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Dottie got up from behind her desk and poured Rapp a mug of coffee in a blue Central Intelligence Agency mug. After handing the mug over to Rapp she showed him into Dr. Kennedy's office and closed the door.
Kennedy was at the far end of the long office amid a bevy of file boxes that were stacked on the conference table. Rapp had been in the office on only two previous occasions and glanced around to see what had changed since Stansfields death. It appeared not much. The old spook's photos and awards were still hanging on the walls. He wondered if this was an oversight, or a sign that Kennedy was having trouble letting go of her old boss and mentor.
Kennedy grabbed her jacket from the back of one of the conference table chairs and put it on. She was wearing a stylish gray European suit with flared notched lapels. The color was very similar to Rapp's suit. The uniform color scheme would have made a student of George Orwell smile knowingly.
"Sorry about the mess. They moved everything from my old office while I was at the funeral." Kennedy smiled sadly. "Orders from Thomas. Even from the grave he's still running the show." Kennedy held her arms out and offered her cheek to Rapp.
He held the coffee mug clear and wrapped his free hand around her waist. After kissing her cheek he said, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral, but things are a little-"
"No need to explain." Kennedy squeezed him tightly. "You're still not used to showing your face in public. Thomas more than anyone would have understood."
"Well, you know I always had a lot of respect for the old codger."
Kennedy released him, stepping back and motioning for Rapp to take a seat on the couch. "He had an immense amount of respect for you, Mitch." She sat in an overstuffed leather chair. "You know that, don't you?"
Rapp shrugged off the words, uncomfortable, as always, with praise.
"Well, he did. He told me once that in all the years he had been in this business he thought you might be the best." Kennedy sat back in the chair and watched Rapp struggle with the compliment for a moment. She desperately wanted him to come inside and work in the Counterterrorism Center. Rapp's understanding of the Middle East, its different terrorist cells and how they operated would be invaluable to the Center. She could not begrudge him his wish to cease field operations. No one stayed in his line of work forever. It was just too taxing, both physically and mentally. In fact, she had actually begun training Rapp's replacement four years earlier and the young man was coming along just fine. Now, however, with her new duties as director there was no way she could continue to run the Orion Team. She wasn't sure she could trust the team's delicate missions with anyone other than Rapp.
Beyond all of that, she needed someone inside the Agency to watch her back. The blown operation in Germany still loomed large. Someone out there knew things they were not supposed to. They either worked at the Agency or they had someone who did. Kennedy thought it was the latter, and so did Stansfield. Before his death, he had warned that Rapp was not the ultimate target in Germany. Yes someone wanted him dead, but not for the common motive of revenge. Rapp
was meant to be found dead next to Count Heinrich Hagenmiller. The scandal was meant to embarrass the Agency, and in Stansfield's keen analysis, ultimately finish Irene Kennedy's career and maybe the President's. The prize, as Stansfield had put it, was the directorship of the CIA. Someone, for reasons unknown, didn't want Kennedy to take over as the head of the world's premier intelligence agency.
"How's Tommy?" asked Rapp of Kennedy's six-year-old son.
"He's fine. Still growing like a weed. He asked about you the other day. You should come by and see him."
"I know." Rapp grimaced. "Things have just been a little difficult lately. The last thing I'd want would be for some of my problems to become his."
Kennedy appreciated his thoughtfulness and told him so. They would get around to discussing their mutual problem later. "How is Anna?"
"She's great."
"Have you talked to her about the job offer?"
"Yes."
"And what does she think?"
"Well, anything is better than what I'm doing right now, but I'm not so sure she thinks it's such a good idea for the long run."
"Working for the CIA?" Kennedy asked.
"Yeah, I suppose. You know she's a reporter. She'd never admit it to me, but they think we're a bunch of fascists."
Kennedy nodded knowingly, tucked a stray lock of her shoulder length brown hair behind her ear and with a smile said, "And they're all a bunch of communists."
"Pretty much, except now they prefer to think of themselves as socialists since the whole communism thing didn't turn out too well." Rapp laughed at his little cheap shot and Kennedy joined in.
Privately, Kennedy wondered how Mitch and Anna would deal with the difficulties of two careers that were so diametrically opposed. Kennedy could see Anna's friends poking fun at her boyfriend who worked for the CIA. She had repeatedly envisioned a horrible scene where some smart-ass reporter, who'd had one too many glasses of Chardonnay, decided to prove his intellectual superiority by making light of Mitch's career. The dream always turned out the same way. The smarmy man ended up on the floor in a pool of blood with his nose no longer in the center of his face.
Kennedy pushed the picture from her mind and got back to the subject at hand. "Look, I'm not going to hold you to what you told Thomas before he passed away. I don't think it was fair of him to pressure you at that time. I know you have some reservations about coming to work here at Langley, but I want you to know that you would be invaluable to the Counterterrorism Center." Looking down for a second she added, "And, Mitch, I could really use your help."
It was the last part that got to him. Rapp had an overwhelming sense of loyalty when it came to Kennedy. He knew he couldn't say no to her when she made it personal, but he had to at least try. "I've been doing some thinking. Hear me out for a second." He shifted and crossed his legs. "I've worked outside the Agency for years and have been very effective. I'm not so sure it wouldn't be better for me to remain out of sight and continue to help in a more subtle way."
Kennedy had thought of this and so had Stansfield. Neither of them liked the idea because of the logistical issues it created. Kennedy and Rapp needed an official cover so they could converse in the privacy of her office on a moment's notice. "We haven't filled you in on all of your new job requirements. You'd be far more than just an analyst in the CTC." Kennedy paused. "I want you to run the Orion Team for me."
Rapp looked surprised. "Really." What he hadn't come out and said, what he was slightly embarrassed to admit, was that his reluctance to come in from the cold was grounded in a fear of being trapped in an office environment five days a week. He'd never done it before and he wasn't so sure he wanted to start now. Rapp knew himself better than anyone with the exception of maybe Kennedy. He was a lone wolf, used to operating with minimal interference from the outside. He was not a team player, but the chance to run the Orion Team was extremely appealing.
