this man has made to defend this country.”

Most of the senators took Kennedy’s words in a sober manner, but a few couldn’t help snickering and whispering derisive remarks to each other. The day dragged on, and the dinner hour approached. With nearly a third of the members still having to get their time, the chairman suggested they take a quick fifteen-minute break and then push through. The five of them went into one of the smaller secure briefing rooms and gathered themselves together, while the two CIA lawyers went off to try and get a word in with the chairman. Kennedy’s mood was as usual unreadable, while O’Brien and Ridley looked like tired old warriors who knew they were in the middle of a battle that was already lost. Rapp, on the other hand, was upbeat, bouncing around the room clapping his hands and rubbing them together like he couldn’t wait to get back out there.

He must have noticed the dire expression on Nash’s face, because he grabbed him by the shoulder and said, “Cheer up. The fun’s about to start.”

“It doesn’t look real fun out there.”

Rapp laughed. “I haven’t had such a good time since I drowned that little prick down in…”

“Mitch!” Kennedy screamed from across the room, stopping him from providing any more details to a murder that only the two of them knew about.

“Relax,” Rapp said as he looked around the room. “You guys are way too uptight.”

Kennedy picked up a phone and dialed the office. Ridley joined Rapp and Nash and said, “Seriously, Mitch, what in the hell do you think is going on out there? We’re getting our asses kicked.”

“No,” Rapp replied, “I’m getting my ass kicked.”

“You don’t think this is going to affect the rest of us?” Ridley said.

“I never said that.”

“Well, it is going to affect us, and it is quite possibly going to affect our ability to do our jobs.”

“By jobs, do you mean running up here five times a week to hold their hands and fill out all your forms in triplicate, or do you mean going out there and busting up these terrorist cells before they hit us?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do sometimes, Rob.” He gestured to Nash and said, “Look at you two. You look beat. You look ashamed.”

“We’re worried,” Nash said.

“Well, don’t be,” Rapp replied, “I’ve got it under control.”

“It sure the hell doesn’t look like it.” Ridley turned and walked over to O’Brien.

Looking at Nash, Rapp said, “What in the hell is wrong with him?”

“Mitch,” Nash said in a tired voice, “you just don’t get it sometimes.”

Rapp looked slightly taken aback. “Now I’m getting it from you too, junior.”

Nash put his right hand on his hip and looked at the ground. “It doesn’t look good out there.”

“Everything is going exactly the way I thought it would.”

“Does that include you going to jail?”

“I’m not going to jail. I can promise you that.”

“What about us?”

“You don’t see them asking you any questions, do you?”

“Not yet. That’s the problem with these things, Mitch. They have a way of growing. You said it yourself. Before this is over there’ll be another five committees looking into what happened.”

“Let ’em.”

“And you don’t think that’s going to take a toll on us? Both personally and professionally?”

“I’m the one they’re after.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” said Nash dully, “but this isn’t going to be a precision air strike. It never is, with these guys. They’re gonna carpet-bomb us and you can’t guarantee that a few of us won’t go down in the process.”

Rapp sighed, “So that’s what you guys are so glum about?”

“Yeah,” Nash said in hushed voice. “We have families, Mitch. Maggie is scared to death that Feds are going to show up one day and take me away in cuffs. Right in front of the children. Right in the middle of frickin’ dinner. She has the nightmare once a week at least. There’re countries I can’t go to now because that goddamn rendition program got leaked. Italy! We went there on our honeymoon and now we can’t go back. This shit is wearing on our families. You look at Rob over there.” Nash pointed to Ridley. “He’s got three kids he has to put through college. How in the hell do you think he’s going to do that if these asses get him fired and take away his pension? How in the hell do you think he’s going to afford the attorneys he’s going to have to hire to try and keep his ass out of jail?”

Rapp nodded as if he finally understood this for the first time, but he didn’t. This was central to why he was forcing the issue. He turned to O’Brien and Ridley, who were talking in the other corner. “Guys, come here.”

The two men shared a few more words and then joined Rapp and Nash.

“Gentlemen, maybe I haven’t been clear enough with you. Chuck,” Rapp said to O’Brien, “I think you probably understand this more than these two because Irene has been keeping you in the loop.” Rapp grinned and added, “Your kids are all out on their own, and being the salty prick that you are, you’ve put in enough time that you can tell every one of those senators to stick it right up their ass if you feel like.”

“That’s right,” O’Brien said without smiling.

“So my comments are more directed at these two, but I think you’ll want to hear them as well.” Rapp looked at Nash and then Ridley and said, “We’ve spent the last six years avoiding this fight. And I mean this shit right here.” Rapp pointed at the ground. “This committee. We’re like an invading army that keeps bypassing cities because we know things are going to get ugly if we go in and try to clean the rat bastards out block by block. We’ve avoided the problem, and now because we didn’t do it right the first time we have this insurgency on our hands. Our supply lines are all fucked up and our confidence is shot. We spend every day looking over our shoulders wondering if our government is going to ambush us.” Nash and Ridley shared a sad knowing exchange and nodded.

Rapp leaned in a few inches and said, “Well, I’m done fucking around. And as two retired Marine combat officers you two should understand this better than most. This fight with the Hill has been coming regardless of whether or not we want it. You know the tactics… if a fight is unavoidable then you might as well pick the time and the place. Take some of the guesswork out of the equation and take the battle to the enemy. As to why I decided to force the issue now… you guys both know the answer to that. This third cell we’ve been worried about… we’ve hit a wall. We don’t know where to even start looking for these guys.”

“So what is all this going to accomplish?” Nash asked. “You trying to put yourself up on the cross? I don’t get it.”

“I’m not into the martyr thing,” Rapp grinned. “You know that. What I’m trying to do is bring this thing to a head.”

“Why?” asked Ridley. “Why now?”

“Because I think we’re going to get hit. And I just told you, I’d rather choose the time and place of the fight. Have you noticed that not a single senator has bothered to ask me why I would take such a gamble running an op like this?”

The other three men shared a look and said, “No.”

“It’s because they’re so stuck in their own world. We’ve allowed them to depict us as a bunch of goons who smack prisoners around because we get some sick, sadistic thrill out of it. They hold us accountable, but we never hold them accountable.”

“How in the hell are we going to hold them accountable?” O’Brien asked in his raspy voice.

“By telling them about these other two cells and letting them know the third one is on the loose.”