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“No,” Stokes answered flatly.
“Irene,” Ross said, “how did the press get the idea Mitch was dead?”
Both DC morning papers ran stories that Rapp and his wife had been killed in a propane explosion at their Maryland home and all of the TV outlets were reporting the story. With no guilt whatsoever, Kennedy looked Ross in the eye and said, “I have no idea.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s at a secure location recovering.”
“Where?” Ross persisted.
“One of our safe houses in Virginia.”
“Which one?”
Kennedy tilted her head slightly. “Why are you so concerned about Mitch’s location?”
Ross glanced at the others and then said, “Mitch has a bit of a reputation as a maverick. We think it would be best if the FBI kept an eye on him until things cool down.”
“Oh…I wouldn’t worry about that,” Kennedy said in a sarcastic voice. “I’m sure if the three of you explain to Mitch that the explosion was an accident, he’ll drop the entire matter.”
It was obvious Ross did not like Kennedy’s tone. He sat up straight and asked, “Who were the two men you sent to Rapp’s house last night?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“I spoke with the Anne Arundel sheriff this morning and he told me that two men showed up last night and said that you sent them out there to poke around.” Ross folded his arms across his chest. “Apparently they caused quite a stink.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Who were they?”
“Professional assassins.”
Ross’s face flushed with anger. “I don’t think this is the time for humor.”
“No humor.” Kennedy shook her head. “They were a couple of black-bag guys who specialize in killing people and making it look like an accident.”
Ross’s nostrils were flared in anger. “What were their names?”
Kennedy shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t have the security clearance.”
“I’m your boss,” he said in a voice on the verge of outright rage.
“That does not mean you have clearance,” Kennedy insisted. The mood in the room got very tense. “Mark, I’m surprised that you seem more concerned about who they were than what they had to say.”
“Who they were is a genuine concern,” stated Attorney General Stokes. “If this was in fact a crime, my people will have to build a case, and it will not look good in court to have a couple of professional assassins poking around a fresh crime scene tampering with evidence.”
“And, Irene,” said Ross, “this so-called evidence they found is incredibly thin. A few trampled blades of grass and a tire track.” Ross shook his head and frowned. “Balance that against the fire chief’s report that it was an accident, and this thing will never get off the ground.”
“So what would you propose we do? Ignore the warning we received from the Jordanians last week that a bounty had been placed on Rapp’s head? Ignore the findings of two highly trained, and highly decorated, Special Forces veterans who know more about this kind of thing than all of us combined?”
“We’re not saying that at all,” answered Ross.
“Then why are you so hell bent on trying to write this thing off as an accident?”
