Vince Flynn - The Third Option

KENNEDY WAS ALONE in her office, thinking about Rapp and the traitor in their midst who had almost gotten him killed. Marcus Dumond was keeping her informed on the progress he was making with Rapp and Coleman. The deputy director of Central Intelligence had stopped by to pepper her with questions about her testimony to the House Intelligence Committee. It was surprisingly easy to lie to Jonathan Brown, despite the fact that he was a former federal judge. Stansfield had taught her well. Once you learned to control your emotions, it was nearly impossible for an adversary to discern if you were telling the truth. As with a great poker player, the name of the game was to keep a straight face whether you were holding a royal flush or a pair of twos. Under Stansfield's tutelage, Kennedy had mastered the skill. The only person in the world who could consistently get a reaction out of her was her son, Tommy. Not even her ex-husband had been able to do it. He sure as hell had tried, but he had failed miserably; Kennedy didn't harbor any ill will toward him. When she looked back on the marriage, it was easy to see it was destined for failure from the moment she took the job as the director of the Counterterrorism Center. There weren't enough hours left over after running the CTC to be both a good mother and a good wife.

The phone on her desk emitted a soft tone, and then a voice came over the intercom. «Irene, Congressman O'Rourke is here to see you.»

Without looking up, Kennedy said, «Show him in, please.»

O'Rourke entered Kennedy's office with a slightly troubled look on his face.

«Hello, Irene.» O'Rourke sat down in one of two chairs across from Kennedy's desk. He was wearing a three-button brown suit with a white shirt and tie.

«Good afternoon, Michael.»

Never one to waste time or words, O'Rourke said, «I'm sorry about this morning. Chairman Rudin is a real ass.»

«I hope you'll forgive me if I don't expand on that.»

«No… I understand.» O'Rourke crossed and then uncrossed his legs. «About that name I brought up this morning?»

Kennedy wasn't going to make this easy. She stared back at O'Rourke with her brown eyes, waiting for him to expand.

«You do remember the name I mentioned?»

«Yes.»

«Well, what can you tell me about him?»

«Absolutely nothing.»

O'Rourke leaned forward. «Come on, Irene. I deserve an answer.» Kennedy continued to sit calmly behind her desk. «Can you at least tell me if you know him?»

Kennedy had thought this through thoroughly. «Michael, let me ask you something. If someone, let's say one of your colleagues, were to come to me and ask if I knew your grandfather, how would you want me to answer them?»

O'Rourke began fidgeting with his wedding ring. He knew Kennedy would bring this up, and that was why he had dreaded coming here. He had hoped to get a quick answer from her while they were on his home turf, but he should have known better. The story was long, twisted, and bloody. When O'Rourke left the Marine Corps, he went to work for Senator Erik Olson. His best friend, roommate, and fellow staffer during those wild years had been Mark Coleman, the younger brother of Scott Coleman. Mark had been tragically killed just two blocks from the Capitol one night on his way home from work. His assailant was a strung-out crack addict who had been released from the D.C. jail because of overcrowding. The effect it had on O'Rourke was devastating. It was during this time of grieving that O'Rourke had learned of a cover-up involving a prominent senator and a blown covert operation that had cost a dozen SEALs their lives. The commander of those SEALs was none other than Scott Coleman, the older brother of Mark. Michael had labored over telling Coleman that it was Senator Fitzgerald who had blown his operation in northern Libya. It was O'Rourke's grandfather Seamus who had convinced him he should tell Coleman. The reasoning was simple: if Michael were still in the Corps, and it was his men who had been killed, he would want to know.

O'Rourke rated his decision to tell Coleman the identity of his betrayer as one of the worst in his life. Roughly a year after telling him about Senator Fitzgerald's role in the disaster, O'Rourke awoke to the startling news that Fitzgerald had been assassinated along with two other prominent Washington politicians. In the bloodbath that played itself out over the next week, more people were killed, including Senator Olson and the president's national security advisor. The most damaging piece of information was that O'Rourke's grandfather had been directly involved with Coleman and his team of disgruntled former Navy SEALs. He had funded their mini-revolution and helped them plan it.

Congressman O'Rourke had been assured by Director Stansfield that the involvement of Scott Coleman and Seamus O'Rourke would never be made public. Not even President Hayes or his predecessor, President Stevens, knew the whole story.

O'Rourke decided that the best way to handle Kennedy's question was to ignore it and try a different approach. «Do you know who Anna Rielly is?»

«Of course.»

«Do you know that she dates Mitch Rapp?»

«If you say so.»

«Come on, Irene. Don't play these games with me. I need an answer.»

«I'm not playing games with you, Michael. You refused to answer my question.»

«What question?» asked O'Rourke with a frown.

Calmly, Kennedy asked it again. «If someone came to me and asked if I knew your grandfather, how would you want me to answer them?»

«I don't see what Mitch Rapp has to do with my grandfather.»

Kennedy looked him straight in the eye and replied, «Yes, you do. I know you are fully capable of grasping the principle at hand. It's a very important one in this line of work, in fact it is our cornerstone. It's called secrecy.»

«Yeah… yeah… I know. I've heard it all before, but this is different. You can trust me.»

«Can I?» asked Kennedy with a raised eyebrow.

«You know you can. You have a gun to my head. If you wanted to, you could end my career tomorrow.»

«Something tells me you wouldn't mind that, Michael.»

«Yeah, well, you might be right, but you're still the one holding the gun. Maybe you should put me out of my misery. It'd give me a good excuse to get out of this town.»

«Don't say that. I have no desire to cause you any harm. We need more people like you on the Hill.»

O'Rourke ignored the compliment, not sure if it was sincere or self-serving. «Here's my problem, Irene. My wife's best friend is Anna Rielly. They went to the University of Michigan together. Anna is in head over heels with this Mitch Rapp fellow. My wife tells me they are going to get married. I like the guy. We spend a fair amount of time with them going out to dinner, taking in an occasional ball game, stuff like that. We've even been to his house on the bay. I've noticed some thing about him.» O'Rourke stopped to get a read from Kennedy, but she gave him nothing. «I'd swear the guy has had some military training at some point. You can see it in the way he carries himself, except he's a little more refined, not…» O'Rourke searched for the right word. «Not as mechanical. I could give you a list a mile long on little stuff that I've noticed. Last Saturday, my wife gets an e-mail from this guy. He wants us to do him a favor. Go out to his house and pick up Anna. In the e-mail he assures us that he is all right but that he wants us to take care of Anna until he tells us things have settled down.» O'Rourke paused a little, still unnerved by the next piece of information. «At me end of the note, he wrote, I know all about Seamus, Michael and Scott C. Now, as far as I'm concerned, that entitles me to know just who in me hell this Mitch Rapp is.» O'Rourke sat back and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for a reply.