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Rielly nodded, her face tense with nervousness.
“And don’t forget to flip back over on your back so you can make the turn when we’re pulling you back up.”
“All right, let’s get going before I change my mind.” Rielly rolled over onto her stomach and started squeezing into the vent. “Three tugs.” That was it, and then she wiggled her thin body into the air duct.
It was cramped and dusty. Rielly doubted that Rapp could have fit in the duct, and if he could have, there wouldn’t have been any room left for him to maneuver. It didn’t take long to reach the shaft. As Rapp had said, it was maybe ten feet. Rielly paused at the top, only her fingertips and chin hanging over the edge. There was just enough light for her to see the bottom. It wasn’t as far as she had expected. Slowly she started down. Her arms first, her head, then her whole upper body. After that the rope became tight and Rapp and Adams began to lower her. Rielly remembered what Rapp had said, and when she neared the bottom, she spun herself around so she could bend at the waist and make the turn.
She pulled herself into the lateral duct and rested for a second. The knots felt a little tight on her ankles, but were bearable. After gathering herself, she spun back onto her stomach, and that was when she heard it. A whining noise. The sound of machinery working. The sound of a drill. Rielly’s heart rate quickened. The first vent was just ahead on her right. From where she was positioned, she felt as though she could almost reach out and touch it.
With some reservation she inched forward several feet and stopped. The noise had not gone away. As slowly as she could, Rielly scooted forward an inch at a time, using all of her concentration to make sure no noise was made. The duct became brighter with the light from the hallway. As she neared the grate, she grew nervous at how well she could see her hands.
Approaching the vent, she could start to see the off-white wall of hallway. The cover had a series of vertical slats that were angled to force the air down. Rielly laid her head flat so she could try to get a look straight down the hallway and into the bunker. What she saw caused her to hold her breath. Straight ahead, just down the hall, was the shiny vault door to the president’s bunker, and attached to it were the objects that were making the noise she had been hearing. Drills of some sort. Three of them. One big and two small. Rielly moved her head around and tried to get better angles of the anteroom but could find none. On the floor there appeared to be a variety of toolboxes and some tanks. She could see only part of the room because the first door was not swung all the way open.
Rielly was finishing her inventory of what little she could see and was preparing to reach for the string around her neck when a man appeared. He came into her view from a part of the room that she could not see. Rielly’s first reaction was to move back a little out of fear that he might be able to see her. She quickly realized this was stupid and told herself to calm down. The man, who looked more like a plumber than a terrorist, approached the drills with a cup in his hand. He touched the casings of each one with his hand and then went about measuring their progress with a tape measure.
Oh, this was going to be one hell of a story, Rielly thought to herself. She watched the man for another couple seconds and then tugged on the shoestring three times. After a slight pause she began sliding back down the vent.
JACK WARCH HAD decided on a course of action. He wanted to build a consensus among his agents first and then bring his plan to the president. He didn’t want any surprised faces if the president asked them for their opinion. Warch had taken a minute or two with each agent, and all of them had enthusiastically backed their boss’s idea.
Now came the hard part. President Hayes was sitting next to Valerie Jones on one of the couches playing a game of gin. Before walking over, Warch checked the door one more time. All indications were that they were running out of time.
Walking across the carpeting, Warch stopped just on the other side of one of the longer couches and cleared his throat. When the president looked up, he said, “Excuse me, sir. Do you have a second?”
The president looked back at the discard pile and said, “Sure.” Hayes closed his hand up and set it facedown on the table. “Excuse me, Val.” After getting up, he walked around the couches and joined Warch, who had walked over to the corner by the bathroom.
“What is it, Jack?”
“Sir, I want you to hear me out before you say anything.” Warch gave his boss a stern look that told him he was very serious. Hayes nodded, and Warch continued. “I have an idea. One that I think will work, but it’s going to take some balls on our part and a little bit of risk.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I want to start out by saying that just sitting here is not a good option. Every one of my agents is willing to sacrifice his life for you, so I want you to stop thinking about us. We volunteered for this duty and we all knew what the risks were when we signed.”
Hayes started to shake his head. “I’m not going to change my mind, Jack. There’s been enough bloodshed. When that door opens, we are going to surrender peacefully and take our chances.”
Warch snapped at the president, “Let me finish!”
Hayes backed up a half a step in surprise and nodded his consent for the special agent to continue.
Warch composed himself and started again. “We,” he said, pointing to himself, “are not what is at issue here. You are what is at issue, and not just you as a person but you as the president. In the big picture, all of our lives”—Warch pointed to the other agents in the room—“don’t add up to one president. The president must be protected at all costs. That’s my first point.” Warch held up his forefinger. “My second point is that just laying our weapons down and surrendering doesn’t guarantee us anything. Who’s to say they won’t line us up and shoot every single one of us, including you?”
The president thought about it for a moment and then said, “There are no guarantees, Jack, but I don’t see any other alternative.”
“I have one. It’s a little daring, but it’s a heck of a lot better than sitting around and waiting for them to open the door.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something they’ll never expect. We have nine highly trained agents in this room. Three of them have served on the Counter Assault Team and have extensive training in hostage situations. My proposal is”—Warch paused and took a big breath—“that instead of waiting for them to get this door open, we open it ourselves and catch them off guard.”
The president frowned.
“Hear me out, sir. We have the firepower to get you out of here, and we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.”
Hayes folded his arms across his chest and thought about it for a moment. Looking at Warch, he said, “Tell me more. If we’re going to do this, we need a game plan.”
WHEN THEY PULLED her out of the vent, her black sweat suit was covered in dust, as was a healthy portion of her ponytail. Rielly flipped over onto her back and sat up. Rapp and Adams were poised just above her, eagerly awaiting the report.
Remembering to keep her voice at a whisper, Rielly nodded her head vigorously. “They’re doing it. They’ve made it through that outer door you told me about, and they’re working on the big shiny door that leads to the bunker.”
