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"Where did you get this?"
"You don't want to know," answered Rapp in a flat tone.
Kennedy raised a questioning brow. "Is that so?"
Rapp held his ground. He knew she would press him on this point, but for her own good he had to keep her in the dark. "Irene, trust me when I tell you this you don't want to know how I got my hands on this intel."
Kennedy stared at him, trying to guess where he could have come up with such vital information. There were several possibilities, and they all pointed in a direction that was fraught with danger. She glanced down with the report and said, "You're convinced this is accurate?"
"Yes. You could say I obtained it firsthand."
She believed him, but wanted to make sure he'd thought this through all the way. "If this doesn't work, people are going to demand answers and not just the press. We're talking Congressional hearings, cameras, grandstanding politicians, careers destroyed you've seen it all before."
"Yeah, and I'm not afraid. That's why I'm not going to tell you where or how I got this information. If they ever call me up to testify, I'll fall on my sword like a good soldier."
Kennedy knew Rapp would never implicate her or the president, but she also knew he would never go quietly. He would be a formidable adversary for any congressman or senator who chose to lock horns with him. "Well your timing is interesting."
"How so?"
"There are some other things going on " She paused briefly. "Some things that have me concerned."
"Is any of it related to this?"
Kennedy shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"Well," stated a sarcastic Rapp, "we sure as hell aren't going to find out sitting here." He pointed at the file and said, "That's just a start. Give me the green light and I'll tell you within seventy-two hours exactly what they're up to."
It was a familiar refrain from the director's top counterterrorism advisor. Action! Rapp had spent twelve rough years in the field operating without official cover in some of the most inhospitable places in the Middle East and Southwest Asia. Despite his relative youth, at thirty-four he was a throwback, a believer in putting boots on the ground and taking risks. That was what her job ultimately came down to-weighing the risks versus the rewards.
"Irene," Rapp pressed, "opportunities like this don't come along very often."
"I know."
"Then let's do it," he pleaded.
"And your role in this?"
He knew where she was going, and took a half step back. "It's all right there in the report."
"I've heard that before," Kennedy said in a cynical voice.
"I'm going to be monitoring this thing from high in the sky. The Task Force boys will get to have all the fun. I'm just there to make sure no one screws up, and ask a few pointed questions when it's over."
Kennedy nodded. Many of the president's fears would be allayed by Rapp's involvement. "And your wife?"
Rapp almost told Kennedy that was none of her business, but managed to resist the impulse. "She left yesterday for her family's cabin in Wisconsin."
"I know that, and I also know about the promises you've made her as well as the ones you've given me." Kennedy locked eyes with him to make sure there would be no misunderstanding on this point. "So no more cowboy crap this time. All right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Rapp replied with a healthy bit of aggravation in his voice.
Kennedy ignored his tone and his intentional use of the wordma'am. At forty-two she was only eight years older than Rapp.
It was time to take some risks. The director of the CIA stood and grabbed the file. "You have my approval. Get moving, and please bring yourself back unscathed."
"And the president?"
"I'll take care of the president. Just make sure you get what we're after, and then get the hell out of there."
