Separation of Power

Rielly smiled at Rapp and stuck out her arms. "I think you look great."

"I still feel like shit." Rapp stayed where he was, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"My, you're in a sour mood this morning." Rielly let her arms drop. She studied Mitch briefly and then it dawned on her what was bothering him. "You don't want to go see Irene today, do you?" Rapp mumbled into his coffee cup and Rielly said, "I knew it."

"It's not Irene. I don't mind Irene ... I look forward to seeing Irene."

"Then it's going to Langley?"

"Yeah ... I don't know ... I suppose." Rielly had worried about this, but had kept it to herself. Rielly was a reporter and her job was to observe things ... people, really. From what she observed as NEC's White House correspondent, she had serious doubts as to whether Mitch could make the transition from undercover operative to bureaucratic employee. He was too used to calling the shots and working on his own. At Langley he would have, to be part of a team, and he would have to take orders. But worst of all, Rielly knew, was that he would have to watch what he said. Washington was a town where people often wanted to hear anything but the truth.

Rielly stood and went over to him, kissing him on the cheek. "Whatever you decide to do, honey, I will support you. If you want to stay at home and raise the kids I would think that's just great."

Rapp set his mug down and held up his hands, forming a "T" like a basketball referee. "Technical foul. No overt discussion of marriage, weddings or children until you have a ring on your finger."

Rielly scoffed at him. "That's your stupid rule, not mine. You know we're going to get married, and I know we're going to get married." She pinched his waist and with a playful smile said, "So let's get the show on the road."

Rapp grabbed her by the shoulders. "I've been just a little busy lately." He glanced over at a spot on the other side of the kitchen where just two weeks earlier he'd shot and killed a man. "I'd like to get some things straightened out before we take the big step."

Rielly waved off his caution saying, "Yeah ... yeah, there's always something." She turned to leave."I have to get to the White House. I'll call you later."

Rapp followed her to the front door. "You're not mad, are you?" "No," Rielly said in a light voice. "I really do have to get to work, and you," she grabbed him by the chin, "have to get ready for your meeting." He rolled his eyes, and she kissed him on the lips. "It won't be that bad. Try to go into it with an open mind. Now I really have to get going. Call me and let me know how it goes."

"Unless you have access to the President's secure phone I think we'll have to wait until tonight to discuss my job offer."

"Oh, that's right. I always forget how paranoid you people are." Rielly opened the door.

"Hey, what do I always tell you? Just because you're paranoid--"

Rielly was halfway across the porch. Without turning around she yelled, "I know ... I know .. just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't following you."

Rapp smiled as he watched A

Rielly stopped, and with a genuine smile, she looked at Mitch in his white boxer briefs and said. "I love you, too. Now get back in the house and put some clothes on before the neighbors see you."

CHAPTER THREE.

The White House, Monday morning

The sun shone brightly through the colo

On the President's right was Senator Moeller, a Democrat and the ranking minority member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. To his right was chairman of the Joint Chiefs General Flood. On the President's left were Senator Clark, the chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and the President's national security advisor, Michael Haik. Aides and staffers filled the remaining seats. Photos were snapped almost continually by two photographers from the White House press pool while a cameraman from one of the networks shot video of the meeting. Two reporters waited dutifully for the signal from the White House press secretary to give them the nod to start asking questions. They had been briefed on the purpose of the meeting and were told what would be permitted and what was out of bounds.

President Hayes, a moderate Democrat from Columbus, Ohio, knew both men on either side of him well, from his years in the Senate. He conversed freely with them and even cracked a few jokes while the cameras snapped away. It was what was called in Washington a staged love-test: the two parties coming together, putting aside their differences and doing the right thing. President Hayes was handsome in a clean-cut way. A shade over six feet, he had thin brown hair that was turning grayer by the month. Hayes stayed thin by putting in thirty minutes on his treadmill or bike four or five days a week. He almost always worked out first thing in the morning, knowing it was usually the only time when someone wasn't trying to get a piece of him.

Hayes checked his watch and then nodded to the press secretary, signaling that it was time to start the questions.

Because space was often limited, it was not possible for the entire White House press corps to attend every event. Instead, there was a pool out of which reporters and photographers would take turns covering events, and then share the material they collected. It was A

"Good Morning, Mr. President. Will there be a memorial service here in Washington to honor Director Stansfield?"

"No. Director Stansfield was adamant before he died that he wanted a simple private burial in South Dakota. The CIA is pla

"Have you come to any decisions on who will succeed him at the CIA?"

"As a matter of fact we have." Hayes looked to both of his former colleagues. "We have stumbled across one of those increasingly rare moments of mutual agreement." Hayes laughed and the others joined in. "With very little difficulty we have decided on the one person who is best suited to take over as the new director of Central Intelligence." The President looked to his left and said, "Hank, why don't you do the honors." Rielly was slightly surprised. This truly was a unified front to have a Republican senator a

Rielly turned her green eyes on the well-liked senator from Arizona and asked, "Senator Clark?"

"The truth is, we didn't have to look very hard, or very far, to find the best man for the job." Clark winked at Rielly over his intentional disregard for the politics of political correctness. "The best man for the job is a woman who is currently ru