AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rapp clutched the phone. “What are my rules of engagement?”
“I would prefer it if you did it as quietly as possible, but use whatever force you see fit. Just make sure you get the president back on line.”
The magic words reverberated through Rapp’s mind. He was free to do as he saw fit. Now he could really get things done. Almost as quickly as he had begun to celebrate, he saw that something didn’t fit. “Does anyone else know about this?”
“Just you and me.”
Rapp closed his eyes. This was unusual. “What about Irene?”
“No. Just the two of us.”
“So I’ll be operating without a net for a while.”
“I’m afraid so.” Stansfield wasn’t pleased with this, but there was no other way.
Rapp nodded while he thought about his lack of backup. Fuck it, he said to himself. You’re used to working alone.
Into the thin receiver Rapp said, “I’ll take care of it, sir, but make sure the cavalry is ready. Things could get real ugly in here.”
“I will, Mitchell, and please be careful.”
“Always.” Rapp replaced the receiver and looked up at Adams.
Some weird shit must be happening on the other side, he thought. Ticking through the possibilities of what might have precipitated Stansfield’s unusual call, Rapp stopped a short while down the list. No sense in clouding the mind. He had enough to worry about right here.
Pointing at the blueprints, Rapp said, “We have to find a way to check this out.”
39
BARELY A HALF hour had passed since Stansfield’s edict. Rapp had to remind himself continually to be more cautious as he and Adams searched the blueprints for a way to accomplish the task. Rielly had edged her way over from her nest in the corner and now lay on her stomach, her hands under her chin. Every once in a while her white stockinged feet would kick up in the air behind her like a little teenager’s. She was playing it smart for the moment, saying nothing and listening to everything. She had worked her way back into the group.
On at least three occasions Rapp had run through the different options, none of them all that appealing, and now resigned himself to take the direct route—the route that would most quickly accomplish his task but also endanger the lives of the remaining hostages. Feeling as if he’d been pent up in a cage since he’d landed at Andrews two days ago, it was difficult for him to resist the desire simply to go down to the basement, shoot the guard, shoot this Yassin fellow, and disable the scrambler. If he couldn’t find another way, it might be the only solution, but there had to be another way, or the whole thing would end in a bloodbath.
Rapp
was beginning to resign himself to what he had known when the whole mess had started. Take Aziz, enough Semtex to blow up the whole building twice, and you end up with a bunch of dead hostages. Why even risk the assault team? Just let the idiot blow himself up and end the thing.
Milt Adams flipped several sheets over and studied something. Rapp watched him, then asked, “What?”
Adams looked at the drawing and then up at the blank wall. He was trying to visualize something. Looking back down, he said, “This is the hallway on the third level. It runs down like this and takes a ninety-degree turn to the left.” Adams tapped the spot with his thin finger. “There is a recessed vent here . . . at least, I think there is.”
“What do you mean you ‘think.’ Isn’t it marked?”
Adams shook his head. “No. That’s why I’m saying I ‘think’ there is.” Adams closed his eyes again, forcing himself to try to remember what the hallway looked like. “I really think there’s a vent there.” Adams tapped the spot again.
“Why isn’t it marked?”
“These aren’t the final blueprints. If I remember right, they were worried that there would be too much moisture in the hallway if they didn’t have some ventilation. You see, this entire hall was added when they put the bunker in, and the bunker’s environmental systems are buried underneath it so they can’t be compromised.” Adams brought his finger up and ran it along his bottom lip. “I’m pretty sure they spliced into the house’s regular system through the floor right above.” Adams pulled one of the sheets back over. It was the layout of the second basement.
He searched for the right spot and said, “This is where they would have done it. They would have just cut in a down chute and brought it in from the second basement.” Adams grabbed the next sheet, showing the first basement, and pulled it over. His eyes darted excitedly back and forth over the drawing. “This could be perfect.”
“What?” asked an impatient Rapp, wishing Adams would explain what good a little vent could do.
Adams brought his hands up as if he were a quarterback signaling how far to go for a first down. He slid the two hands forward and placed them on the outside of Rapp’s shoulders. Then with a frown he said, “You’re too damn big.”
Frustrated, Rapp asked, “Milt, what in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m almost sure this vent is there, but it’s only eighteen inches wide. Your shoulders are all that plus a couple.”
