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Dunn smiled broadly. “This could be good.” Frantically, she began typing. King watched her for about half a minute, and then Dunn closed her laptop. She packed it and her phone in her bag and said, “I’ve got to get this in before we go to press.” Dunn stood. She was wearing a tight blue skirt that hugged her thin frame. Leaning over the table, she grabbed King by the jaw with one hand and said, “You and I aren’t done. If you keep this up, you just might wear me down.” Dunn pulled King’s lips to hers and gently ran the tip of her tongue along his upper lip. She let her tongue hang there just long enough to leave him wanting more and then turned and left.
23
JACK WARCH STOOD by the bunker door and touched the smooth surface with the palm of his hand. It had been several hours since he had done so, and as far as he could tell the door was getting warmer. He took that as a bad sign. Warch had been beating his brains out all day over what to do if the terrorists got the door open before the Hostage Rescue Team intervened. He assumed from the explosions he had heard during the initial assaults that they had grenades. That would make it a short fight. He could put the president in the small bathroom on the other side of the bunker and buy maybe another five minutes. That would result in more dead agents and ultimately a dead or captured president.
Warch plopped down on his bunk. As he exhaled a deep sigh, he saw the president coming over. Warch straightened up a bit and started to stand.
Hayes gestured to him with a patting motion of his hand and said, “Don’t get up. Do you mind if I sit?”
“Please,” said Warch as he scooted over.
“You’re from Wisconsin, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought so. I saw your two boys running around on the South Lawn one Saturday morning in their Packer jerseys. I figured either you or your wife was from Wisconsin.”
Warch half laughed. “No. My wife’s from Minnesota. She hates it when I dress them up in the Packer gear.”
“She should have thought of that before she married you.”
“That’s what I tell her.” Warch smiled.
“What part of Wisconsin are you from?”
“Appleton.”
“Ah, the home of Rocky Blier.”
“Yep.”
“I met him once,” pronounced Hayes with satisfaction. “What a great man . . .” With a nod of his chin he added, “What a great story.”
“Yeah, he overcame a lot. The best part about him, though, is he never let any of the success go to his head. He does a ton for the local community.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
Hayes looked down at the floor for a while. The idle conversation seemed to be over. Sitting on the edge of the bunk, he rested his elbows on his knees and continued to study the ugly brown carpeting. After a moment he leaned back and glanced over at Warch.
“Jack, I’m sorry about all of this. I appreciate everything you and your people have done for me and my family.” Hayes stopped and looked away.
Warch waited and then said, “Thank you, sir.”
After several awkward moments of silence Hayes looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. “Well, another six hours, or so, and we’ll know if they’re coming to save us.”
Warch nodded. “So, you think they’ll come tonight?”
Hayes leaned back. “Well, if I know General Flood and Director Stansfield, they’ll be pushing hard for it.” Hayes’s mind seemed to drift, and slowly he started to shake his head.
“What is it, sir?”
“I’m not so sure about the vice president.”
“How do you mean, sir?”
The president eyeballed Warch. “Jack, I trust that whatever I say to you will go no further.”
“That goes without saying, sir.”
