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After collecting himself he started up the bank in a low crouch. When he reached the top he stayed in the tall grass and peered down the road in both directions. As expected it was empty. The road was called Black Point Drive, part of a seven-mile loop used by tourists and nature lovers to get a closer look at the refuge's wildlife.

He could see the glow of an approaching car but could not hear it yet. His heart quickened and his palms became moist. The car rounded the bend and headed straight for him. Al-Yamani laid flat on his stomach and kept his head down. The noise of the vehicle grew and then it came to a stop. Al-Yamani could hear the idling engine and then as per his instructions the headlights were extinguished and the car was turned off. If the car had remained running, al-Yamani would have taken it as a signal that the man thought he was being followed.

He lifted himself up just enough to get a look through the tall grass. On the opposite side of the road he saw the silver Ford Taurus he'd expected. The driver's door opened, and a man stepped out and lit a cigarette. So far so good. Al-Yamani watched him for a little while and then stood grabbing his bag.

The man did not see him at first as he stepped from the grass. Al-Yamani was half way across the road when he softly said, "Allahu Akbar."

The man spun nervously, almost dropping his cigarette. With his eyes wide he repeated the phrase in a less than steady voice.

Al-Yamani was pleased. If the young man was nervous, that meant he was taking this seriously. In Arabic he asked, "Are you sure no one has followed you?"

"Yes. I have not been to my mosque in two months, just as you ordered."

Al-Yamani nodded with satisfaction and embraced his colleague. For now he would let him live.

* * *

Fifteen

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Irene Kennedy had just spent the last two hours helping her son with his homework. It was late, she was tired, and they both needed to go to bed. Tommy was a first grader for three more days and immensely proud of the fact that he was about to move up in the pecking order of his grade school. Kennedy was just happy that he would no longer have Mrs. Johnson as a teacher. It was the last week before summer, and she was still handing out homework like it was college midterms.

Kennedy sent her son into his bathroom to brush his teeth, and then headed down the hall to draw a bath for herself. By the time she got back, he was already under the covers. He had undoubtedly cut a few corners on brushing his teeth, but Kennedy was too tired to make an issue out of it. He was a good kid who was polite and respectful, got perfect grades, and stayed out of trouble. An occasional cavity wouldn't kill him.

Begin the day on a positive note and end the day on a positive note. That was her motto, at least at home. The other stuff she couldn't control: the politicians on the Hill, the president and his advisors, the press, and even some of her own people at Langley. Kennedy listened to Tommy say his prayers and then kissed him on the forehead.

"I love you, honey."

He rolled away from her and said, "I love you too."

She was losing him. It seemed like yesterday that she used to carry him to bed, and not too long ago he would look her in the eyes and tell her he loved her. Now he was entering that goofy stage where girls, including mothers, were weird. Kennedy rubbed his back and then got up and left.

Her child taken care of, she could now turn her attention to herself. A nice long hot bath sounded like just the thing. She would lose herself in thoughts of nothing but the trivial for a good half hour. She entered her small walk-in closet and took off her clothes. She put her silk blouse in her dry cleaning bag and then made her way into the bathroom. The old-fashioned claw-foot tub was half full and steaming. Kennedy added some bath oil and then shut off the water. All she had to do was get through the next three days and they'd have a nice relaxing long weekend together. She and Tommy and her mother had plans to visit cousins at the shore. It would be a weekend of sun, surf, and fun. The perfect way to kick off the start of summer. At least she hoped it would be, even though she knew there was a good chance duty would call and her mother and Tommy would spend the weekend at the shore without her.

She was just about to ease her foot into the water when the

serenity of the moment was shattered by a distinctive ringing noise. Kennedy, a normally unflappable person, turned and glared at the white phone and its blinking red light. Her secure telephone had no voice mail. If she didn't answer it, they would simply call the agent in charge of her security detail, and he would politely come upstairs and knock on her bedroom door.

She snatched her robe from the hook on the door and walked over to her bedside table. Without her glasses she struggled to read the small display. She made out the first word and decided it was the CIA's Global Ops Center. Kennedy grabbed the handset and in a tired, but composed voice said, "DCI Kennedy."

The voice on the other end sounded somewhat scratchy and far away. "Irene, it's Mitch."

Kennedy looked at the bedside clock. It was nearing ten in the evening, which meant it was almost six in the morning where Rapp was. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah "

"Where are you?"

"We're on our way back across the border. Listen, I don't want to alarm you, but we found some serious intel in this village. I need you to get the Southwest Asia CTC people back into the office, and call the station chief in Kandahar and tell him to give me complete carte blanche on anything I ask for, especially translators."

Kennedy's brow furrowed. "Just how time sensitive is this stuff?"

"I'm not sure."

"Then what's the big rush?" Kennedy didn't like going into action without a solid reason.

"Just trust me when I tell you we have to move quickly on this stuff."

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