Rapp wasn’t so sure, but maybe with a little reprogramming they could get him back on the right team. He’d never pull a Saddam Hussein on him, but he might show him a few photos just to scare the piss out of him. “All right, now where are these copies?”
CHAPTER 48
THE house was on a nice tree-lined street in North Arlington, not far from where Rapp had grown up. It was upscale, but not obnoxious. Lots of two-story colonials and federal style houses with well-kept lawns. Lawyers, lobbyists, and government contractors lived in the neighborhood. Jobs that fed out of the bottomless trough of federal funds. Very few civil servants lived in the neighborhood, unless, like Nash, their spouse worked in the private sector.
Rapp pulled up in front of the house a few minutes before eight and threw the gearshift into park. He looked up the sidewalk at the white front door and imagined what was going on inside. Kennedy had called Nash before bed and told him he would be traveling with her for most of the day. They had a closed meeting on the Hill with the Judiciary Committee and then a briefing with the president. If Nash had told Kennedy about his problem with Rapp she had failed to pass it along. Rapp undid his seat belt and climbed out of the car. As he started up the walk he wondered if Nash might take a swing at him. Rapp hoped he’d gotten a little sleep and regained some of his senses.
Rapp hit the doorbell and then stepped off the front stoop. If Nash was still pissed it was best to have a little room to maneuver. A few seconds later Maggie answered the door. She had raven-black hair, a button nose, and bright blue eyes, all set against smooth alabaster skin. She was already dolled up for the big day, dressed in a black pencil skirt and white cotton blouse with a shirred waist. Her jet-black hair was slicked back in a perfect high ponytail that both showed off her gorgeous face and gave her a little bit of that corporate dominatrix look that told men to tread carefully. You would never guess by looking at her that she’d given birth to four kids.
Maggie flashed Rapp a nice smile and a conspiratorial wink. “Mitch, what a nice surprise.” She offered her cheek.
Rapp kissed it and whispered, “How’s he doing?”
“He doesn’t have a clue.” Then in a louder voice she said, “Come on in.” Maggie led him down the hallway. “We’re getting the kids ready for school.”
“Good, I was hoping I’d catch them.”
As Rapp entered the kitchen four faces lit up as if it were Christmas and one face turned so sour you would have guessed his mortal enemy had just walked in the room. Shannon, the fifteen-year-old daughter, jumped up from the kitchen table and threw her arms out. “Uncle Mitch.” She gave Rapp a hug and said, “Guess what?” Before Rapp had a chance to answer she said, “I get my permit Saturday!”
It had been a long time since Rapp had gone through that teenage right of passage, but she was obviously extremely excited at the prospect of being able to drive. “Great.”
“Will you take me driving?”
“Absolutely.” Rapp reached out and rubbed the head of Jack, the ten-year-old brain child, who was simultaneously working on a bowl of cereal and watching Sports Center. Maggie was from Boston and the kids were all big Red Sox fans, so Rapp asked, “How are your Yankees doing?”
“Yeah, right,” Jack replied. “They’re a bunch of overpaid prima donnas.”
“Sounds like you’re talking about the Red Sox.”
Maggie was coming back from the other side of the kitchen with a fresh cup of black coffee. “Don’t make me throw this on you.” She handed the mug to Rapp, just as Charlie, the one-year-old, started banging on the tray of his high chair.
Rapp took the mug and turned to face Charlie, who was looking up at him with his big brown eyes. He had an expectant smile on his sloppy, food-caked lips. “Sorry, little man. I was getting to you.” Rapp bent over and kissed the top of his head. When he straightened up he looked at Rory, who was sitting on the other side of the table. The thirteen-year-old had a plate of Pop Tarts and an open book in front of him. “How’d it go last weekend?”
Rory looked up with a barely concealed grin. “We won all three matches.”
Without looking away from the TV, Jack said, “He had fourteen goals. No one could stop him.”
“Nice,” Rapp said. Rory was a phenomenal athlete. Rapp had been an All-American lacrosse star at Syracuse and took great joy in watching Rory play. The kid was a man child on the pitch and had the potential to play at the highest levels.
“We play again Saturday,” Rory said, dropping a hint.
“Great… I’ll try to make it.” Rapp turned his attention away from the kids to Mr. Sourpuss, who was standing on the other side of the kitchen. “Irene wanted me to pick you up.” He checked his watch. “She wants us to get there early so we can go over a few things.”
“I can drive myself,” Nash said gruffly.
“Still pouting, I see.”
Maggie cleared her throat extra-loud and said, “Come on, kids. Let’s go. It’s time to load up.” She took a washcloth to Charlie’s face and then unhooked and plucked him out of the chair. She handed him off to Rapp and said, “He needs to be dropped off at day care. Make sure Grumpy gets the car seat from the back of the van.” She kissed Charlie and Mitch and then walked over to her husband, kissed him, and said, “I love you. Be safe and have a great day. I’ll call you later.”
Thirty seconds later she was gone with the kids and Rapp was standing in the kitchen with Charlie in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Nash was leaning against the far counter looking at Rapp as if he was trying to figure out if he could take a swing at him and not hurt Charlie.
Nash took a sip of coffee and said, “I have a bruise on my chest.”
This wasn’t Rapp’s thing-handling people with kid gloves. He was tempted to put Charlie back in the high chair and kick his dad’s ass, but that would be a little shortsighted. The only thing that mattered today was getting Nash to the White House. Rapp swallowed his pride, ignored every code he’d ever learned about leading warriors, and said, “I’m sorry. I wish it hadn’t come to that.”
“Come to that… that’s your apology.”
Rapp sighed. “Listen… let’s talk in the car. There are some things I need to say to you, and…”
“And what?”
“When was the last time your house was swept?”
“Probably a month ago.”
“We’ll talk in the car.” Rapp’s word was final.
They left through the side door. Nash handed Rapp a diaper bag and walked over to the two-car detached garage to grab the car seat. Charlie saw the neighbor’s cat and about jumped out of Rapp’s arms. He pointed and bounced and yelled and when none of that worked he grabbed a fist full of Rapp’s hair and gave it a good yank. Rapp was so amused by the kid’s determination that he just laughed.
Once Nash had finished wrestling with the car seat, they strapped Charlie in and were off. Nash didn’t speak for the first minute. When they got to Glebe Road, Rapp said, “I know you’re mad at me, but you have to tell me where we’re going.”
“We’re going to the Dirksen Senate Office Building. You know where it is.”
Rapp thought, Holy cow, he really is losing his mind. Then he jerked his head toward the backseat and said, “Charlie’s day care.”
“Oh, take a left.”
Rapp pulled onto Glebe and said, “Listen… I’m not the easiest guy to work with, and neither is Stan, but you have to take a little ownership in this.”
“In what?” Nash asked, obviously irritated.
“You think I knocked you on your ass yesterday because I’m frustrated with my job?”
“Maybe.”
