That was her price tag, and now she found herself embroiled in this Greek tragedy, bloodstained hands and all, a life growing inside her, sired by a man who had just killed a pregnant woman and had not shown an ounce of remorse. Louie's complete lack of shame, or even regret, had been the thing that woke her up from this bad dream. She understood that mistakes were made, but to be so headstrong as to not even acknowledge them was repulsive. For the first time in all the years she'd loved him she did not like what she saw. In her eyes Louie had turned into a monster.

What the gods had in store for her and her unborn child she was too afraid to even consider. Somehow, though, she knew she needed to make things right. There was the past, and there was nothing she could do about that, but she could try to make amends. She doubted she could redeem herself, but maybe she could make things right for her baby. She could not bring Anna Rielly and the beating heart of her baby back, but she could repent and do her best to make things right. Claudia now knew with complete conviction what she must do.

Wiping the tears from her face she stood and walked into the living room. She hit the space bar on her laptop to bring it out of sleep mode and then logged onto the Internet. There were two more messages from the German. She read them quickly. They were essentially angrier versions of ones he'd already sent. Abel wanted the money back or the job finished. If they didn't comply he was going to hunt them to the ends of the earth. The German was lucky Louie wasn't here to read them, because if he had, he'd get on the next plane to Europe and Abel would be dead before Monday morning arrived. Claudia had already decided he wasn't going to get the money back. In fact, Abel was about to have much bigger problems.

Claudia had found the person's e-mail account earlier in the day. It had not been difficult. She simply punched in the person's name and then added @cia.gov. The initial try didn't work, so she added a period between the first and last names and sent it again. This time it went through. With her fingers poised above the keyboard she took a deep breath and began typing. Claudia worked on the message for nearly an hour, and then deleted nearly everything she had written. There was too much. She would have to start out slow, with a simple apology, and see where it went from there.

Claudia maneuvered the arrow until it rested on the send tab. Her finger remained poised above the pad ready to tap it and send the message on its way. Claudia hesitated a moment, and then the little voice in the back of her head, the one she had ignored for the last six years, told her to do it. Claudia tapped the mouse pad, and the laptop beeped. The words MESSAGE SENT popped up on the screen, and she knew there was no turning back.

60

What do you mean, he's gone?" snapped Ross.

Kennedy regarded him carefully, jammed her fingers into the pressure points on each palm and told herself to stay calm. "He's gone, Mark."

"I heard you." Ross brought his hands up like he wanted to choke someone. "How in the hell did he just vanish?"

"Maybe we should wait for the president," Kennedy said in a reasonable voice. She didn't want to have to repeat herself, and she had no doubt that Ross would be more civil with his boss in the room.

It was Sunday afternoon, and Ross had just finished playing eighteen holes with the president, the party's chairman, and one of the party's chief fundraisers. Kennedy had been tempted to call the president after the attack, but by the time she'd caught her breath it was past midnight, and as a general rule she never disturbed the president's sleep unless she needed him to make a decision. She'd thought about calling Ross, thought about how the call would go, and knew immediately that the longer she could put off bringing him into the loop the easier her life would be. There was too much to do, and he would want to be calling the shots.

So she had delayed it as long as she could, and now she was here to deliver the bad news and watch Ross freak out. Kennedy had not slept a wink. In addition to her professional duties, she had to contend with her son and how he was handling the trauma. Fortunately, Steven Rapp had understood that she needed to manage the situation and that Tommy needed someone to reassure him that everything was all right. So while she tried to sort out the mayhem, Steven and Tommy were escorted back to her house by a beefed-up security detail. The most difficult part had been explaining to Tommy that Vince Delgado and Mike Burton had been killed.

She'd arrived back at her house a little before ten in the morning. Tommy woke up, came down the hall, and the first thing he asked her was what happened to Vince and Mike. They had been on her personal protection detail for more than a year and she knew Tommy was attached to both men, especially Vince. She would break the news to their family members herself, but it would have to wait until she took care of a few things.

Ross was her chief concern. There were several things that she had done in the last fourteen hours that he would not like, but he was not someone who was well suited to consider the long-term needs of the CIA. She had timed her arrival at the presidential retreat to coincide with them getting back from their golf outing. She'd been waiting in the Aspen Lodge by herself for a little more than fifteen minutes, which had given her some extra time to think about how she would handle Ross. It was during this brief calm in a tumultuous week that she stumbled upon the key to dealing with Mark Ross. She was a little surprised she hadn't thought of it before, but she was not the type of person who tried to play her superiors.

Ross had no intention of waiting for the president and he pressed Kennedy by asking, "When did this happen?"

Kennedy glanced over Ross's shoulder toward the door. "Last night."

"When?"

"Around ten o'clock."

Ross's jaw went slack and his eyes narrowed. Now it was his turn to look over his shoulder. When he was sure they were still alone he turned his angry eyes back to Kennedy and said, "It is two in the afternoon. Would you mind telling me why in the hell it took you so long to inform me?"

Vanity, Kennedy thought to herself. That's the key. "Mark," she leaned in and spoke as if they'd known each other for years, "you know what's going on here today?"

Ross looked confused.

"No one is thrilled with Vice President Baxter's performance." Kennedy paused and let the innuendo hang there for a few seconds. "He's been a drag in the polls, and there's been a lot of talk about replacing him on the ticket." She moved in even closer and whispered, "I know there was a reason the president asked you to play golf today."

Ross took in a deep breath and nodded.

Kennedy could tell by the expression on his face that he'd already thought of this. It didn't matter that he didn't know the president wasn't running for reelection and it wouldn't matter in a month when he announced that he wasn't. Ross would take that news as an opportunity. He'd just have to wait and see who was going to be the front-runner and get them lined up in his sights.

"You're on the short list, Mark. Today was your interview. I didn't want to screw that up by dropping this on you right before you teed off, or worse, cut your round short."

Ross was speechless for a moment and then just as he was about to comment on Kennedy's revelation the president entered the room.

"Irene," Hayes said as he came over to them. He was dressed in a golf shirt, sweater vest, and slacks. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. What's the problem?"