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“Well … she … just … um … she’s busy. She doesn’t have time to micromanage something that’s happening thousands of miles away.” Rapp watched nervously as his wife’s face twisted into a skeptical frown. Trying to stop her from scrutinizing his words too closely he said, “Hey, the important thing is I’m home, and I’m safe.” Smiling, he added, “I’ve got a little scrape that you won’t even notice in a week or two.”
“What are you talking about?” shouted an incredulous Anna. “You were shot in the ass!” She reached out to take a swat at his butt, but he blocked her.
“Honey, let’s calm down.”
“Don’t honey me! And don’t tell me to calm down! A couple of inches in the other direction and you could have been hit in an artery, or maybe even your dick … you stupid macho jerk.”
“But I wasn’t. I’m fine … don’t worry about it … it won’t happen again.”
“Yeah, right,” snarled Anna without an ounce of sincerity. “So tell me something, Mr. Big Shot … Mr. Tip of the Spear.” Anna used her fingers to make mocking quotation marks in reference to several articles that had been written about his role in America’s battle against terrorism. “You’re pretty high up on the totem pole. In fact the last time I checked you only take orders from two people. “The president and Irene. Isn’t that right?” Anna poked him in the chest with a finger.
Rapp chose not to answer the question.
“So if Irene didn’t order you to be involved in the rescue, then who did? I doubt it was the president.”
“Um …” Rapp hesitated, then decided to keep his mouth shut.
“You did, didn’t you?”
Slowly he began to nod and then said, “Yeah.”
“You asshole. You lied to me.”
“No, I didn’t,” Rapp said, shaking his head.
“Don’t even try it, Mitchell.” Anna shook her fist at him. “You told me you were done with this type of stuff.”
“No … I never said that.”
Anna took a deep breath trying to gain some composure, and then let out a bansheelike scream. Rapp put his hands out to grab her shoulders and try to calm her, but she retreated too quickly.
She shook her fist at him, saying, “Oh, I swear to God, I could hit you right now.” Anna’s jaw was set and her fists were clenched in rage. She needed to get away from him, to sort things out, to try to make sense of how she had been so naive. She turned and took a step toward the door.
Rapp let his hands fall and started to follow her. “Anna, don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”
The don’t worry part was what really got to her. It was only her life they were discussing. The man she loved more than anyone in the world had lied to her and then got shot and she was being told not to worry as if they’d had some slight misunderstanding. It was too much to handle. Her entire body tight with rage, she spun and delivered a clean punch to her unsuspecting husband.
Rapp would have been able to block the blow if his eyes had been open, but unfortunately, they were closed while he cursed himself out for being so monumentally stupid. The blow stopped him dead in his tracks, causing him to stumble back a step. Instinctively, his hands snapped up in defense as he prepared to grab hold of his wife’s wrists, but she was done with him. She stormed from the room with tears welling in her eyes. Rapp was left alone in the bedroom to ponder the mess he had created.
46
“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either,” said an unusually agitated Irene Kennedy into the phone that she was clutching.
Mitch Rapp stood in the doorway of his boss’s office following the conversation in complete shock and trying to make sense of what was happening. It appeared that his worst nightmare was taking place before his very eyes. Things were spiraling out of control and, for Mitch, who was very much accustomed to being in charge, it was unnerving.
Rapp’s body was stiff from sleeping on the couch, and his rear end hurt almost as badly as it had right after he’d been shot. His left eye was slightly swollen, and a headache seemed to be just over the horizon. Rapp stood on the threshold of the sun-filled office, and wondered what forces had allowed this cruel alliance to form against him. The more he listened to his boss the worse things looked for him.
“No.” Kennedy shook her head while holding the phone. “No … Oh, that’s great,” the director of the CIA said with rare sarcasm. She looked up at Rapp disapprovingly from behind her brown glasses. “No, he didn’t bother to tell me that he’d been shot in the ass.” She scowled at him, and pointed sternly at a chair in front of her desk.
In all of his years of knowing Kennedy, he had never seen her show this much emotion. Last night, with his wife, was bad enough, but Kennedy had always been someone he could depend on. This just might be intolerable. Rapp stepped into the office and closed the heavy soundproof door. The administrative assistants didn’t need to hear this. He walked slowly across the large office as his boss continued discussing his bad behavior with his wife. The whole thing was very unsettling.
“No,” Kennedy said, “you don’t need to apologize to me. I can see why you thought it was my fault.” She stopped talking and listened for a few seconds. Then in response to whatever it was that Anna had said, she replied, “Well, that is very nice of you to say. I feel the same way, and believe me you can count on me for the same thing. I think the two of us are more than up to the task.”
Rapp closed his eyes and let out a low groan. He felt like he was back in grade school, standing in the school office listening to his principal and mother conspire against him on the phone.
“Yes, I’ll be the judge of what is classified and what isn’t.” She spun her chair around, turning her back to Rapp. Then shaking her head she said, “Yes. Don’t listen to him anymore. If you have any questions pick up the phone and call me.” Again Kennedy paused to listen and then said, “Exactly! I couldn’t agree more. I might even recommend that he spend some time with one of our in-house psychiatrists.”
Rapp stared at the back of his boss’s head and said, “Over my dead body.”
