chapter 52
WASHINGTON, D.C.
RALPH Wassen sat at the bar and took a sip of his Manhattan. It was his second in a little less than an hour. At a quarter to twelve on a Tuesday evening the place had plenty of open seats. The person he was supposed to meet was late, and it didn't surprise him one bit, even though he didn't know the man. He knew enough about him, though, to understand that he would make him wait. He had no hard evidence that told him so, it was more intuition. Wassen had canceled a date for this little rendezvous, and he was hoping he wouldn't regret the decision, since his love life had all but dried up in the last year. He kept telling himself it was the demands of work, but he knew it was more than that. He was growing tired of all the jetting around to New York and Miami. Turning fifty had sobered him to the fact that there were fewer years ahead than behind.
Wassen didn't even notice that the man had arrived until the bartender came over and asked if he could get him something to drink.
The man answered in his deep, steady voice. Wassen looked up and saw the man's reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The sight of him standing behind him and the sound of his voice sent a stab of fear through Wassen's veins. Wassen swiveled his chair to the left and realized the man must have come through the back door. He was wearing a black field jacket with a mandarin collar and plenty of pockets. Wassen imagined them filled with all types of gadgets, most of them lethal.
Rapp threw a twenty down on the bar and grabbed his bottle of Summit Pale Ale. "So, Ralph," he said casually, as his eyes looked at everyone except the person he was talking to, "what's on your mind?"
"Ah..." Wassen was caught off guard. "Thank you for coming." There was no apology for being nearly forty-five minutes late. No acknowledgment, really. Just a nod.
"Should we take that booth over there?" Rapp pointed to an empty one on the far wall.
"Sure."
Rapp left the bartender a buck and picked up the rest of the bills. Both men slid into the high-backed booth, Rapp facing the front door and Wassen the back. Wassen clutched his small drink with his long fingers and thanked Rapp again for coming.
"It's not a problem," Rapp said in an easy tone. "What can I help you with?"
"You've got a big day tomorrow."
Rapp shrugged as if to say that it was bigger for some than others.
"My boss is pretty keyed up."
"I'm sure she is. A nationally televised hearing is a lot of free advertising for them."
"Yes it is, and you seem," Wassen said with a grin, "very calm for a man who is about to be grilled on national television."
Again, Rapp shrugged his shoulders. "Let's just say I've been in worse spots."
"Oh... I'm sure you have, but this is different." Wassen took a sip. "This group won't play fair. They will stack the deck in their favor."
"I'm sure they'll try."
Wassen noticed a bit of cockiness. "That doesn't worry you?"
"I can take care of myself," Rapp replied with a grin.
Wassen studied him for a moment; the alert eyes, behind the handsome rugged face. Sitting here in the bar he seemed like a decent fellow. Not the immoral animal some made him out to be. Although, it was not difficult to imagine that he was capable of extreme violence. "Why do I get the feeling that you know something that no one else does?"
Rapp grinned, a lopsided dimple appearing above the scar on his left jawline. "I know a lot of things that others don't, Ralph. That's my job."
"But you're supposed to pass all of those secrets on to the Intelligence Committee, aren't you?" Wassen asked in a sarcastic tone.
"We both know that would be a mistake."
Wassen nodded and then stared into his drink for a long moment.
Rapp watched him intently and then said, "You're going to have to put your cards on the table. You're not the one in a vulnerable position. I am."
"Do you want to bet? If Babs found out I was here, she would pluck my testicles out with her pretty little French manicured fingernails."
"That might be true," Rapp laughed, "but no one is looking to indict you."
"Fair enough." Wassen took another sip and then in a slightly embarrassed tone said, "You know not all of us think you're a monster."
"Just your boss."
"She can be passionate at times."
Rapp said nothing.
"I got a call this afternoon from a friend in New York. He asked me, 'What makes your boss think that we Americans want to extend our constitutional rights to a bunch of homophobes who recruit retarded children to be suicide bombers?'"
"Did you pass along the message?"
"No."
"You should."
"I might," Wassen said without much enthusiasm. "Maybe in the morning... which, by the way, they are talking about closing the morning session."
"I heard." The Judiciary Committee Meeting Room was secure, and it was not uncommon for them to shut the spectators and the cameras out when they didn't know what to expect.
"Why are you doing this?" Wassen blurted out.
"Doing what?"
"Testifying. Any sane man would take the Fifth and make it hard on them."
"One could argue my sanity, but I think taking the Fifth makes it easy on them. It's the game they are used to playing. Being open and forthright is something this town is not used to."
"You're right, there. That's why they're moving to close the morning session. They're nervous you might say something that will embarrass them."
Rapp took a sip of his beer and smiled.
"I think you've got something planned."
"The only thing I have planned is to go before the committee tomorrow and answer their questions."
Wassen nodded and then finally admitted, "I have tried to convince her to drop this whole matter."
"I can't see that happening."
"No." Wassen shook his head. "As much as I'd like to see her do it, I don't think she will."
"Then she and I will be locking horns in the morning."
Wassen nodded sadly and then said, "I would like to help, if there is a way. This infighting is bad for all of us."
"Agreed," Rapp said, "but we appear to be pretty far apart on some major issues."
"Which brings me to my main question - why?"
"Why what?" Rapp asked.
"Why risk your entire career on an operation like this?"
Rapp smiled. Wassen was the first person to get it. "Ralph, that's the million-dollar question."