Transfer of Power (29 page)

Oh, shit, Rapp thought to himself. This could be a problem.

"Who do you work for?"

"NEC. It was my first day on the job."

"Nice timing," Rapp said with a raised eyebrow.

"No shit." Rielly shook her head.

"Where have you been held for the last several days?"

"In the White House mess."

Rapp looked to Adams, who nodded and said, "That's where I thought he would hold them. No exterior windows and the room is big enough."

Rapp was worried about whether Aziz had kept all of the hostages together or split them up. As a general rule, that decision depended on assets and the layout of the building. With this in mind, Rapp was inclined to believe that with Aziz's limited manpower, he would be forced to keep all of the hostages in one place.

"Were all of the hostages kept in the mess?"

"Yes." Rielly shrugged her shoulders.

"At least I think so."

"How many of you?"

Biting her bottom Up, Rielly thought about it for a moment and said, "I don't know. Eighty… one hundred… a hundred and twenty… ? I don't know."

"I really need you to think about this one. You don't have to answer it right now, but I need you to try and remember how many people were in the mess."

Rielly nodded.

"I'll try."

"What about Secret Service agents? Were they held in the same room as you?" Rapp knew Aziz well enough to bet that he would at. the very least separate the Secret Service agents from the hostages.

"I don't know. When all this started, I'd only been on the job for about fifteen minutes. I don't know what any of the agents look like."

"You don't have to know them personally to be able to pick them out.

They all have short haircuts, athletic builds… They stand out." Rapp looked at her proddingly.

"Come on, you're a reporter." With a grin he added, "You're supposed to notice stuff like that."

Rielly thought about it.

"I don't remember seeing anyone like that."

"What about any marines or other military types?" asked Milt Adams.

Rielly shook her head immediately.

"I know for a fact I didn't see anyone in a uniform."

Rapp nodded to Adams, approving of the timely question.

That settled it for him. Aziz was either holding the Secret Service and military personnel in a different location, or he had killed all of them. Knowing Aziz, the latter was a distinct possibility.

"How many different terrorists did you see?"

Rielly closed her eyes for a second.

"I think I saw six of them, and I'm pretty sure I saw the leader. Some Prince something or other. I actually met him on the street on my way in the morning all of this started. He got out of a limo with Russ Piper, the chairman of the DNC. Russ is an old friend of my family." Rielly paused.

"I haven't seen him since this whole thing started… I hope he's all right."

"The leader is not a prince," said Rapp.

"His name is Rafique Aziz."

Rielly had a spasm of shivers and said, "Well, whoever he is, he's evil, and I don't mean just crazy or goofy, I mean evil.

He shot someone in cold blood just because they asked for blankets and food. He just lifted his gun without any warning and shot the man in the head."

"That would be Rafique Aziz," said Rapp somberly. Then looking down at his watch, he decided he had better get moving.

"Well, Ms. Rielly, we'll have to continue this later. I have to go take care of something."

"Please call me Anna." Rielly smiled.

"All right' Anna I don't know how long this will take, but I should be back in an hour or less. Milt here will take care of you, so don't worry. I know he doesn't look like much, but don't let that fool you."

Adams looked at Rapp deadpan. Rapp grabbed the small fanny pack for his short excursion and strapped it around his waist. He turned his baseball cap around backward and placed his headset over the top, but after hearing only static interference, he turned off the small radio.

Rielly watched him intently as he moved about the room on his knees When he grabbed his submachine gun and stood, Rielly asked, "Who do you work for, Mitch?"

"The post office." Rapp nodded for Adams to get up and then looked back at Rielly.

"Anna, we'll have to finish this interview later." With a wink, he added reassuringly, "Keep an eye on Milt for me." THE SEARCH OF the second and third floors of the White House had taken almost twenty-five minutes.

The three men worked in unison, one always covering the other two, as they went from room to room checking the closets and under the beds. Aziz had been sure they would find her cowering in one of the closets, but they had not.

They descended from the third floor. Aziz, walking in the lead, was thinking. He was thinking about the building and how old it was, how much it bothered him that he couldn't just walk from one building to the other without going outside.

If he could just have gotten his hands around the president in his office, he would not have had to spread his people so thin. But Aziz knew if he wanted to get the Americans to meet all of his demands, he would have to extract the cowardly president from the safety of his bunker. And the only way he could do that was if his little thief, his gift from Saddam, was successful in his task.

Aziz stopped suddenly and did an about-face. Bengazi and Ragib stopped just short of running into their leader. They were dred and their reaction time dulled. Aziz pointed back down the hall and said, "Follow me. I have decided there is something else we need to check while we are here."

The two men stood aside, and Aziz marched off in the direction from which they had come. As they continued down the staircase to the first basement, Aziz opened the fire door and stepped into the hallway. He stood there for several seconds, looking in both directions, and then he walked back into the staircase and continued down to the second basement. He repeated his actions on this floor, pausing just long enough to look down the hallway.

When they reached the third basement, Aziz pointed to the stairwell door and said to Ragib, "You wait here. "Aziz then marched down the hall with Bengazi.

When the corridor ended, the two men turned to the left and continued for another thirty feet. Aziz was immediately surprised by the lack of noise when he had checked on his little thief some four hours earlier, the sound had been pronounced.

Slightly alarmed by the change, Aziz brought his assault rifle up to a leveled position. Bengazi, sensing his boss's tension, did the same. The outer door that Mustafa had broken through on the first night was only half open. As Aziz approached, he could see only a portion of the outer room to the president's bunker, and his little thief was not in sight.

Aziz walked to the left so he could see the right side of the room.

There was still nothing: no sound, no Mustafa.

Without stopping, Aziz slid through the partially opened door and snapped the muzzle of his MP-5 to the left. What he saw upset him instantly. Against the far wall, Mustafa was sitting on the floor, asleep in an upright position—his short arms wrapped around his potbelly and his mouth open with a stream of drool running down his chin. Aziz took three steps and forcefully kicked the man's feet.

Mustafa's eyes opened instantly, and Aziz shoved the muzzle of his rifle to within an inch of his face.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

Nervously, he replied, "I was taking a nap."

"I can see that. Why aren't the drills running?"

"They needed a rest."

The safecracker tried to move farther away from the weapon, but there was nowhere to go.

"If I run them nonstop, they will burn out."

Aziz moved the rifle away from the man's face. The answer had satisfied him for the moment.

"Are you still on schedule?"

"Yes." Mustafa rolled his plump body onto one knee and stood. "I am actually several hours ahead of schedule."

Aziz raised an interested eyebrow.

"Really. When do you expect to have the door opened?"

Mustafa looked at his watch. "If the drills continue to work well, I think I can have the door opened around seven this evening."

Aziz smiled.

"That would make me very happy." Slapping the shorter man on the back, Aziz said, "You have done good work, Mustafa."

"Thank you." Mustafa bowed his head slightly, accepting the rare compliment.

Aziz looked over at the shiny vault door. In less than twenty-four hours he would have his hands on the president.

Mustafa's news of being ahead of schedule helped assuage Aziz's anger over the loss of hasan. Once he had the president, he could breathe a sigh of relief.

LEAVING THE STASH room was a tense process. The only eyes Rapp had outside the room were the sole surveillance unit he had placed in the president's bedroom. This assured him that it was safe to exit the stash room, but Milt cautioned him that the large closet also had a door at the opposite end that led into the First Lady's bedroom.

"All right," Rapp whispered, and Adams opened the wall several inches.

Not moving, not breathing, Rapp peeked through the crack and listened.

Stepping into the closet, he immediately noticed that its door to the First Lady's bedroom was open. Rapp checked to his left and his right twice and then walked toward the First Lady's bedroom. He stood at the doorframe for a moment and listened. The room was empty.

Directly across the room was another door, which was closed. Rapp figured it was either a closet or a bathroom.

Whichever the case, it made no difference. The fact that the door he was standing in had been left open and the one across the room had been closed, however, was significant. It meant that Aziz and his men had done a sloppy job on the search.

Each door should have been opened, checked, and then closed.

Because of this inconsistency, Rapp felt confident enough to close the door to the closet. He quickly rummaged through the closet, grabbing a sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of white sweat socks. Rapp went back to the stash room door and handed the clothes to Adams.

"Give these to Anna." Rapp looked at the shelf to his right and saw a blanket and two pillows.

"Here, take these too. Try to get her to sleep." Rapp began to close the door and said, "And make sure you don't bolt this thing. If I'm in a hurry to get back in, I don't want to have to stand out here and knock."

Adams nodded and said, "Good luck."

Rapp closed the organizer tight and silently moved across the president's bedroom. Three steps and he was across the entrance hall and into the bathroom. Reaching behind a light to the left of the medicine cabinet, he found the button and pressed it. The wall sprang open an inch, and with his gloved hand, Rapp pulled it open several more feet.

With the push of another button, the elevator's doors opened, and Rapp began his near silent descent. Seconds later the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Rapp retraced his earlier steps, down the hallway and into the stairs leading to the third basement.

When he arrived at the landing door, he reached for the handle and stopped just inches short. The stairwell was darker than the hallway on the other side, and a half inch of bright light bordered the bottom of the door. Rapp had seen something.

His eyes had caught some type of motion, a variance in light.

Cautiously, Rapp backed up, wondering if the SEALS could already have arrived.

With his gun leveled, he kept his eyes trained on the patch of light.

After only seconds he saw the shadow again. Frowning, he opened up the monitor, this time not daring to holster his weapon With the monitor opened, his gun in his left hand and the snake in his right, he moved to the far side of the door handle and slowly inched the tiny lens forward along the concrete floor. Rapp's eyes went back and forth between watching the screen and watching the progress of the snake. An inch at a time, he nudged it forward. The first thing Rapp saw on the screen was a pair of boots. As he pushed the lens forward, combat fatigues came into view and then the distinctive barrel, handgrip, and curved magazine OF AN AK-74. Rapp pulled the snake back deliberately and swore to himself.

Why was a bad guy all of the sudden down here in the basement? They had come across no one on the way in. Why now? As Rapp leaned flat against the wall, he tried to make some sense of it. After a while he decided it must have been the girl. He had to make a decision, and the sooner he made it the better. Waiting in the stairwell was not an option. There was no cover, and someone could come along at any minute. It was too big a risk. Opening the door and shooting the terrorist was an option, but one that would have to be a last resort. Rapp was left with only one real course—go back and tell Kennedy and Campbell to put the SEALS in a holding pattern until he could make sure the basement was clear.

Rapp looked down at the corner where the white concrete wall met the hinges of the door. He reached inside the cargo pocket of his pants and extracted one of the micro video and audio surveillance units. Dropping to a knee, he attached a Velcro patch to the wall and then carefully positioned the unit so the tiny fiber-optic lens would have a view under the doorway.

Rapp ascended to the second floor of the mansion quickly, taking less than two minutes to cover the distance from the third basement.

"When the small elevator reached the second level, Rapp turned on his monitor and checked the view of the president's bedroom. All was clear on the video and the audio, so he closed the screen and stepped out onto the tile floor of the bathroom.

From there, it was across the way and into the large closet once again With the doors closed, he found the hidden latch for the wall organizer and opened the way to the stash room.

Adams and Rielly were sitting wide-eyed on the floor when Rapp entered and Adams said, "You're back kinda quick, aren't you?"

Rapp shook his head while he dropped to his knees in front of the secure field radio.

"Yeah, we've got a problem downstairs."

"Like what?"