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The second man Harris had picked was Danny Craft. The choice was actually a foregone conclusion, since Craft was Shultz’s swim buddy. Craft was Shultz’s junior by ten years. Where Shultz was calm and introspective, Craft was active and outgoing. And where Shultz was plain-looking, Craft was boyishly handsome. Looking quite a bit younger than his twenty-eight years of age, Craft had used his blue-gray eyes to woo college coeds on both coasts. There was rarely a free night that the young SEAL spent alone.
The two men were polar opposites, and as the older Shultz had expected, this worked to their advantage. Craft saw things that Shultz didn’t and vice versa. Over the last two years they had honed their skills and become a very effective duo.
As they prepared for their insertion, the two men stood side by side in front of a long folding table and checked their equipment one last time. Besides their weapons and specialized tool kits, they were bringing one exceptional piece of equipment. Laid out on the table before them was a mobile X-ray imager made by Safety and Security Instruments out of San Diego. The first two pieces of the unit were the RTR-4 X-ray Imager and the XR-200 X-ray Source. The two units worked in conjunction with a third piece of equipment, the RTR-4 control unit. This portable Pentium computer was mounted in a supersturdy gasket-sealed aluminum case with shock-mounted components. The active-matrix color flat-panel display on the control unit would provide Shultz and Craft with a real-time sneak and peek into the guts of Aziz’s bombs. Without the RTR-4, any attempt to open the outer casing of the bombs would be a game of Russian roulette.
Standing fifteen feet away, in the open doorway of the CIA communications van, Lt. Commander Harris was busy listening to General Campbell and Irene Kennedy back at Langley. Harris was waiting for an opportunity to make his pitch, but hadn’t found it. General Campbell was asking a lot of questions, as was Kennedy. When there was finally a pause, Harris made his move.
“General Campbell, I’d like to request permission to go in with my demo boys. I think—”
Campbell cut him off. “Request denied. I want you with your team.” Harris held the handset of the secure field radio to his ear. He was not to be deterred so easily. “I respectfully disagree, sir. I think I would be more valuable helping conduct the recon of the building.”
“You are to stay put, Commander.”
The voice was not Campbell’s. It was General Flood’s. Harris, slightly caught off guard, had not expected Flood to be listening in on the conversation.
The highest-ranking officer in the entire U.S. military continued by saying, “If things proce
ed well, there’s a good chance we’ll be sending you and your team in.”
“Yes, sir,” was the only reply Harris could muster.
“Now get your boys moving. Iron Man will be waiting for them on the other side.”
BACK IN THE stash room, Mitch Rapp was reorganizing his gear for his incursion back into the bowels of the two-hundred-year-old mansion. Things were happening fast, but he was more than happy to receive the professional services of a couple of SEAL demolition experts, especially since it would mean he would not have to deal with the bombs.
One thing he did want to do before he headed out, though, was talk to the woman he had grabbed from the president’s bed. Rapp had been so busy talking to Kennedy and the others that he hadn’t had the chance to find out who the woman was and, more important, if she had any information that might help them.
Moving his gear to the side, Rapp took off his baseball cap and scratched his head. Watching Adams give the woman some water, he noticed for the first time that she was very attractive, stunning actually. Rapp scooted forward on his knees to get a little closer and asked, “How are you feeling?”
Rielly had wrapped herself tightly in the sheet and had one arm out. Looking up at the man kneeling in front of her, she replied timidly, “I’m fine.” But, before the last syllable left her mouth, the tears started again. Rielly brushed some of them from her cheek and added, “I’m not fine . . . I’m a mess.”
Rapp laughed at her blunt observation. Reaching out, he grabbed her shoulder and said, “You’re fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Rielly looked up again, her bottom lip quivering slightly. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did.” Grabbing his hand, she squeezed it and said, “I owe you my life.”
Rapp blushed slightly. “Now . . . now. . . there’s no need to be melodramatic.” He didn’t know how to deal with the unusually personal gratitude of the woman, having grown used to his deeds going unnoticed by all but a select few.
“I’m serious.” Rielly squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m not being melodramatic. You saved my life.”
“Well,” Rapp started uncomfortably, “he might not have killed you.”
“Oh,” scoffed Rielly in between sniffles. “That’s a hell of a consolation.” She started to cry even harder.
Milt Adams was still sitting next to Rielly. He looked at Rapp and shook his head. “You need to learn how to accept someone’s gratitude, you big oaf. ‘You’re welcome’—that’s what you say to the pretty little woman.”
With his hand still on the woman’s shoulder, Rapp scowled at Adams. Etiquette was hardly a concern of his at the moment. Rapp turned back to the woman, whose moist cheek was now resting on his hand. After squeezing her shoulder lightly, Rapp reached out with his other hand and brushed some of the tears from her cheek.
“You’re welcome,” he started tentatively. “I’m glad I was there to help.” Rapp held her cheek for a moment and then lifted her head, so he could look her in the eye. That was when he noticed them, the greenest eyes he had ever seen. So beautiful were they that Rapp lost his concentration for a second and forgot what he was about to ask.
He blinked several times and then remembered where he was headed. “I need to ask you some questions. Are you up to it?”
Rielly nodded and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. Taking part of her sheet, she blew her nose quietly and said, “God, I haven’t cried this much in years.”
“Well, you’ve been through a lot.” Rapp was making a concerted effort to say the right things.
“What a shitty couple of days.” Rielly shook her head and managed a laugh.
“Yeah . . . I’d imagine they don’t get much worse.” Rapp looked at his watch and said, “Listen, I have some things I have to do, but I want to ask you some questions first.”
