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"Brazilian jujitsu?" Lewis asked.
"Yeah ... how'd you know?"
"I saw him take Victor down today. The style is hard to miss."
"So he comes in here and almost bests me and then he snaps Victor's elbow ... I'm telling you, the kid isn't who he says he is."
Stansfield's patience was wearing thin. "Be more specific."
"I'm not sure, but it doesn't feel right."
"What ... you think he's a plant ... a spy?" Kennedy asked in a mocking tone.
"I'm not sure. I'm just telling you he doesn't pass the smell test. You can't get that good that quick."
Kennedy looked at Stansfield. "Let's cut to the chase. He doesn't like him because he's my recruit." She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "He's a misogynist."
"I don't like him because I don't know who the hell he is. We need to know everything there is to know about these guys before we bring them in. That's why military experience is a must. That way we know exactly what they've been doing for a minimum of four years."
"And how is that working out for us, Stan?" Kennedy shot back. "We don't have a single operative in the pipeline, and we've been at this for almost two years."
"I am well aware that I have failed to produce. Painfully fucking aware, but that doesn't mean I'm going to rush things and have something this important blow up in our faces."
Lewis, in a neutral tone, asked, "Stan, what is your problem with Rapp?"
He took a while to answer and finally said, "I can't put my finger on it. It's more of a feeling. A bad feeling."
"Do you know what I think it is?" Kennedy asked. "Two things. First ... I think you have major control issues. You can't stand the fact that you weren't involved in recruiting him. And second ... you feel threatened."
"What?" Hurley's face was twisted into a mask of confusion.
"He's you. He's the man you were forty years ago, and it scares the crap out of you."
Hurley shook his head dismissively. "That's bullshit."
"Really ... well I can say the same thing about your gut feeling. It's bullshit. What, do you think the PLO planted him in a D.C. suburb twenty-three years ago, raised him Catholic and sent him off to Syracuse to play lacrosse? Or do you think it was the KGB before the Soviet Union collapsed and now he's a rogue deep cover operative? Ridiculous." Kennedy dismissed the ludicrous idea with a flip of her right hand. "You're clutching at straws."
No one moved or spoke for five seconds, while Kennedy's stinging remarks set in. Lewis finally said, "She has a point." He pushed back his chair and stood. "I'd like to show you something. I sat down and talked with him before all of you arrived. I think you will find this very interesting." Lewis approached the surveillance control board and pressed a few buttons. A black-and-white image of Rapp appeared on the screen. He was sitting in the office on the first floor. Lewis's voice came over the speakers. He was offscreen to the right.
"That was unfortunate, what happened this afternoon."
Rapp sat still for a few seconds and then nodded.
"Do you feel bad at all about what you did to Victor?"
It took him a long time to answer, and then he said, "We're all big boys here."
"So you feel no remorse?"
"I wish it hadn't happened, but Victor isn't exactly the nicest guy."
"I see. Is it possible that you intentionally broke his arm?"
"Intentionally is a strong word. We were sparring and one thing led to another."
"The thing that led to the other was you snapping his arm before he could tap out."
"I'm not sure he would have tapped out."
