Separation of Power

by Vince Flynn

  He was angry at her for not appreciating his sacrifices. He'd killed for his country, he'd bled for his country and they hit one little bump in the road and she was gone. He'd even killed for her once, but he wasn't about to hold that over her head. He would never stoop so low. She either loved him, or she didn't. And right now it looked like she didn't. Rapp didn't know a lot about love, but he knew a lot about commitment and loyalty, and in his mind one of the worst things you could do is run away from your partner. People who really love each other stay and work it out. They don't run. Not Rielly, though, she didn't even give him the chance to explain.

  He kept telling himself to withhold judgment on Rielly until he had some time to calm down, but he couldn't help it. The more he thought about her storming out of their hotel room the more it angered him. He had to ask himself if that was the type of woman he wanted to be married to and it scared him that he didn't know the answer. He loved her so much it hurt. It pained him that they were so close to having their life together and then, wham, their whole dream was derailed by one bizarre night in Milan.

  Rapp was not good at grays. He liked black and white. Gray made for indecision, and indecision in his line of work was what got you killed. The plane was now floating just above the runway. He was almost home on American soil. The wheels gently touched down and Rapp decided on a plan of action. Rielly would have to wait. He wanted out, but he couldn't just abandon Kennedy. She was his friend, and unlike Rielly, he wasn't about to abandon her. He had to see this other business through, and then he would go to Rielly and explain everything. If she truly loved him, she would accept his apology and give one of her own. If she didn't, no matter how painful that proposition seemed, it was for the better. He would have to move on with his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

  Andrews Air Force base, Friday morning

  Irene Kennedy checked her watch. She stood at the door of a large gray metal airplane hangar. Her armor-plated limousine was parked outside about forty feet away. Her security detail was relaxing, leaning against the black gas-guzzler. She sipped hot black coffee from a large travel mug and looked out across the tarmac. The sun wasn't up yet, and despite winter's approach it was surprisingly warm and humid. The air was stagnant with pockets of low lying fog hugging the tree line at the end of the runway. Andrews Air Force Base was a busy place, but not where Kennedy was situated. The hangar that the CIA leased from the air force was on a remote part of the base.

  There was a 7:00 a. m. meeting at the Pentagon, and Kennedy needed some one-on-one time to prepare Rapp before the Special Forces guys got their hands on him. Not only did they need to discuss the Iraqi matter, she also wanted more information on Donatella and Ben Freidman. Rapp had given her very few details. She thought that he might fill her in once the plane was over the Atlantic, but she'd been wrong. Whatever else Rapp had to say about her counterpart in Israel, he would not trust to even the Air Force's secure communications equipment, and she didn't blame him. Information of this nature not only needed to be kept from the prying ears of foreigners but also from certain groups in America. When Kennedy had tried to press for details, Rapp had only one word for her: Pollard. The innuendo was clear. Jonathan Pollard was an American caught spying for Israel in the eighties. Pollard's treason had compromised every communiqué sent and received by the U. S. Navy for almost a decade. Israel was masterful at recruiting agents in the U. S. and Kennedy firmly believed there were more Jonathan Pollards out there.

  It was human nature to think that only other people had problems. Many parents were slow to believe that their little darling could be causing trouble in school. Other people's children did that. The intelligence community worked the same way. When the navy was caught with a spy in their midst, the air force, the army, the CIA, the FBI, and everybody else pretty much shook their heads and said, "they blew it." Well, Kennedy was a realist. Everybody spied and that pretty much meant everybody was spied on. She remembered the dark days at Langley when Aldrich Ames had been caught by the FBI. Morale was not good during that period, but Kennedy always hearkened to something her boss had said. Thomas Stansfield had been the deputy director of operations at the time. His job, as it had been for over fifty years, was to recruit spies in foreign countries. During the Ames fiasco he had told a conference room full of whining CIA executives that it was the cost of doing business. You can't go into a boxing ring and expect to never get hit, and you can't be in the spying business without getting spied on.

  Stansfield had been a big man. He knew how to stay above the petty everyday dealings of Washington. He used to say that ninety-nine percent of the talk in Washington was utterly worthless. To him the key was to take nothing personally and remember the old axiom: whatever goes around comes around. Well, he couldn't have been more prophetic when it came to the Ames case. It was no secret that the FBI and the CIA did not always get along. During the fifties, sixties, seventies and eighties the battles were legendary, and the Ames case only deepened the divide. The FBI adopted a very overt smugness toward the CIA. With Ames, the FBI gloated over how talented they were and how inept the CIA was. Stansfield had said to Kennedy and his other people, "Don't worry, the FBI has a few Aldrich Ameses of their own, they just haven't caught them yet."

  Stansfield had been right, and almost seven years after the Ames case the CIA returned the favor to the FBI when an agent in Moscow told his CIA controller about an FBI special agent named Robert Hanssen. It was the FBI's turn to suffer the humiliation of a traitor in their midst.

  All of this was a reminder to her to be cautious. Kennedy took a sip of coffee, and appreciated Rapp's paranoia. They had to communicate via long distances. There was no way around it. They were, after all, in the information exchange business. They just had to be careful' who they exchanged the info with. Rapp had made the right call in waiting to tell her in person. Ben Freidman had eyes and ears all over Washington, and she was certain he had a few in Langley, too.

  The previous night's sleep had been restless. Kennedy hadn't mentioned the Freidman business to anyone, not even the President. She needed to get a better handle on things before she did that. First, she would have to put her most trusted people on analyzing the damage Peter Cameron may have caused as a double agent for Israel. The group would have to ascertain if there were any others at Langley who could be linked to Cameron. After that the job would become interesting. Kennedy had already begun to form a plan that would give Ben Freidman a taste of his own medicine. The true test of spying was not to simply expose someone. There was another option, one that required real talent.

  Kennedy heard the car first and then looked to her left. The white van was rolling down the tarmac toward the Agency's hangar. She had been expecting it. As the vehicle neared she pointed inside the hangar and watched as the nondescript vehicle rolled past her. The van contained three individuals whom she knew Rapp would approve of. They were former Navy SEALs. The leader of the group was Scott Coleman, a former commander of SEAL Team 6. He'd brought with him two of his most trusted operators, Kevin Hackett and Dan Stroble. Rapp had worked with them before. If the President and the Special Forces guys got their way, Rapp would be leaving the country very quickly, and that meant somebody was going to have to baby-sit Donatella. It had to be somebody who Rapp trusted implicitly, and that meant the guys from the CIA's Office of Security were out of the question.

  Coleman approached Kennedy and extended his hand. In his late thirties he was still lean, and even a casual observer would notice that he was someone not to be messed with. The former naval officer had a very interesting past. He had killed both abroad and at home, and not all of it was sanctioned by the U. S. government. Kennedy took his hand. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

  Coleman looked at her with his blue eyes. "No offense, Irene, but you don't look so good. Have you had any sleep lately?"

  "Not enough I'm afraid, but I'll make it."

  "So what's this all about?"

  "Mitch is bringi
ng someone back from Italy."

  "Who?"

  "The woman who killed Peter Cameron."

  Coleman looked at her with genuine surprise. He'd been with Rapp when they'd discovered Cameron's body in his George Washington University office. "Woman?"

  "Yes"

  "Is she coming back of her own free will, or is he dragging her back?"

  Kennedy didn't answer immediately. At some point she had to decide how much she would reveal to Coleman. She trusted him, but the events of the last several weeks had reinforced the need to know axiom of spying. Theirs was a world where the less that was said, usually the better. In response to Coleman's question she replied, "Yes, she is. Other events that have occurred have driven her into our arms."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I don't want to get into it just yet. When they get here we'll know more."

  The plane proceeded to the Agency's hangar where the large doors were closed and the engines cut. Kennedy had directed that her own detail stay outside. She didn't want anyone getting a glimpse of Donatella She wanted no record that the woman was in the United States. Donatella was a very valuable card, and Kennedy knew she would be most effective if no one knew she had her.

  The door to the plane opened and Rapp stuck his head out. He waved to Kennedy and Coleman and then he went back in. A few moments later he appeared with a pale and weak-looking Donatella and helped her down the steps. Donatella was wearing a white sling over her bad shoulder.

  Coleman whispered to Kennedy, "It looks like she didn't come of her own free will."

  Rapp walked across the smooth cement floor. He looked all around the hangar, checking the exits and looking to see who was there. He was in operation mode. Nothing would get past his heightened senses.

  He stopped a few feet short of Kennedy and Coleman and said, "This is Donny." "How is her wound?" asked Kennedy.

  "Pretty good, so far, but we should have it checked again."

  "I'll make the arrangements," pronounced Kennedy.

  Gesturing to his boss, Rapp turned to Donatella and said, "This is Irene Kennedy."

  Without lifting her eyes Donatella said in a raspy voice, "I

  know."

  "And this is Scott."

  Donatella lifted her eyes for only a second, but said nothing.

  "It's really nice to meet you, too," replied Coleman.

  Rapp smiled. "Donny is usually a wonderful person, but the last day's been a little rough."

  "I called on Scott and the boys to protect Donatella until we figure out what to do. In the meantime you and I have some business to attend to."

  Donatella became animated and spoke to Rapp in Italian. "I am not leaving your side."

  "That's not possible." Rapp put his hand on her good shoulder and held her hand. "I've trusted Scott with my own life. He and his people are good."

  "But he has people inside the Agency." She was clearly referring to Freidman.

  "Scott and his people don't work for the Agency."

  Kennedy did not like not knowing what they were saying. "Translate, please." Rapp told her of Donatella's concerns. Kennedy almost winced when he told her that Donatella had said, he has people inside the Agency. She remained cool and said, "I assumed that he did, and that is why my own security people are outside right now. I've called on Scott because he is someone I trust, and more important, he is someone who Mitch trusts."

  Rapp could tell that Donatella was still not enthralled with the idea. "Donny, you have to trust me. In order to help you I have to do some things. I have to meet with some people and you can't be seen. We need to keep you under wraps until the time is right."

  Reluctantly she relented, and they walked over to the van. Coleman introduced Donatella to his two men who said only hello. When they had her buckled in, Rapp asked for a moment alone with her and the others walked away.

  Rapp brushed a curly black lock of hair from her face. "Donny, don't do anything stupid." She scowled at him. "I'm serious," he said. "These guys can protect you. They're good."

  Looking out the window she sized them up. "Military."

  "Yep. Retired Navy SEALs."

  She sized them up again.

  "I know what you're thinking and I want you to get it out of your head right now. They are my friends. Don't even think about running. If you kill them I will kill you." Donatella would not look him in the eye, so Rapp grabbed her chin and made her look at him. "I'm serious. I want you to give me your word that you won't kill any of them. Give me your word that you won't try to run. I can help if you trust me." Rapp looked into her tired eyes. "Do you trust me?"

  She did not answer right away, but when she did it was sincere. "Yes, I do"

  "Good. Now promise me that you won't hurt any of them."

  "I promise." Donatella was looking down.

  "Look me in the eye and mean it."

  "I promise."

  "Good." Rapp retrieved Donatella's silenced pistol from his jacket and handed it to her. "You gave me your word."

  "And I meant it." She wasn't able to pull the slide back so she asked, "Is it chambered?"

  "Of course." She looked at the weapon and said, "Thank you."

  "No problem. I know you'd do the same."

  "I would, you know," she said a little defensively.

  Rapp touched her cheek. "I know, and don't be sad, Donny. I'm going to get you your life back." Rapp kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be checking in with you later. Be nice to Scott and the boys."

  Rapp got out of the van and went over to the group. "I need to tell you guys a few things about Donny. First of all, she's armed and second of all she's really good."

  None of the former SEALs spoke, but Kennedy did. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

  "I'm sure you don't, but I do. If I were in her shoes, I'd want to be able to protect myself. And besides, if something goes down, believe me, you want a gun in her hand."

  "I don't like it," replied Kennedy firmly.

  "Well, you're going to have to live with it, because I don't think we're going to get it back from her." Rapp and Kennedy were very close. Sometimes, like this, when Rapp spoke to her like they were siblings Kennedy thought they'd gotten a little too close. She'd learned over the years to not take it personally, though. Mitch was a one-man show, and when things got tense the traits that had helped him to survive in the field for all these years came to the forefront. He showed little patience, he was controlling and any pretense of civility or respect for a superior was thrown out the window.

  Rapp shook Coleman's hand and said, "Thanks for helping out. Be really careful with her, Scott. She's frightened right now and you know what frightened animals do."

  Coleman nodded. "Do I need to worry about her taking off?"

  After thinking about it, Rapp said, "No. As long as she feels safe, she'll stay put."

  "We'll have to make sure she stays safe, then."

  "Where are you taking her?"

  " Eastern shore of the bay. Irene has all the info."

  It was just like the old SEAL to pick a spot on the Chesapeake. Rapp held up his phone. "You've got the number for this, right?"

  "Yep."

  "All right, call me if you need anything."

  "Don't worry, Mitch. I won't let anything happen to her."

  Rapp slapped Coleman on the arm and said, "I know you won't."

  He walked with Kennedy and Rapp over to the small door and punched the green button that opened the large hangar doors. He went in and got into the van and Kennedy and Rapp walked outside and got into the limousine. Alone in the backseat of the limo Rapp blurted out the question that had been eating away at him. "How is she doing?"

  "She's fine. She stayed at the Four Seasons last night." Before leaving Italy, Rapp had asked Kennedy to have someone keep an eye on Anna. "What did she do today?"

  "She left the hotel and went to the Duomo." Kennedy turned to the side so she could better observe Rapp. "My person tells me she's been very emo
tional. He's seen her crying on three separate occasions."

  Rapp dropped his head into his hands. He did not like to hear that she was in pain, but at least she still cared enough to cry.

  "Do you want to tell me about it?"

  He shook his head slowly.

  "I think you might have to."

  "Why?"

  "I need to know what she knows."

  "Irene, Anna isn't going to say anything."

  "I disagree, but my real concern is what Ben Freidman will do when he discovers his men have gone missing."

  Rapp thought of the three dead bodies in Donatella's apartment. "Did you get that taken care of?" "I've been told it's no longer a problem." Kennedy studied Rapp for a moment and said, "I'd feel better if Anna was back here in the States."

  Rapp thought he would too, but was reluctant to put any pressure on her. She had said some very hurtful things, and although they were spoken in the heat of the moment, they all had a ring of truth to them. In a solemn voice he said, "I can't ask her to come back."

  "Why?"

  "I don't want to get into it."

  "Is there anything I need to know?"

  Rapp shook his head.

  "What happened between you and Anna?"

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  Kennedy was reluctant to say what was on her mind, but felt she couldn't let it go. "What were you thinking when you decided to bring her along?"

  That I wanted to ask her to marry me. That I wanted to get out of this shitty thankless job before it sucked all normalcy from me. I was thinking all of that and much more, thought Rapp. He couldn't say it to Kennedy, though. He was too proud. It was time to be tough. Anna had let her true feelings be known. He had been a fool to think that she would marry him. Beautiful, smart Anna Rielly. There were guys all over America who would jump at the chance to marry her, guys with normal jobs, good jobs, guys that could offer stability. Guys who would be willing to move to New York when and if the time came. He'd been a fool for even dreaming of marrying her. An utter idiot for thinking that he could have what other people had. Love had clouded his otherwise good judgment, and Rapp had ignored one simple fact. He was a killer, and killers didn't marry women like Anna Rielly.