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“My guess would be that your mother told her, which of course means half of Chicago knows by now that you’re the new White House correspondent for NBC.” Piper gave her a big hug again. “Congratulations, Anna. I know how hard you’ve worked for this, and I think it’s just fantastic.” He kissed her on the forehead. Rielly’s mother was very active in Chicago Democratic politics, and her parents had been close friends with the Pipers for as long as she could remember.
Piper released her again and with a frown asked, “When were you planning on calling us?”
“I just got in last night.”
“Where are you staying?” Piper’s brow furrowed. “I hope you’re not staying at a hotel. Dorothy will be really upset if you don’t stay with us.”
Anna tilted her head. “Russ, I’m not on spring break.” She looked away from Piper as a second man stepped from the limo. She noted that he was probably a foreigner, and one with a lot of money, judging by the clothes he was wearing.
Piper followed Rielly’s gaze to his guest and said, “Oh, I’
m sorry. Prince Kalib, I would like you to meet a very good friend of mine, Ms. Anna Rielly.”
Aziz looked at the stunning woman before him and was immediately drawn to her green eyes. Extending his hand, he took hers and bent forward, kissing the back of Rielly’s soft hand. Standing straight, he said, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Rielly retracted her hand, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the forward gesture. “Likewise.”
“Anna is the new White House correspondent for NBC.”
“Congratulations.” Aziz canted his chin, and while doing so, noted the two guards by the door.
“Thank you.”
Piper looked at his watch. “Anna, the president is squeezing us in, so I don’t want to be late. Do you have plans for dinner?”
“Ah . . .” Rielly shook her head while she thought about it. “No.” “Good. Call Dorothy and tell her we’re on.”
Rielly smiled. “I’ll call right away.”
“Good, we’ll see you tonight.”
Piper and Aziz walked under the awning and through the double doors that led to the ground floor of the West Wing. A uniformed Secret Service officer who was sitting behind a desk watched a monitor as they passed through the door. The monitor was connected to an X-ray machine and a metal detector that were built into the wood-framed doorway.
The officer rose to his feet. “Good morning, Chairman Piper.”
“Good morning, Dick. I have one guest, and I’ll vouch for him personally.”
The officer checked his list and saw that Piper’s office had called late the previous evening and scheduled a meeting with the president. “Is this Prince Kalib?”
“Yes,” replied Piper.
The agent handed Aziz a visitor’s badge and said, “Please wear this at all times while in the building, and when you’re done with your meeting, return to this desk and turn it in before leaving.”
Aziz took the badge, and Piper said, “Thanks, Dick,” as he and the prince started down the hallway.
As Aziz clipped the badge to his lapel, he noticed his hands felt almost weightless. His whole body felt light. He was finally going through the real steps of something that he had played over and over in his mind countless times. This was it, and it all seemed so easy. As they continued down the hallway, Aziz reached down and pressed a button on his watch once. After doing so, he glanced over his shoulder and looked at the guards by the door.
Washington, D.C.
ONE BLOCK EAST of the White House a slight man in a white jacket and black pants was vacuuming the hallway on the top floor of the Washington Hotel. The man paused for a moment and looked out the French doors that led to the rooftop patio. Across the street he could see the roof of the Treasury Department and then just beyond that the White House. From this elevated position he could clearly see the guard standing watch on the roof of the Executive Mansion, less than two hundred yards away. The guard was wearing blue coveralls and a matching baseball cap. A pair of binoculars were slung around his neck, and from time to time he used them to scan different areas. On the far side of the roof was a small white guard booth.
Salim Rusan had looked out these doors five days a week for almost three months and watched the movements of the Secret Service. The guard on the roof would be easy to take care of. The young Palestinian shifted his eyes to the far end of the South Lawn, where the Rose Garden ran up to the edge of the Colonnade, just outside the Oval Office. A Secret Service agent was on post, not one of the uniformed officers. That meant the president was in the West Wing, where he was supposed to be. The agent by the Oval Office would be first, and the guard on the roof would be second. That had been Aziz’s decision. Aziz had decided everything. Every last detail.
The pager on the young Palestinian’s hip vibrated, and he jerked at the awkward feeling. Aziz was inside the White House. It was going to happen. Rusan started for the closet at the end of the hallway, licking his lips and noting the tightening sensation in his chest. It was time to get ready.
7
30,000 feet, Eastern Atlantic Ocean
