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The fifty-two-year-old Italian American from Philadelphia laughed loudly. “Now that’s not true, Mitch.” He stepped closer to Rapp, and after looking over both shoulders said, “You should have seen me last night. There’s this new gal I met at the club. I was like a rock star. I’m amazed I can walk this morning, because I’ll tell you right now she’s in traction.” He looked once again toward Kennedy’s office door and stepped even closer to Rapp. “Listen to this.”
Rapp’s arm shot out like a traffic cop. “Stop.” He closed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to erase the picture big hairy Vince Delgado was attempting to scar him with.
Rapp walked toward Kennedy’s door and then knocked on it.
“Hey, are we still shooting this afternoon?” Delgado was a former Recon Marine and phenomenal shot, which was in part how he and Rapp had got to know each other so well.
“Yep,” answered Rapp. “I’ll see you there at two.”
Rapp entered Kennedy’s office and found her sitting at her desk focusing intently on an opened red file. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” Kennedy answered without taking her eyes off the top secret document.
“How’s Tommy?” Rapp was referring to Kennedy’s eight-year-old son.
“He’s busy, but he misses you, of course. He just asked about you last night.”
“Does he have a game Saturday?” Tommy was playing his first year of tackle.
“Yes. Eleven a.m.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Kennedy took off her reading glasses. “Make sure you bring Anna with. He likes to show her off.”
“Oh…he’s getting to that age now.” Rapp raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think he’s been the same since he saw her in a swimsuit last summer.”
“I don’t think I’ve been the same either.”
Kennedy slid her chair away from her desk. “He’s definitely changing. Very brand-conscious all of a sudden. He has to have his hair a certain way…this shirt is cool, this one is lame and on top of all that…he’s gotten quite mouthy.”
With a straight face he asked, “Did you ever think maybe it’s your management style?”
“You’re a very funny man.”
Rapp shrugged. “All kids go through phases.”
“Apparently. What’s your excuse?” Kennedy looked at Rapp and thought, not for the first time, how nice it would be to have a man at home to help. Not Rapp of course. They were more like brother and sister. But it was impossible to miss the way Tommy was drawn to him, or the tone Mitch would use when Tommy was out of line and the way her young son would instantly react. Her prospects, however, were not good. Working sixty plus hours a week did not leave much time to date, and the fact that she was the director of the CIA tended to intimidate men a bit.
“Now you’re the comedian,” Rapp said.
Kennedy nodded. She was wearing a stylish yet conservative brown jacket with matching pants. She crossed her left leg over her right and asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Rapp plopped down in one of the side chairs. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”
“Oh no…what now?”
“Ross.”
Kennedy closed the file on her desk. Conflict was a part of her job, especially post 9/11. A power grab was afoot, and she needed to be very careful. She had high hopes for a smooth relationship with the new director of National Intelligence. She respected Rapp, but his insolent attitude, and bull-in-a-china-shop demeanor, could easily put her and Ross at odds. “I would think he hasn’t been at the job long enough to cross you.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“What did he do?”
“For starters he had one of his people call over to the Pentagon and request Scott Coleman’s personnel file.”
