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as looking at. There were lumps on the floor and the large conference table had been overturned and flipped against the far wall. Something moved, and that’s when he figured out that the lumps on the floor were bodies. What had moved was a leg. A leg wearing blue trousers with a red stripe running down the side. Adams immediately recognized the pants as those belonging to a U.S. marine.

A pair of more discerning eyes were back at Langley, watching both the shots from the head cams and the fiber-optic snake. General Campbell’s voice came over Adams’s headset. “Milt, give me a full sweep nice and slow, and then pull back away from the door.” Adams turned the dial with his thumb and slowly moved the snake from the left to the right and then back again. When he was done, Campbell told him, “That’s good, now bug out.” Adams withdrew the snake and went back across the hall to join Rapp.

Rapp whispered into his lip mike, “Control, what did you see? Over.”

“One Tango at eleven o’clock, sitting in a chair facing your door, holding what appears to be an AK-74 in his lap.” As Rapp listened, he could hear other voices in the background. Campbell came back seconds later. “I’ve been advised that there are two other entrances into the room, one of which is blocked. On the floor we appear to have at least a half dozen hostages, maybe more. They look to be tied and wearing hoods.”

Adams, who was standing just behind Rapp, was hearing the same thing, and he added, “One of those men in there is a marine.”

“That’s affirmative. We are reviewing the tape to see what else we can get, but for now, it looks like we’ve found our missing hostages.”

Rapp peeked back around the corner and then looked at the base of the door to the Roosevelt Room. Turning his head back toward Adams, he whispered, “Milt, fish out one of the surveillance units. Bend the lens at a right angle and stick it to the base of the door. I’ll cover you.”

Adams nodded, walked quietly across the hall, and placed the camera. Rapp asked, “Control, how does the new feed look?”

“Good, we’ve got about eighty percent of the room, and the Tango is in the picture.”

Rapp turned back to Adams. “Rig me two of the black ones.”

Adams readied the first one and handed it off to Rapp, who stepped out into the hallway. Immediately to his right was a small credenza with an arrangement of wilting flowers sitting in an ornate vase. Rapp reached behind the credenza and stuck the surveillance unit to the back of it. Stepping back into the pantry, he retrieved the second unit and placed it underneath the credenza at an angle that would cover the hallway as it went in the other direction.

50

MUSTAFA YASSIN WAS proud of his work. He double-checked his progress again and grinned. With satisfaction, he flipped off the power switches on all three drills and backed the bits out of their holes. He had reached the proper depth early. Yassin did not have the brawn of men like Aziz, but he was smarter than most. The little thief had learned from dealing with men like Saddam to pad his estimates and manage his superiors’ expectations.

The main drill, and largest of the three, sat on a tripod. Yassin tugged at the base and pulled it back out of the way. The other two drills were magnetized. After wresting them from the door, he sat on his toolbox and lit up a cigarette. The plump man inhaled deeply and picked up his radio. He toggled the transmit button and called Aziz.

Aziz was snacking on a sandwich in the galley of the White House mess when he heard the call. Pulling his radio to his mouth, he said, “Mustafa, this is Rafique. What do you want?”

“I am ready for you.”

Aziz set his sandwich down and wiped the crumbs from his fingers. “Say again.”

“I am ready for you. When you arrive, I will proceed with the last part.”

Aziz was elated. “I will be over shortly.” Grabbing his MP-5 from the counter, he walked out into the mess and looked over the mass of huddled hostages. There was one person in particular he was looking for. Someone who would elicit the proper emotion from the president. Aziz circled the group looking for the face of Sally Burke, the president’s secretary and mother of five. If the president’s bodyguards chose to fight, Mrs. Burke would be used as a shield. Aziz found her sitting with a group of women. With his long thin finger, he gestured for her to join him.

Burke pointed to herself nervously and asked, “Me?”

“Yes, you, Mrs. Burke.” Smiling, Aziz extended his hand to help the woman to her feet.

Burke reluctantly grabbed it and stood. “What do you want with me?”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be all right; we just need you to talk to someone.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine.” Aziz squeezed her shoulder-and again told her not to worry. Then gently he turned her toward the door and led her from the room. Bringing his radio to his mouth, he said, “Muammar, meet me in the pressroom.”

TO RAPP’S LEFT was the hall leading to the main entrance for the first floor. To his right was the pressroom and a door that led out onto the Colonnade. Rapp wanted to check both of them and see if they were as strongly defended as the doors in the president’s dining room and the one in the Oval Office.

As Rapp headed for the pressroom, he heard an increase in the chatter-over his headset. At the same time he heard voices from somewhere ahead. He began rapidly backpedaling down the hallway.

General Campbell came over the headset, his voice rushed. “Iron Man, we’re out of time. They’ve stopped drilling and are getting ready to open the bunker door.”

Rapp couldn’t respond at the moment. He had more urgent things to worry about and didn’t want to give himself away by making any more noise than he had to. He made it back to the pantry seconds later and ducked out of the hallway alongside Adams. He whispered into his headset, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

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