FORTY SEVEN.

    Rapp had never really taken the time to look around the Oval Office. He was usually ushered in, sat where he was told, and then left as soon as his audience with the President was over.

    This time, having declined to sit, he meandered around the room checking out the various pieces of art and waiting for the President to appear.

    It was painful knowing that Anna was downstairs in her office.

    During the ride over from Langley he had relayed his version of last night's events to his boss. She informed him in the gentlest of ways that he had neglected to do the single most important thing, which was to simply say he was sorry.

    Rapp told Kennedy he felt torn. Yes, he was sorry that he'd hurt his wife's feelings, but she didn't marry an advertising executive. His injury shouldn't have been entirely unexpected. Kennedy stressed that, expected or unexpected, it didn't change the fact that in her mind Anna could have lost the man she had just promised to spend the rest of her life with. Kennedy asked Rapp how he would feel if the shoe were on the other foot and it was Anna who had been shot.

    The thought of losing Anna sent such a pain through him that he began to see her point more clearly. When he was done with this meeting he would have to find her and apologize. Maybe he could even milk the shiner for a little sympathy. Despite his injury, he desperately wanted to be alone with her.

    Rapp was studying a portrait of Thomas Jefferson when Valerie Jones entered the office. For some reason she was all smiles, which as far as Rapp could recollect was a first.

    "Good morning, Irene," she said.

    Kennedy replied with a simple, Hello' Val

    Jones turned her attention to Rapp.

    "How are you, Mitch?"

    Rapp remained facing the portrait of one of America's greatest Presidents. Instead of turning around he looked over his shoulder at the chief of staff. He and Jones had never gotten along. In fact, he could think of no other woman who he currently detested more.

    Regarding her suspiciously he answered, "I've been better," then returned his attention to the portrait of Jefferson.

    "Oh… that's too bad. How'd you get the black eye?"

    Fortunately for Rapp the President entered the room before he could answer.

    "Sorry I'm late." Hayes dropped a leather-bound folder on his desk and hurried over to greet Rapp.

    "Mitch, once again you saved the day. Great job over there in the Philippines."

    "Thank you, sir." Rapp took his hand.

    The President's attention locked in on Rapp's shiner.

    "Did things get a little rough for you over there?"

    "Not too bad." Rapp shrugged it off.

    "It looks like it hurts."

    Rapp shook his head.

    "No… not really. I've had worse."

    The President nodded.

    "Yes, I suppose you have. Well, listen, have a seat." Hayes gestured to the couch opposite Kennedy and Jones.

    "There are a few things we want to discuss with you."

    "If it's all right with you, sir, I'd prefer to stand."

    Hayes stopped and gave Rapp a questioning glance.

    "It's my back, sir. If I sit down, I might not be able to get up."

    "Oh I see. By all means… stand if it feels better." Hayes took his usual chair in front of the fireplace.

    "Well," said the President, "at eleven o'clock the Secretary of State and the Attorney General are going to hold a joint press conference announcing the prosecution of Assistant Secretary of State Petry and Ambassador Cox."

    Rapp was shocked. He'd figured the President would string him along for another few weeks, and then let the issue die down.

    "That's good news, sir."

    Hayes looked up at Rapp, who was standing behind the couch on his right.

    "I'm told Mr. McMahon has Ambassador Cox in custody, and is on his way back?"

    Rapp nodded.

    "That's right. The embassy staff was told the Ambassador had to rush home for a family emergency."

    Good. The National Security Council is meeting next door as we speak. If you're still up for it I've arranged for you to be present when Assistant Secretary Petry is arrested."

    "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

    Hayes nodded and then turned to Kennedy.

    "Now on to an issue that isn't so good… What in the hell is going on in Israel?"

    "I'm working on that, sir." The director of the CIA retrieved a file from her briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She handed it to the President and said, "That is a list of the terrorists who were killed in the attack."

    Hayes put on his reading glasses and scanned the names.

    "Holy cow! Is this for real?"

    "As far as I can tell, yes, but the CTC is working to verify the names through other sources."

    President Hayes stood to reread the list for a second time.

    "What's the death count?"

    "Again, the CTC is trying to verify the number, but right now the Palestinians are saying over one hundred people were killed."

    "Is that possible?" asked a skeptical Hayes.

    Kennedy hesitated and then said, "Yes."

    "But I thought they always exaggerated those numbers."

    "They might not have to this time."

    Hayes kept studying the list, even though he was thinking about something else.

    "Of those hundred people, how many were terrorists?"

    "Right now we're guessing anywhere from twenty to forty, but I stress that is only a guess."

    "And the whole bomb factory story that the Israeli's have been putting out?"

    Kennedy shook her head.

    "It doesn't hold up. We have satellite imagery and radio intercepts of the attack. There was an initial explosion that we haven't been able to pinpoint. That blast destroyed the house where we think the meeting was taking place, and then there were a series of explosions that followed."

    "Where did those come from?" asked the President.

    Kennedy hesitated for a second, knowing the President would not like the answer.

    "They appear to have come from helicopter-launched missiles."

    "Appear to have?" Hayes wanted a more precise answer.

    "The imagery people are saying they were Hellfire missiles launched from Apaches."

    "Back up a minute," ordered the President.

    "Freidman told you that his people found out about this meeting and fired two missiles into the target area that ignited a secondary explosion that leveled the entire block. Correct?"

    "That's what he told me, sir."

    "And now you're telling me," said Hayes with a frown creasing his brow, "there was an initial explosion that we have not been able to identify, that was followed by a series of explosions that were caused by Hellfire missiles."

    "Yes."

    "How many?"

    "Sixteen of them, sir."

    "Sixteen?" asked an incredulous President.

    "I'm afraid so."

    "Why so many?"

    "I have absolutely no idea."

    "Have you asked him?"

    Kennedy considered the question.

    "No I haven't, sir. I wanted to discuss it with you first."

    "Well, by all means"-Hayes gestured to the bulky secure phone on his desk-"get him on the phone."

    "Sir," cautioned the director of the CIA.

    "I'd like to do a little more digging before we confront him."

    Hayes was not in a patient mood.

    "The Palestinian Ambassador to the UN is going to address the assembly this afternoon and demand that the UN make a full inquiry into this mess. The Saudi Ambassador called me this morning to protest the slaughter of hundreds of innocent civilians."

    Hayes shook his fist in anger.

    "This thing is not simply going to go away.

    I can get our Ambassador to delay a vote by the Security Council until the end of the week, but we will not be able to put it off indefinitely. I need real answers, and I need to know what in the hell the Israelis are up to. I also need to know what our allies know. If we know they're lying, there's a good chance a few other countries know it too."

    "I'll get started on it right away, sir."

    "And Freidman," snarled the President.

    "I want him to either start playing by the rules he agreed to, or we will terminate our arrangement and he can kiss his ass goodbye."

    Kennedy nodded and told herself now was not the time to disagree with the President. The entire relationship with Freidman was fraught with potential disaster. The President could call up the Israeli prime minister and demand that Freidman be removed from his position as director general of Mossad, but even with the evidence they had, it might not work. Ben Freidman had files on everybody. She had a sneaking suspicion that if Freidman was ever really backed into a corner he would use those files to take down anyone and everyone. There wasn't a thing that he wouldn't rationalize if it was done to help preserve either himself or his country.

    In a confident voice, Kennedy told her boss, "We'll find out what really happened over there, sir."

    "Good." Only slightly satisfied, the President turned to Rapp.

    "And, Mitch, I want you to take a very personal interest in this thing.

    You know a side of Freidman that no one else at Langley does. I want to know why he's lying to us, and I want to know what you think we should do about it."

    "Yes, sir." Rapp had a few ideas, but they would take some looking into. In the meantime he was betting on his initial suspicion. Ben Freidman had only one master, his country, and no matter how closely they held his feet to the fire, he would never betray Israel.