Kennedy left her large briefcase in the backseat and grabbed a brown leather folder. She stepped from the car and stood on the curb for a second. Her shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in a simple black clip that matched her black pantsuit and black shoes. Kennedy slid a hand between her blue blouse and her pants waist to make sure the shirt was tucked in. She adjusted her glasses and then set off through the door and into the West Wing where she was stopped by another Secret Service officer. Kennedy flashed her badge and signed her name in the logbook. From there she went upstairs and straight to the president's gatekeeper, Betty Rodgers, a DC native and extremely competent assistant.

Betty's office was small, like most of the rooms in the West Wing with the exception of the Oval Office and Cabinet Room. Betty looked up at Kennedy over the top of her reading spectacles. She was in her early fifties, but she already had that grandmotherly look. She pursed her lips as if she had something to say and then stopped.

Kennedy liked Betty, which was important. As the president's top assistant she got to see some of the country's most treasured secrets. She was someone who needed to be tough and discreet. She was both.

"Good evening, Betty."

"Irene, what have you been up to?" Betty asked in a friendly but accusatory tone.

"Very little."

"That's not what I've heard, honey. You've got some very angry people in there. They've been burning up the phones all day."

Kennedy cared about their reaction, but she was most interested in getting a read on the top boss. "How is the president?"

"Different."

"How do you mean, different?"

"I don't know…he just hasn't been himself lately. It has nothing to do with your little trip to Switzerland. He's actually been pretty calm about that. It's the other ones who've been raising a stink. They all called individually to complain and then they came over here together at lunch to do it all over again." Betty took her glasses off and let them hang from the chain around her neck. In a hushed voice she asked, "I hope you got what you were looking for, because they want to burn you at the stake."

Kennedy smiled and patted her brown leather folder.

"Good." Betty looked at her watch. "Get in there and give them hell. And be quick about it. I have dinner plans."

Kennedy thanked her and entered the Oval Office. They were all waiting for her. The president, Ross, Secretary of State Berg, Attorney General Stokes, and even Vice President Baxter. Baxter and the president were sitting in the two chairs directly in front of the fireplace. The power chairs. Ross, Berg, and Stokes were lined up on one couch like a firing squad. The identical couch opposite was empty. That was where they wanted her to sit. Isolated, like some child being called to the principal's office. Kennedy gladly accepted her seat of solitude. She set her leather folder on the glass coffee table and leaned back, confident that their argument would be emotional whereas she had some pretty damning evidence on her side.

Ross was the first to speak. He was wearing another one of his perfectly tailored Brooks Brothers suits. It was dark blue, almost black, and made out of a light wool. He had on a white shirt with some type of special weave, the kind that costs more than some people's monthly rent. His silver tie complemented his silver and black hair. Just two weeks ago Kennedy remembered thinking the man was handsome. Now all she saw was a man obsessed with his own vanity.

Ross shifted his position on the couch and straightened up a bit. He looked at Kennedy with a no-nonsense glare and asked, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Kennedy shook her head. She wanted to draw them out.

"Well, let me tell you how my day went," Ross said in an irritated tone. "Shortly before lunch I got a call from Secretary of State Berg. She wanted to know if I knew you were in Switzerland." Ross glanced at the president and then back at Kennedy. "Do you think it's acceptable to leave the country and not inform me?"

"You're a busy man, Mark. I didn't want to bother you."

"Not a good move."

Kennedy shrugged.

Ross was visibly irritated by her casual attitude. "Do you have any idea the problems you've caused today? The Swiss foreign minister called Beatrice this morning," Ross pointed to the Secretary of State, "and raised holy hell over your unannounced visit."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to know what in the hell you were doing in his country meeting privately with five of his top bankers."

Attorney General Stokes leaned forward. "I have a major case pending in front of the Swiss courts right now. We have been working on it for years. So help me God, if you've screwed it up, you and I are going to have some big problems."

Stokes was clearly upset. Kennedy figured he and Ross had been feeding off of each other's anger. They were the two career politicians, and next to the vice president the two men who would more than likely run for president at some point. Kennedy found it interesting that Secretary of State Berg was sitting out the first round.

"Do you know what happened in Riyadh today?" Ross asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know anything about it?"

"That's a pretty open-ended question."

"Do you know who was responsible?"

"Maybe."

"Would you care to share?"

"No."

"Dammit, Irene," Ross snapped, "do you think this is some game?" Ross flipped open a folder he had on the coffee table. There was a black and white, eight-by-ten surveillance photo inside. "This was sent to me by Prince Muhammad."

Ross spun the photo around so Kennedy could see it. There was a man dressed in traditional Saudi garb walking down a street. Someone had drawn a red circle around him. His arm was extended and he was flipping the surveillance camera the bird. The photo was pretty grainy. Kennedy studied it. He was about the right size, but other than that it was impossible to tell who it was.

"Any idea who that is?"

Kennedy shook her head.

Ross angrily tossed another photo her way. This one showed two men about to embrace. "The man on the left is Waheed Ahmed Abdullah. I assume you know who he is, at least?"

Kennedy nodded.

"Why did we tell the Saudi government that he was dead six months ago?"

"Is this the same Waheed Ahmed Abdullah who was a top lieutenant for al-Qaeda?" Kennedy's tone was one of false confusion. "The same Waheed Ahmed Abdullah that helped finance and plan a terrorist attack earlier this year? An attack that involved smuggling two nuclear weapons into this country?" She studied the photo. "The same Waheed Ahmed Abdullah who wanted to vaporize Washington, DC, and New York City?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you didn't answer mine. Have you read the file on Waheed?"

"I don't need to. I want to know why we're lying to one of our staunchest allies."

"If you think Saudi Arabia is one of our staunchest allies, I humbly suggest that you offer your resignation to the president immediately."

Ross's face flushed with anger. "And I suggest you watch your step, Dr. Kennedy. You are on very thin ice." Ross glanced at the president once again, as if to say, I told you so. He looked back at Kennedy and asked, "Where is Mitch Rapp?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying," barked Ross as he stabbed his finger at the first surveillance photo. "That's him right there. What did we tell you? There was a right way to handle this and a wrong way. Having a vigilante on the loose setting off bombs in Saudi Arabia is most definitely the wrong way."

Kennedy grabbed the third and last surveillance photo. She held it up for Ross and the others. "Who is this man right here? The one Waheed is about to hug?"

"That is Saeed Ahmed Abdullah," Ross answered angrily. "Waheed's father and one of Prince Muhammad bin Rashid's closest friends."