Executive Power

There were a few rare exceptions. A select number of Senators and Congressmen could really keep their mouths shut, and they were the people who for the most part had gravitated toward serving on the intelligence committees. The real plums for the egos on the Hill had always been Judicial, Appropriations, Finance and Armed Services. These were the committees that were most likely to garner them air time and enable them to fu

Turbes kept a close eye on these people and had shared many of his concerns with Ke

Rapp grabbed a pot from under the stove, filled it with water and placed it on the burner. While waiting for it to come to a boil he decided to check to see if they had any messages. There were two for A

A

She greeted Shirley and then set down her heavy black bag. After hanging her coat in the front hall closet she entered the kitchen with arms folded and stopped on the other side of the small center island.

Looking down, she fingered a stack of mail, most of it junk.

Rapp dumped the noodles into the colander sitting in the base of the sink and looked through the rising steam at his wife, who so far had not acknowledged him. Deciding to take Ke

A

Rapp watched her intently, not quite sure how this little game was supposed to proceed. With each passing second of her silence he grew a bit more irritated. He'd made the first step and she could at least thank him for trying. In a voice void of his earlier conciliatory tone he asked, "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

She shrugged her shoulders and continued looking through the mail.

"I don't like this," she said without looking at him.

"I don't like being so out of control. No one has ever made me this angry. This is not who I am."

Rapp wasn't sure if he should reply, but something told him he should just keep his mouth shut and listen.

"I've never known anyone like you. There's no relationship book out there on how to be married to a spy."

Rapp smiled.

"I'm not a spy."

"You know what I mean." She kept her arms folded and looked him in the eye for the first time.

Rapp nodded in silence.

"I understand that I didn't marry a businessman. I know who you are, and I respect you and love you for everything you've done, but you have to remember, you didn't marry a nincompoop who waits dutifully for you to come home every night and never asks a single question other than "How was your day?"

A

"That's not who I am… that's not who my mother was. I'm not going to live a separate life from you. I need to know what you're doing. I need to be kept in the loop." She paused at the sight of her husband frowning.

"Mitch, contrary to what you think, I know how to keep my mouth shut, and I'm sure as hell not going to say anything to anyone that might jeopardize your safety."

"What about national security?" he asked.

"I'm not asking to know the names of the CIA's informants in Iraq. I want to know about you. The hardest part about all this is having no idea where you are, or what you're doing."

It was all so strange for Rapp. He'd spent his entire adult life never having to explain to anyone anything about his job. It was something that he'd always kept tightly segmented from his personal life. The entire idea of opening up and sharing any of it with anyone was foreign to the point of making him almost claustrophobic. Even though he felt this way he knew she made sense. If she were to suddenly leave the country with barely a moment's notice, and give him no explanation of where she was going, how long she would be gone, or what she'd be doing, it would drive him insane. There had to be some type of a middle ground where they could meet.

Finally he said the only thing he could.

"I can't argue with a single thing you've said, but you have to understand it won't be easy for me. I'm not exactly a great communicator."

This made A

"No you're not, but admitting it is half the battle."

Seeing her smile made him feel better almost instantly.

"Well, I promise I'll work on it, but you have to promise me you won't push too hard. Spouse or not… there are certain things I can't tell you."

"And you need to promise me that you're not going to lead any more commando raids."

Rapp sighed and agreed. A

"I promise." He held out his arms and A

"I'm sorry, A

"I know you are." A

"I'm glad you're home, and now you're never going to leave again."

Rapp ignored her and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

"Good. Have a seat." Rapp pulled out a barstool for her and poured a glass of wine. Efficiently, he prepared two plates of steaming noodles and added a healthy dose of red sauce to each. He grated a little Parmesan cheese and sprinkled it on top of each plate.

Giving him one of her piercing looks, she said, "So what do we have to do to make sure you never get involved in something like this again?"

Rapp wasn't exactly crazy about his wife's choice of words. He was a man of action, and the phrase "never get involved" had far too much finality to it. To buy some time, he said, "Irene and I are going to talk about it… go over some guidelines for what I should and shouldn't be involved in."

A

"I know this isn't easy for you, honey, but you've sacrificed enough. It's time to let some other people carry the load. My dad's been a cop for over thirty years. He didn't spend all of them kicking down doors and chasing bad guys."