The Third Option   ::   Flynn Vince

Clark had to allow himself a moment of self-congratulation. The way he had manipulated his way out of a potential disaster was brilliant. It was too bad he wouldn't be able to share his role in the secretary of state's resignation with his party's leadership. Someday he might be able to boast, but for now he needed to keep things quiet. He must lie in wait until this storm blew over.

Clark didn't fear many people, but he most definitely feared Thomas Stansfield. The man's intellect and ability to see through deception was amazing. Clark knew that he could not have pulled this off if it wasn't for Stansfield's decaying health. The director of the CIA would have seen right through what he was doing.

Clark would have to make a strong effort to cozy up to Dr. Kennedy and gain her confidence. She would need his help in the coming months. The political battle over her confirmation would be very draining, and she would need an ally on the Hill.

As for Mitch Rapp, Clark wasn't entirely sure. If there was a storm out there on the horizon, he was the lightning waiting to strike. If Cameron had only succeeded in Germany, none of this would be an issue. Rapp would be dead, and the town would be gearing up for one of the biggest investigations in the history of the Congress. The president would be suffering death by a thousand cuts, and Hank Clark would be in the perfect position to launch his bid for the Oval Office.

Instead, Rapp was alive, Cameron was dead, and there was no investigation. Clark would have to find a replacement for Cameron. There were several who came to mind, but he doubted any of them could handle Rapp. Clark took a sip of wine and looked into the fire, searching for a way to deal with Rapp. He'd been staring into the bright flames for minutes when Brutus let out a yawn. The golden retriever lifted his head and stared at his master with his big brown eyes. Clark smiled and held his glass up in a toast to Brutus Marcus Junius. Keep your enemies close, the senator told himself. Clark finished his glass of wine and then decided he would have to make arrangements to meet this Mitch Rapp.

The dogs grumbled at first, and then, when the doorbell rang, they let loose with the barks. Clark had them calmed down by the time his very important visitor was shown to into the study. Jonathan Brown, the deputy director of the he CIA, walked stiffly across the room. Clark deduced by the sour expression on the former judge's face that something was bothering him.

Brown, still in a suit and tie, sat on the couch across from Clark. Wringing his hands as if he were Macbeth himself, Brown studied Clark 's face for a sign of guilt.