The Third Option

chapter 13
Anna Rielly sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around her legs, pulling them tight against her chest. Her best friend had been attempting to console her for the better part of an hour, while Michael O'Rourke alternated between sitting and pacing back and forth in front of the couch. The rain falling outside only added to the dreary mood inside the O'Rourkes' Georgetown home.

After getting over the initial shock of finding her best friend's husband on the front porch of her boyfriend's house holding a gun in his hand, Rielly had listened long enough to understand that Michael O'Rourke didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him while they were still at Rapp's house. He had handed Anna the mobile phone, and Liz had quickly explained to her that she should listen to Michael and follow him back to Georgetown immediately.

Anna had known instantly that it had something to do with Mitch. She had tried to ask, but again Michael made it clear that they shouldn't talk about it until they got back to the city. This tactic did not work. Anna became understand- ably upset, and he was forced to tell her that Mitch was all right. This calmed her down just enough to get her into the car and under way, but that was about it. By the time they got back to the O'Rourkes' house, she was a mess.

It took a good thirty minutes for Liz to calm her down, and as far as Michael was concerned, very little useful information came out during this time. Anna would not answer Liz's questions, and the few times that Michael had tried to steer the conversation, his wife had given him a look that told him to butt out. Anna repeatedly stated that she couldn't talk about what Mitch might be involved in. The only point she conceded was that Rapp's computer consulting business was, in fact, legitimate.

O'Rourke grew increasingly frustrated with the way things were going. He wanted answers, and felt he deserved them. This was, after all, something that he did not bring on himself, much as the events involving Scott Coleman and his grandfather had been something he did not bring on himself. O'Rourke paused and thought about that one for a moment. He knew he wasn't being entirely honest. If he had kept his mouth shut and not informed Scott Coleman about a certain senator's complicity in getting a dozen Navy SEALs killed, that whole problem never would have developed. He had learned a hard lesson from that one. Keep your mouth shut. Secrets are better left in the dark. In a way, this was the only thing that was keeping him from taking off the kid gloves. Maybe it was better if he didn't know what Mitch Rapp was really up to?

This line of reasoning only took the congressman so far, and then it ran into a dead end. The reality was that he was already involved, and it was not by his or his wife's choice. It was Mitch Rapp who had sent the e-mail and asked for help. They deserved a few answers. O'Rourke needed to know what he was now involved in, and if Anna wasn't willing to give the answers, he would go elsewhere.

O'Rourke stood and walked toward the foyer. The rain was coming down in sheets. Looking back at his wife and Rielly, he said, "Anna, I need you to answer some questions." Choosing his next words carefully, he added, "And I need you to answer them truthfully."

Liz O'Rourke looked up at her husband with a scowl on her face. "Michael, I think your questions can wait."

They were going to have it out, and at this point Michael didn't care. It would be his Irish temper against her Italian temper. It had happened before, and it would happen again. They never got physical, and they always made up. Until today, the last five months had been a constant stream of "yes, dears." This, Michael knew, was because of his wife's anointed state of pregnancy. For the most part, Liz ran the show. She was a tough-minded woman, and this, among a long list of things, was why he had married her. But just as she had her strengths, he had his, too. And he feared they were in an area where he had significantly more experience than his wife.

"Do you remember," Michael said in a stem voice, "what happened right here in this house not so long ago?" Michael pointed at the floor. "You went to the store, and when you came back, I was gone."

Liz O'Rourke's big brown eyes looked up at her husband, and she swallowed hard. The memory was more like a nightmare. Thanks to Michael's grandfather and Scott Coleman, her husband had come within inches of losing his life. On the night in question, Michael had been abducted from this very house and taken to the home of one of the most powerful men in Washington. He had been brutally beaten and interrogated, and if it hadn't been for the quick actions of CIA DirectorThomas Stansfield, Michael wouldn't be standing here right now.

"Liz." Michael lowered his voice. "We have been dragged into this through no fault of our own. A certain dark chapter in our past has been dredged up and dangled in front of our faces." He slowly shook his head. "And I honestly don't know if Scott Coleman's name was mentioned as a threat or merely an honest suggestion, but I need some answers. Can you understand that?"

Liz looked apprehensive, but she nodded. Michael walked over to the chair and sat. With hands folded and his elbows resting on his knees, he looked at Anna and said, "I know Mitch is much, much more than a computer consultant, and I'm guessing from the way you've been acting since I picked you up at his house that you also know he's more than just a simple computer consultant."

She didn't deny nor confirm the accusation, so O'Rourke took it as a yes. "For him to send Liz that e-mail means one of three things." Michael began ticking the options off on his fingers. "First, he's a spy for us and quite possible a former Navy SEAL." Rielly's tear-filled eyes squinted in a questioning manner at the SEAL comment.

"Second, he's a spy for someone else. Or third, he's involved in something illegal like drugs."

Anna shook her head vigorously at the last suggestion.

"Does he work for the CIA?"

"I don't want to talk about this." Rielly gestured with her hands for Michael to stop.

"How about the Pentagon?" he persisted.

"Don't ask any more questions."

"Is it the NSA?"

"Michael, no. I told you I can't talk about this." Rielly buried her face in her hands. "Just please leave me alone." Anna wanted everything to stop. Her head was throbbing. All she wanted was to have Mitch home and safe. She'd been having nightmares about this very thing for the last two months. In every single one of those dreams, Mitch was dead, and it scared her in a way she had never experienced. It was unbearable to think that she could come this far, find the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and then lose him.

Before telling her his real story, Mitch had made Anna promise that she would never discuss what he did for the CIA. Not even with her parents and surely not a U.S. congressman. But Mitch had reached out from wherever he was and contacted Liz and Michael. Anna didn't know what to do.

"Why don't you ask Mitch yourself?"

Michael ignored her and said, "Anna, you know what I do for a living. I can pick up a phone and have someone from the CIA sitting in this room within an hour. It's required by law. I sit on the House Select Committee on Intelligence, and they have to answer to us. I could go down to the Hill right now, and with my security clearance, I could start digging. I will probably set off some alarms at Langley and the Pentagon and God only knows where else, but people will have to answer my questions."

Anna lifted her head and looked at O'Rourke. "Michael, I'm begging you, just leave it alone until you can talk to Mitch."

"I can't do that;' he said, firmly shaking his head. "Mitch dumped this in our laps, and in the process he has dredged up some stuff that I would really prefer be kept buried. I need to know how he knows about that stuff, and I need to know now."

"I can't tell you. I promised."

O'Rourke took in a deep breath and then let it out in a frustrated moan. He wasn't getting anywhere. Rielly was every bit as stubborn as his wife. Changing tactics, he asked, "Do you think it's fair to my family that Mitch has dumped this on us? He's obviously in some serious shit if he's worried about your safety." Leaning closer to Rielly he said, "I think I know what Mitch does for a living, and this is not some game." O'Rourke pointed to himself. "I know. I've been there. Dark-clad men, in the middle of the night with silenced weapons, making people disappear without a trace. That's why he got hold of us. There is no other reason. He's worried about your safety. Now; would you please answer my questions? I need and deserve to know what we've been involved in."

Rielly's tears fell even harder, and she blew her nose on a tissue. "I can't. I made a promise."

O'Rourke was getting really frustrated. Tears be damned, he pushed ahead. "Mitch wanted us to bring you here because he's afraid someone will try to get their hands on you so they can get to him. I have no problem protecting you. I love you, and Liz loves you, but for Christ sake, we're now in danger, too. If you won't answer my questions, I'm going to be forced to start digging."

Rielly began to cry so hard she shook. Liz pulled her close and held her tight. She looked at her husband with the most disgusted expression he had ever seen. He opened his mouth to speak, but Liz stuck her hand out. "Don't say another word."

O'Rourke stood and out of sheer frustration said, "This is a bunch of bullshit."

A second later, Anna Rielly was up and walking across the room. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry I got you involved in this." She continued into the foyer and grabbed her jacket.

Liz O'Rourke was right on her heels. As she passed her six-foot-two-inch, two-hundred-fifteen-pound husband, she delivered a forearm shiver that moved him back a step.

"Anna, where do you think you're going?" shouted Liz. "I'm leaving. It's not fair to have gotten you involved in this. I made the choice to fall in love with him, not you. You shouldn't have to go through this."

Liz grabbed her best friend by the arm and swung her back toward the stairs. Pushing her up the steps, she said, "You are staying right here until I know you're safe!" Rielly began to protest, but Liz would have none of it. She continued pushing her old college roommate up the stairs. On the fourth step, Liz stopped and glared at her husband.

Michael started to say, "I was only..."

"Don't even try to explain yourself." snapped Liz. "I am so disappointed in you right now, I don't even want to look at you!" With that, the two women were up the stairs and gone.

Michael watched them go and then smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. On his way into the kitchen, he threw a dozen well-punctuated swear words at himself and then threw in a few more for good measure. Michael yanked the refrigerator door open and grabbed a bottle of beer. He took a big swig and leaned back against the counter. Duke came up and sat in front of him. O'Rourke looked down at the yellow Lab and said, "It's just you and me, buddy."

After taking another gulp of beer, O'Rourke shook his head in sheer frustration. It really sucked knowing that even though you were right, you were wrong. Every single thing he had just said in the other room was right, but because they didn't like the way he said it, he was now wrong and would pay the price. O'Rourke let out a loud moan and thought, Give'em an hour; and then go upstairs and apologize.

In the meantime, there was one thing he could do. O'Rourke walked over to the phone on the kitchen wall and grabbed it. Opening the cupboard, he glanced down a phone list until he found the right number. A short while later, a woman answered on the other end.

"Capitol Hill Police Department. How may I direct your call?"

"Watch commander, please."

There were two clicks on the line, and then another female voice came on. "This is Sergeant Hall."

"Sergeant, this is Congressman O'Rourke. How are you doing tonight?"

"Just fine, and you, sir?"

"Well... I just got a weird phone call. The second one in two days."

"Did they threaten bodily harm?"

"Yeah, the standard stuff. I wouldn't bother you, but my wife is pregnant, and she doesn't need the stress right now." O'Rourke pinched the bridge of his nose. If the watch commander only knew how true that was.

"Would you like me to have a unit check up on you throughout the night?"

"That would be great. Do you need the address?"

"Nope. I've got it right here on the screen. You're in Georgetown just off Wisconsin." "That's correct."

"We'll take care of it, sir. Someone will be by every hour, and if there are any more problems, don't hesitate to call."

"I won't. Thank you, Sergeant." O'Rourke placed the phone back in the cradle and paused. He was tempted to make another call, but considering the trouble he had already gotten himself in tonight, he decided against it. They would be safe in the house with the new security measures. Beyond that, he would sleep on the couch with Duke and his Remington 12-gauge shotgun. They would be fine for the night, and then, he hoped, tomorrow would bring more answers and less emotion.