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«Good to see you, Mitch.» The agent stuck out his hand. «You look like shit.»

«Thank you. I feel like shit.» Rapp grabbed his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

«How's A

«Good. Thank you for your help, by the way.»

«Don't worry. I figure we owe you a lot more than that.» Warch started walking and Rapp followed. «How have you been?»

«You want the long version or the short one?»

«I don't think I'm cleared for the long one. Hell, I'm probably not even cleared for the short one.»

Rapp laughed as they entered the EOB. «Come on, Jack, you guys are the eunuchs of the twenty-first century.» Warch placed a hand over his groin. «Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like one.»

The two continued to talk as they left the EOB and crossed over to the White House. They entered through the ground floor and continued straight down the hall and to the right. This was Rapp's first trip back to the White House since the terrorist attack had partially destroyed the building the previous spring. He was amazed at how quickly they had got the West Wing back up and ru

Warch knew what Rapp was thinking and said, «It's pretty amazing isn't it?»

Rapp looked down the hallway toward the White House mess. «Yeah, it really is.»

«The building wasn't as bad as you might have thought. The fire department was here so fast they got the flames put out before they did too much damage;' «Yeah, but still. This is amazing.»

The two men stopped in front of the door that led to the Situation Room. Warch asked, «Mitch, are you carrying?»

«What do you think?»

«I know you are, but I'm trying to be polite.»

Rapp was tempted to make a smart-ass comment, but he knew this was a subject that the Secret Service found little humor in. «Would you like to hold on to my gun for me?»

«Very much so.»

Rapp took his Beretta out of his shoulder holster and checked to make sure the manual safety catch was in the up position. Warch took the weapon and then punched a code into the cipher lock. The door clicked, and the Secret Service agent opened it. Immediately to the left was the door to the conference room. Warch knocked twice and then opened the door. Staying in the hallway, he ushered Rapp into the room and closed the door.

Rapp stood awkwardly for a moment, slightly surprised to see Ke

«Thank you for coming, Mitch. Could you please take a seat?»

Rapp said nothing as he took the first available chair, which was next to Stansfield. He sat and looked briefly at Ke

«How is A

«She's a tough woman. I'm sorry she got caught up in this mess.»

«It's not your fault, sir.»

Hayes wasn't so sure. The president leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. «Mitch, it's been a very bad week.»

«Yes, it has.»

«Irene tells me you want out.»

Rapp was completely caught off-guard. «I'm ready to move on with my life, sir.»





The president looked at Rapp with an unwavering stare. «What if I told you your country couldn't afford to lose you?»

«I'd tell you I'd already given enough to my country.»

The president gri

Rapp felt he was getting sucked into a bad dream. «I'm sorry, sir, but I've already made up my mind. I want a normal life. I've found the right woman, and I'm not going to lose her over a career that I don't even want anymore.»

«Are you sure about that?»

«About what?» Rapp wasn't sure whether the president was referring to the woman he'd found or the career he no longer wanted.

The president folded his hands. «Mitch, a man of your talents can't just turn it off and walk away.»

«Maybe… maybe not, but I'm going to try.»

«Well.» The president had a big smile on his lips. «I think we may have found a nice middle ground.» Hayes turned to the director of the CIA. «Thomas.»

«Mitchell.» Stansfield's voice was tired and slightly slurred. «I'd like to start by saying that I've been in this business for more than fifty years, and I don't know if I've seen anyone as talented and courageous as yourself.»

Rapp looked at Stansfield and replied with a silent nod. The words from the dying legend were worth more than any medal his government could ever give him.

«I have known for some time that I'm dying, and I wanted to put certain things in order before that came to pass. One of those things, Mitchell, was that I wanted to give you your life back.» Stansfield slid a large folder over to Rapp. «This is your official perso

Rapp didn't like what he'd just heard. «I thought it was agreed at the begi

«Yes, that was the plan, but things have changed. Some of your exploits over the last several years have been very hard to keep quiet.» Stansfield looked at Rapp with his steely gray eyes. «This file is my gift to you and to Irene. I created it with the help of Max Salmen. As your file now reads, you have been an NOC with the Agency for the last ten years. Much of what you did is, of course, not contained in that file or is greatly edited. You are now legitimate, Mitchell.»

Rapp was miffed. NOC was an acronym for the Agency's operatives who worked overseas and were not protected by the diplomatic cover of an American embassy or consulate. Rapp stared at the folder in his hands. «Why now? Why after all these years?»

«Because we want you to come inside.»

«At Langley?» asked a disbelieving Rapp.

«Yes. We want you to head up the Middle East desk in the Counterterrorism Center.»

Rapp looked across the table at Ke

«Yes,» Ke

Rapp looked back down at the heavy file and shook his head. He really didn't know where to start. The thought of staying co

«Mitchell,» started Stansfield, «there's something I think you need to know. I'm afraid you weren't the ultimate target in Germany.»

In light of the fact that Rapp had two baseball-size bruises on his chest he found the statement to be slightly irritating. «No offense, Thomas, but I'm the only person in this room who's been shot this week.»

«I didn't say someone didn't want you dead. I said you weren't the ultimate target. Your body was meant to be found next to Count Hagenmiller's. It was meant to embarrass the president, and I think, ultimately, it was meant to ruin Irene's career.»

The president's demeanor changed instantly. This was the first he'd heard of this. «What are you trying to say, Thomas?»

«This was not started by the Iraqis or anyone else. This was initiated by someone here in Washington. Someone who doesn't want to see Irene become the next director of the CIA and someone who quite possibly would like to see your administration toppled, Mr. President.»