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Rielly nodded.
“Good. Let’s start with your name.”
“Anna . . . Anna Rielly.”
“I’m Mitch and this is Milt.”
Rielly wiped her hand on the sheet and extended it. “Nice to meet you, Mitch.” Rielly gave a warm smile, showing off her dimples. “Very nice to meet you.” Rapp grinned and shook her hand. Rielly then turned to Adams and shook his hand.
“What do you do here at the White House?” asked Rapp.
“I’m a reporter.”
From the look on Rapp’s face, one would think they were on their first date and she had just told him she had a husband. Oh, shit, Rapp thought to himself. This could be a problem. “Who do you work for?”
“NBC. 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 lip, 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.”
