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“Jane,” started Kennedy, “I need you to ask Harut what he knows about one of the terrorists named Mustafa Yassin. Specifically, ask him if Yassin is a teenage Palestinian or an Iraqi.”
“May I ask what this is all about?”
“I can’t really get into it right now; I just need some verification.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
The door to General Flood’s office opened, and the general himself entered with General Campbell and Director Stansfield. Kennedy turned away from them and said, “I have to go. How long do you think it will take to get the info?”
“I don’t know . . . We seem to be losing him a bit.”
“How do you mean?” asked Kennedy as her face twisted into an expression of concern.
“The techniques we use are not exactly beneficial to the long-term health of the human brain.”
“You mean you’re losing him as in, he’s turning into a vegetable?”
“Crudely put, yes . . . but we have extracted an extraordinary amount of information. I have found out some very interesting things that will give us terrific insight into the minds of—”
“That’s fine, Jane,” Kennedy cut Hornig off, “but I really need you to ask him those questions about Yassin. And the sooner I get the answers the better. I have to go now. Call me as soon as you get anything.” With that Kennedy hung up the phone, just as General Flood made his way around the backside of his desk.
Flood looked at Kennedy and asked, “What’s wrong now?”
Kennedy exhaled and said, “We might have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” asked Flood.
Looking across the room, Kennedy placed her hands on her hips and said, “I’m not sure, but I hope to know more within the hour.” Then looki
ng to her boss, she said, “Colonel Fine passed on a little message for us.”
Stansfield nodded knowingly and said, “I was beginning to wonder when they would weigh in.”
Kennedy walked over to where Stansfield and Campbell were standing.“He said that they will do whatever it takes to protect themselves.” Approaching the group several steps behind Kennedy, Flood pronounced, “Good for them. At least someone is sticking by their guns in this mess.”
“What happened after I left?”
The group settled into their seats, and General Flood began to recount for Kennedy the strategy laid forth by Vice President Baxter. Judging from the facial expressions around the room, even Thomas Stansfield’s, it was clear what was thought of the vice president’s plans. It seemed as if things were only going to get worse.
32
THE DOOR WAS so hot in one spot that Warch could only touch it for a second or two at a time. He took this as a terrible sign. That, and the fact that nightfall had come and gone and there had been no abatement in the drilling. Things were getting bleaker by the moment, and you could see it on the faces of the tired agents.
To make matters worse for the Secret Service agents, President Hayes had done the unthinkable. He had ordered all of them to place their weapons on the small table near the kitchenette. The president made it clear that there were to be no acts of bravado. That they would surrender without a shot. In Hayes’s opinion, if the terrorists got the door open, there was no sense in further bloodshed. At that point the battle would be over.
Warch had tried only once to change President Hayes’s mind, but it was to no avail. Hayes was steadfast in his decision that there would be no more bloodshed. As Warch stood by the vault door, Hayes came over. The president placed his hand on the door.
“It’s getting warmer.”
“Yep,” answered Warch.
“Any bright ideas?”
“Nope.”
Hayes gestured for Warch to follow him. They walked over to the couches and sat, Warch on the love seat, and Hayes on the couch.
Hayes looked at Warch and said, “Jack, stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing else we can do.”
