"Mr. Rapp, I would like to warn you... if I get the slightest sense that you are lying to me or any other member of this committee, I will..."

"I hit the prisoner," Rapp said clearly into the microphone. He knew he needed to give them something; show them that he had not made an empty promise. He also had no desire to sit there and listen to another round of threats form Lonsdale.

"So you are admitting to striking a bound prisoner?"

"He was not bound at the time, but I did strike him."

"I'm not sure that makes any difference. He was in our custody."

"Yes, he was."

Lonsdale felt suddenly vindicated, but she wanted to make sure her opponents on the committee were clear on this point. "So you admit to striking him?"

"Yes."

Lonsdale glanced at her notes. "And choking him?"

"Yes."

"Was he restrained while you were choking him?"

"Yes," Rapp said.

Lonsdale paused for a second to let the gravity of the admission sink in. "I see in one of the reports here that there was an electronic stun gun found in the interrogation room. Did you use that stun gun on the prisoner?"

"Yes," Rapp answered without hesitation.

Senators began mumbling to themselves.

"Madam Chairman," said Bob Safford, the chairman of the Intelligence Committee, "I would like to remind the witness that at any point he may still invoke his Fifth Amendment right."

Lonsdale shot Safford a look that said, Shut the hell up Shut the hell up, and said, "Maybe the senator didn't hear, but the witness has already said he does not wish to invoke his Fifth Amendment right."

"Senator Lonsdale is right. I have no intention of invoking the Fifth."

Lonsdale turned back to the witness table and was surprised to find Rapp walking in front of it.

"Have any of you," Rapp said, "bothered to ask yourself why I would risk running an operation like this?" Not a single one of the nineteen answered, so Rapp continued. "Several weeks ago I was contacted by a source who works for a foreign intelligence agency. He informed me that two terrorist cells had been intercepted en route to the United States. One was headed to Los Angeles and the other to New York City."

"Why are we only hearing about this now?" asked Senator Safford, the chairman of the Intelligence Committee.

"That's a complicated answer, but the short version is that this ally no longer trusts us on this particular issue."

"What particular issue would that be?" Lonsdale asked.

"Enhanced interrogation methods."

"You mean torture," Lonsdale said.

"Call it whatever you'd like, ma'am, but please do not delude yourself into thinking it doesn't work."

"Mr. Rapp, I..."

"Please let me finish, ma'am. This is very important. This intelligence asset has reason to believe that a third cell may exist and might already be in the United States." Rapp slowly looked from one end of the long bench to the other. Not a single senator made an effort to speak.

Lonsdale exhaled a heavy sigh and said, "I find the timing of this phantom intelligence to be entirely self-serving."

"I thought you would say that, Senator, so I am prepared to make a deal. I would like to repeat what I just said in an open session. Hopefully, this afternoon. If you want to investigate and prosecute me for striking Abu Haggani, a man who is responsible for murdering over one hundred U.S. service personnel... a man who specializes in attacking grade schools filled with children... a man whose contribution to terrorism is that he was the first to recruit mentally retarded people to become suicide bombers... If that is the case you would like to put before the American people, then I welcome it. I am more than willing to publicly stand behind my position."

"And what exactly would that position be, Mr. Rapp?" Lonsdale said with derision. "That you think it should be the official policy of the United States of America to torture prisoners of war?"

The conversation had been brought to the crossroads that Rapp had been hoping for. Rapp watched as a good third of the panel snickered at their chairman's quick retort. He took the hatred he felt for them and doused it with pity just as Kennedy had told him to do. "My position, Madam Chairman, and members of the committee, is that it should be the unofficial unofficial policy of this government to reserve the right to use extreme measures in instances where we are threatened from terrorist attacks." policy of this government to reserve the right to use extreme measures in instances where we are threatened from terrorist attacks."

"Extreme measures," Lonsdale said with a disappointed look. "No doubt a euphemism for torture."

"Ma'am, about ten years ago I spent a week in the custody of the Syrian Intelligence Service." Rapp spoke without malice or dramatic effect. "I can tell you from firsthand experience that there's a big difference between torture and extreme measures." Rapp looked to the most liberal members of the committee as Kennedy had advised and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I respect your position on this issue. No one who I work with likes torture. None of us enjoy inflicting pain on a prisoner, and it is not something that we do because we are bored and have decided to satisfy our sadomasochistic streaks. We do it in the rarest of instances, and we do it to save American lives."

"Mr. Rapp, what if this person is innocent?" asked the chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee.

"I only know of one instance where that has happened, and I was not involved in it. The person was never tortured in the sense that most people would define torture; however, I will freely admit that this person was subjected to environmental stress that is designed to get people to break. It is not something that is remotely pleasant, but this person was released without any physical harm."

"What about mental harm?" Lonsdale asked.

Rapp nodded. "That is a very good point. I have no doubt that the person suffered mental trauma. We have done our best to try and compensate this person and offer him medical assistance. Again, I am not proud of it, I was not involved in it, but I admit to you that a mistake was made. One mistake among hundreds of interrogations."

"I don't find your words reassuring, Mr. Rapp."

He turned to face the senior senator from Vermont. "This is an ugly business, Madam Senator. These religious fanatics want to do us great harm, and it is my job to try and stop them. That is why I launched this risky operation. We have two men in our possession, both senior Taliban members with heavy ties to al-Qaeda. Men who have the blood of thousands of innocent people on their hands, and I am not allowed to talk to them. One of those men, Mohammad al-Haq, acknowledged the existence of the third cell without us even laying a hand on him."

"That," said Lonsdale, "was because you were threatening to hand him over to the butcher of Mazar-i-Sharif... General whatever his name is."

"That's right," Rapp said without shame. "That's how you get these guys to talk. Mohammad al-Haq is not an American citizen. He is a terrorist."

Lonsdale said, in a surprisingly even tone, "Mr. Rapp, you would be well advised to remember that this committee, as well as several federal judges, have already weighed in on this issue. This country is bound by the Geneva Conventions. We must afford all prisoners of war the protection mandated by law."

"And the terrorists who intentionally target civilians?" Rapp asked. "Who holds their feet to the fire and makes sure they follow the Geneva Conventions?" Rapp looked at the right side of the bench and added, "We all know the answer to that. They did not sign the Geneva Conventions and never will. They in fact go out of their way to break almost every rule the Geneva Conventions set forth, yet in our infinite wisdom we have decided to afford them the protections of a document that they spit on."

"Mr. Rapp," Lonsdale said, in an almost tired voice, "we are a nation of laws."

"Yes, we are," Rapp said respectfully. "An open democracy. A government of the people, by the people." He took a step closer to the bench and lowered his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, I don't want to do this," he said in almost pleading tone, "but you are leaving me with no other choice. I've been doing this for close to twenty years, and tension between the CIA and Capitol Hill has never been this bad. We have forgotten who our true enemy is. It is not us." Rapp pointed back and forth among the various members. "Secretary of State England said it earlier. We are on the same team. I remember after nine-eleven, when the pain of that day was still fresh, many of you came to me and asked if we were doing enough to make these terrorists talk after they were captured. You didn't think we were being aggressive enough, and then Abu Ghraib hit and we went right back to fighting each other."

Rapp paused for a brief moment and then directed his words directly at Lonsdale. "Madam Chairman, it is my sincere belief that we are going to be attacked in the near future. I know for a fact that at least one of the two men I tried to question last week has information that could help us to stop this attack." He looked from one end of the table to the other and said, "I am begging each and every one of you, think of the ramifications. Think of how the American people will react when they find out that this committee and its members were more concerned with protecting the debatable rights of a couple of bigoted, sadistic terrorists than they were in protecting their own citizens, who each and every one of you has sworn to protect and defend."

"If this country is attacked," said Lonsdale, "then you and the CIA will be to blame. Not this committee."

Rapp's anger was barely in check. He'd set aside all of his disdain for these men and women, and their ever-shifting set of principles, in hopes that they could find a middle road. He was giving them an opportunity to save themselves, and Lonsdale could not see fit to get off her pedestal and take the necessary course, the course that would protect the country. His every fiber wanted to let loose on the self-serving chairman, but Kennedy's voice kept him in check. Her words admonishing him that they would need these people, especially after the bombs went off. The president had assured them that the CIA would not be blamed should an attack take place. He had guaranteed them that he would place the blame firmly at the feet of a group of elitist senators and rabid congressmen who had for years harassed and hamstrung the CIA.

Knowing that the president would be there as a backstop, Rapp allowed the slightest hint of a grin to form on his lips, and then he said, "If you really believe that, Madam Chairman, I propose we convene for lunch, and when we come back for the afternoon session, we open it to the public. Let's get the press in here." Rapp turned around and motioned toward the gallery. "Fill the place up. I'll admit everything in front of the cameras. You can tear me apart," Rapp said triumphantly. "Your constituents will love it. I'll state my case for the use of extreme measures, you can all call me a barbarian if you'd like, and if this terrorist cell that you believe doesn't exist never materializes, you will be able to make great political hay out of the entire matter. If you push hard enough, you will surely get me removed from service and probably prosecuted."

Rapp paused and let a moment pass before he put forth the uncomfortable alternative. "But, if I'm right and this cell does manage to reach D.C... . and the bombs start going off... every last one of you is going to have to face the wrath of your constituents." Rapp looked up and down the long bench. Most of the senators were as solemn as they'd been all morning. Rapp was reminded again of Kennedy's words. How she had cautioned him to resist his instinct to tell them off. This was supposed to be about bringing them into the fold. Not deepening the divide. In a slightly conspiratorial tone he said, "There is another route we can take, however."

No one spoke at first and then Senator Valdez asked, "What would that be?"

"You can quietly refer this entire matter back to the Intelligence Committee, where things can be handled in a more discreet manner." Rapp gave them a moment to weigh their options and then said, "So, what is it going to be? An open session this afternoon, or back to the Intelligence Committee?"

Lonsdale looked as if she might take her gavel and throw it at Rapp's head. She started moving her perfectly lined lips toward the microphone and was just about to let loose when both the vice chair and Kent Lamb, the esteemed chairman of the Appropriations Committee, reached out and grabbed her. After a tense fifteen-second conference, Lonsdale made it to her microphone and said, "Mr. Rapp, you are excused. The committee will now meet in private to discuss the issues before us and then break for lunch. We will reconvene at two this afternoon."

"I will stay in the building, and make myself available should any of you want to discuss this matter in private." Rapp gave a grimacing Lonsdale a nod and then left.

CHAPTER 60

NASH waited as long as he could for Rapp to emerge from the committee room, but he'd run out of time. His administrative assistant had come through as she almost always did and informed him that his wife was scheduled to meet with the dean at 11:45. Nash left word with Kennedy to have Rapp call him as soon as he got out and then he left to race across town. Sidwell was only five miles from Capitol Hill, but Nash knew it would take at least fifteen minutes to get there, and that was if he hit all the lights and traffic wasn't too bad. As he pulled out of the Dirksen parking lot, he was relieved to find the street empty. Nash's hopes that he would make it to the meeting on time were dashed a few blocks later as he reached a jam-packed Columbus Circle. With his options extremely limited, he nosed his way onto Massachusetts Avenue and headed northwest.

A cab cut him off a block later and he laid on his horn with everything he had. The cabby flipped him off. Nash looked through his windshield and for a split second imagined how satisfying it would be to run the guy off the road and whip him with his own antenna. He quickly banished the idea and turned his mind to his son. He could spend the next fifteen minutes getting angry about it and carefully plotting out the confrontation, but in the end this was about Rory. He and his wife would have to sort their problems out later.

The traffic was a mess at Thomas Circle, and for a minute Nash was tempted to take to the side streets, but he'd made this trip enough to know that could be a risky move. As he was nearing Dupont Circle his phone rang. The readout told him it was a private call.

"Hello."

"Irene said you wanted to talk to me." It was Rapp.

"Yeah," Nash said, "How'd the rest of the hearing go?"

"Well enough. I'll fill you in later. What's up?"

"I've got a bit of a problem." He paused and carefully chose his words, keenly aware that the call could be recorded. "That dinner we were planning... the one we canceled. I talked to everybody and they were fine with shutting it down, except Chris."

"What was his problem?"

"He said he'd put too much effort into it to just call it off, and he felt like he was nearing a breakthrough."

"So he's still on the job?" Rapp said casually.

"Yeah, except there's a slight problem. We had coffee yesterday, and he said he would check in with me last night and this morning."

"And?"

"Nothing so far."

"That's not good. What are you doing about it?"

"I called Scott. He's trying to track him down."

Rapp didn't answer right away and then said, "Irene said you had a family thing to attend to."

"Yep."

"When will you be done?"

"If all goes well, I'll be back up there by one."

"All right. If you hear anything, call me."

"Will do."

"And when you get back here, we might have to make a trip over there."

"Over there?" Nash asked a bit anxiously. He wondered if Rapp meant the mosque.

"Yeah, I don't like this. Chris is no flake. If he hasn't called you back, we've got a problem."

"I agree, but who in the hell are we going to bring it to?"

"We're not. That's why you and I are going over there. Get back here as soon as you can."

"Will do." Nash hit the end button and set the phone down.

Traffic eased up as soon as he crossed Rock Creek. A few minutes later he was turning on to Wisconsin Avenue and passing the National Cathedral. He checked the clock on the dashboard and swore. It was 11:51. Sidwell was the type of place where things ran on time, so there was no telling what kind of damage his wife had already done. Nash parked the van in the small lot in front of the school and raced in. He knew where the administration office was located, but not the dean's office. A student pointed him in the right direction and a moment later Nash found himself standing in front of the dean's door. He could hear people talking on the other side, but they weren't clear enough for him to know what they were saying.

Nash tapped on the door lightly and then opened the door. He stepped into the room and said, "Sorry I'm late." Nash gave his wife a fake smile and then approached the neat, organized desk of the dean. Sticking his hand across the desk he said, "I'm Mike Nash, Rory's father."

A serious woman with short salt-and-pepper hair offered Nash her hand and said, "I'm Peggy Barnum Smith, dean of students here at Sidwell. Please have a seat."

Nash noted that there was no warmth in the woman's voice. He grabbed a chair that was sitting near a bookcase and set it down next to his wife, who made no attempt to look at him. He glanced over at Todd and Kristy De Graff, whom he barely knew, and noted the tissue in Mrs. De Graff's hand, as well as her red eyes and nose. "What have I missed?"

Dean Barnum Smith leaned forward and folded her hands, placing them atop her leather desk blotter. She tilted her head toward Nash and in a solemn voice said, "Kristy had just finished explaining to us the extent of Derek's injuries. Your wife," the dean said while gesturing to Maggie, "is hoping that we can find a middle ground short of expulsion. She has offered to pull your son off the lacrosse team and thinks that one hundred hours of community service, either here at Sidwell, or an organization of the De Graffs' choosing would be fair."

Nash took the anger that he felt toward his wife at that moment and set it aside. He looked back at the dean and said, "That's not going to happen."

"You would prefer he be expelled?" The dean asked sincerely.

"No."

"I'll be honest," Barnum Smith said, "my hands are tied. We have a zero tolerance policy against fighting."

"What is your policy for foul-mouthed kids?"

"Pardon me?" Barnum Smith said, looking very caught off guard.

"Have any of you bothered to ask themselves why a kid like Rory, who has never been in trouble before, would suddenly decide to beat up a classmate?"