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Feigning indifference, Rapp simply nodded.
Kennedy sat and pointed at the TV. "She is our only link right now. Somebody hired Peter Cameron to make sure you didn't make it back from Germany. They wanted the CIA to be embarrassed. They wanted the Orion Team exposed, and if our thinking is right, your dead body would have been all the proof they needed. Whoever is behind this knows things they aren't supposed to."
Rapp rolled his eyes at the obvious. "And what exactly do you want me to do about it?" With a genuine smile Kennedy said, "I want you to go to Italy and ask Anna to marry you." She paused and took joy in the surprise she saw on his face. It would be nothing compared to his next reaction. "And then I want you to stop by Milan and ask your old friend Donatella who hired her to kill Peter Cameron."
The grin that had spread across Rapp's face melted away at the mention of Donatella. Rather than say anything stupid he stayed silent and let Kennedy make the next move. She got up and walked over to the safe behind her desk. Returning with a file, she dropped it on Rapp's lap.
"It's all in there. Most of it you already know. Some of it will be new to you, and some of it you might like to correct. You know her better than anyone in this building."
He looked down at Donatella's file. It was rather thick, at least two inches. He tossed it back onto the coffee table without opening it. "How did you know?"
"An educated guess, and then I had Marcus do some digging. Customs shows her arriving in New York the day before Cameron was killed." She tilted her head and asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wasn't sure," shrugged Rapp.
"It didn't have anything to do with the fact that you were involved with her?"
He thought about it for a second and said, "I'm not sure. On some level it may have but " Rapp gave up on trying to explain.
Kennedy pressed on, asking, "But what?"
Rapp respected Kennedy a lot, so he chose his words carefully. "You have enough to worry about right now. I wanted to run this down on my own and make sure, before I brought it to you."
"You didn't trust me." Kennedy stared unflinchingly at him.
He looked away and said, "I trust you."
"Then what's the problem?"
"The problem is that you have a leak." Rapp sat forward on the edge of the couch. "No one was supposed to know I was going to Germany, but someone did. I know Donatella. She'll talk to me. If it really was her who killed Cameron, I'll know. If you send someone else to pick her up, either they'll end up dead or she will, and that's the last thing we need right now."
She wasn't pleased to have to admit it, but he was right. Still, though, she didn't like being kept in the dark. "Do you want me to send along any help? Have some of our people over there keep an eye on her until you get there?"
"No. The fewer people who know about this the better."
Kennedy nodded and thought about the importance of Rapp's trip. After a moment of reflection she said, "Mitch she's our only link."
Rapp looked away from his boss and out the window. He thought of how desperately he wanted to close this chapter in his life and said quietly, "I know."
CHAPTER FIVE.
Washington, D. C. Monday evening
Approximately two miles north and a little west of the White House is one of the most formidable embassies in Washington. Located atop a hill off Connecticut Avenue, the large encampment is fitting for a nation that has felt threatened throughout its entire existence. Most native Washingtonians didn't even know that the embassy belonged to Israel. To them the series of buildings seemed to possess nothing more than an interesting architectural style and a commanding view. The more informed observer saw a fortress. The buildings were designed with small windows that were used sparingly. The architectural device was one that was used in the Middle East to combat the hot sun, but here in Washington it was employed as a security measure. The windows were all bulletproof and designed to neutralize audio listening devices. The buildings were set back a very comfortable distance from the street and a blanket of steel mesh was hidden beneath the varying facades. The perimeter fence looked normal enough, but was in fact reinforced to stop anything short of a tank.
The Israelis had ample experience with car bombs, and that experience contributed greatly to the design of the embassy compound. Humans are creatures of survival, and there is perhaps no greater modern day example of a tribe fighting for its survival than Israel. The western world is very familiar with the horrific atrocities perpetuated against the Jewish people by the Nazis in World War II. Unfortunately, in Israel 's opinion, the west considers the Holocaust a historical event: the Nazis are gone and Israel now has a country of its own. What most of the west has failed to realize is that Israel is a piece of land surrounded on three sides by Arab countries that have at one time or another over the last fifty years, attacked the tiny Jewish state and threatened to wipe it off the face of the earth. In addition to their neighbors, the Jews must also deal with a threat from within. The Palestinians, the people who occupied the ancient lands before Israel settled there after World War II, have also sworn to destroy Israel. Israel is a country, a people, a tribe that must fight every day for its very survival. When dealing with the Israelis this is something that must always be remembered.
Senator Hank Clark never lost sight of this important fact. People who had to fight for their survival tended to be quite a bit more motivated. The senator's limousine pulled up to the main gate of the Israeli embassy. As the limo's headlights bathed the sturdy gate and the security personnel who were dressed in tuxedos, he thought of how much he admired the Jews and their tenacity. After the car was thoroughly checked it was allowed to pass.
Parties at the Israeli embassy were never known to be lush affairs. Now the French, for all of their complaining and lack of devotion to their allies, were an entirely different matter. The French knew how to throw a party. The Israelis tended to be quite a bit more serious about life, and their parties had a rather austere atmosphere.
Even so, Senator Clark made it a priority to attend as many functions at the embassy as he could. Everyone simply assumed Clark was pandering to the Jewish vote in Phoenix, but that wasn't the case. Clark enjoyed immense popularity in his home state, and his getting reelected did not depend on whether or not he attended a party. But it was fine, if his staffers, his colleagues and the press thought he was currying favor with the Jews. Like most things with Clark, one had to dig a little deeper to find his real motive.
The tall senator stepped into the main foyer of the embassy by himself. He had left wife number three at home. She didn't care for the serious, cut-to-the-chase approach of the Israeli diplomats, so she had decided to sit in a warm bath and indulge herself in an aroma therapy session and an expensive bottle of wine. This suited the Senator fine. He had a lot on his mind tonight, and the last thing he needed was to baby-sit number three. In fact, Senator Clark would love nothing more than to replace number three with a number four, but he was afraid it didn't fit into his current plans. The American people would give him a pass on two divorces, but a third would really be pushing it.
Clark had barely made it through the entrance when the Israeli ambassador's underlings besieged him. Hands were firmly squeezed. Clark doled out a few back slaps and greeted everyone with his best smile. One of the more senior diplomats, who knew Clark better than the others, helped whisk him away so he could take care of the first order of business. Thirty seconds later Clark was standing in the large ballroom with a tumbler of ice-cold Scotch in his hand. A full head taller than almost everyone at the party, Clark scanned the crowd for the face he doubted he would see. The man he was to meet with tonight did not like to be seen in public.
After about an hour of schmoozing, Senator Clark was led away from the other guests by an unremarkable man in his forties. The senator had no idea who the man was and had no interest in finding out. After a brief stop at the men's room, Clark was handed off to another individual who led him past the Shin Bet security personnel and into the working part of the embassy. None of the security officers asked for identification, much less looked at him. Everything had been arranged, Clark knew, by the man he was going to meet. By the time they reached the elevator the sounds of the party were a distant roar.
