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Kennedy spun her leather chair back around and shot him a glare. “All right, Anna. I’ll see you in a couple hours, and I’ve got you down for drinks on Thursday at six. Thank you … . Okay. Oh, and I wouldn’
t worry about that other thing. He’s tough, and as I already said, he more than had it coming.” She nodded several times, and then said, “All right … bye-bye.”
Kennedy slowly replaced the handset, keeping her inquisitive eyes locked on Rapp. “Well, that was an interesting conversation.”
“I bet,” replied Rapp with no effort to conceal his displeasure.
Kennedy looked at his face. “Nice shiner. Where’d you get it?”
Doubting her sincerity he said, “I slipped in the shower.”
“Really. At least you didn’t fall on your behind.” Kennedy pointed to one of the chairs in front of her desk and said, “Sit.”
Rapp shook his head. “No thanks … I think I’ll stand.”
“Sit,” replied his boss in a voice more stern than anything he’d ever heard from her.
Rapp carefully lowered himself into one of the chairs and with a fake smile said, “There. Are you happy?”
“Hardly.” Kennedy snatched her glasses from her face and placed both elbows on her desk. “You have got some major explaining to do.” The reserved, analytical Kennedy was amazed at how good it felt to let her pent-up anger out.
Rapp, put in the unusual position of having to remain the calm one, said, “I think everyone needs to relax a bit.”
“Nice try, but you were way out of bounds on this one. When in the hell were you planning on telling me that you were shot?”
“Oh, come on, Irene, you’ve got enough stuff to worry about with running this place.” Rapp dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand as if one of her top advisors and best operatives getting shot was utterly trivial. “You don’t need to worry about every little injury to one of your people in the field.”
An offended, angry expression fell across her face. Her brown eyes focused intently on him and she said, “That hurt.”
Rapp was completely mystified. His head hurt, his eye hurt and his ass was absolutely killing him. How could a few words “hurt”? “What are you talking about?”
“You,” she started in an angry tone, “are not just simply one of my many employees. Next to my son and my mother you are probably the dearest friend to me in the entire world, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult my feelings by portraying me as some detached boss who has no concern for her employees.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Rapp as he shook his head.
“That is what you said, and what you meant, and don’t insult me further by trying to re-tailor your words.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Rapp started to stand. “I can’t take all of this estrogen.”
Kennedy stood abruptly and yelled, “Then take a little testosterone! Sit your ass back down, Mister!”
“My ass hurts too much to sit, thank you very much!”
“Don’t try to turn this around on me, Mitchell. This is not my fault. When you called me requesting that I get full authority for you to plan the hostage rescue you knew exactly what you were doing. You waited until the real chain of command was asleep, and then you went in and launched the rescue, without our final approval.” She angrily pointed a finger at him and said, “And you put yourself right in the thick of it.”
Looking down at her desk, she picked up a file. “This is the after action report filed by Lieutenant Jackson. Did you think I wasn’t going to find out?” She threw the file down onto her desk. “You crawled into that damn camp by yourself and almost got killed.”
“Almost got killed,” Rapp mocked her. “Where the hell have you been for the last fifteen years? Every time I walk out the door I almost get killed. That’s part of my job.”
“Not any longer. You’re not twenty-five anymore. We have other people who can lead the charge. You’re not some buck private storming the beaches. You have one of the best counterterrorism minds in this entire town, and we can’t afford to lose you over some macho need to be right in the thick of it.”
“Are you done?” Rapp looked at her defiantly. He knew there was some truth to her words, but he was sick of being on the receiving end of another tongue-lashing. “Could you try to see past your bruised ego at being left out of the loop for a few hours and thank me for a job well done? General Moro is dead, an entire sixty-plus-man force of Abu Sayyaf guerrillas has been silently exterminated, we have a new commander of the Filipino Special Forces who will vigorously take the war to the Muslim terrorists, the Anderson family has been rescued, and not a single asset was lost in the process.” Rapp held up his hand. “The only problem was that yours truly got shot.”
Kennedy decided to remove some of the emotion from the discussion. As good as it felt at first, she knew it was counterproductive. Especially when dealing with a bull like Mitch. He needed to be finessed, not pounded on. Thoughtfully, she nodded and said, “Thank you for a job well done.”
Rapp immediately relaxed. He did not enjoy fighting with Kennedy, especially on the heels of what had happened last night. She had always understood him—probably even better than he understood himself. “And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. You know I think of you and Tommy as family…. It’s just that …” He shook his head in confusion. “I’ve always been on the front line. You know that. I’ve always been left alone to make decisions as I see fit in the field. We handled the General Moro thing without consulting you, and I saw no reason why I needed to call Washington and ask for the green light on the hostage rescue.”
“You didn’t want to consult with us,” answered Kennedy, “because you didn’t want to hear us tell you that you couldn’t go on the mission.”
