"What?" asked Rapp a touch too defensively.
Adams kept his basset-hound eyes locked on Rapp until his new partner repeated his question. Then Milt licked his upper lip once and said,
"Don't you think you were a little hard on her?"
Moving away from the wall, Rapp began to fidget in frustration.
"She's a non issue Milt. We have more important things to worry about."
"Are you gonna let me in on the secret?"
"Yep, and it's a doozy." Rapp took the MP-10 and cradled it across his chest as the small elevator reached the first basement. "It appears Aziz brought along some guy who specializes in breaking into vaults." Rapp stopped, to see if Adams could connect the dots.
It didn't take long. The expression on Adams's smooth face went from an inquisitive frown to one of surprise.
"That's not good."
"Nope." Rapp shook his head.
"Our job is to find out if Hayes is as safe as we thought."
Thinking several steps ahead, Adams plucked the folded blueprints from his vest. The series of sheets were like an unruly road map. Adams opened the documents and shuffled the right one to the top. Shooing Rapp out of the way, he held it up against the wall and said, "This is where it's located."
Rapp looked at the layout of the third basement.
"Only one way in?"
"Well, not really. Hold that side for me."
Rapp grabbed one side of the blueprint while Adams held the other with his hand.
"There's another way down to the third basement." Adams touched a spot on the blueprint.
"This is the anteroom to the vault. This little rectangle area here. It doesn't make a lot of sense from a strict design and engineering standpoint, but it's one of those things you need to implement into a design when you're trying to add things to a two hundred-plus-year-old building."
Adams touched another spot on the blueprint.
"This is the boiler room, where we came in, and this is the hall that I told you led to the bunker." Adams traced his skinny black finger down the hall, took the left-hand turn, and tapped it on a door.
"This is one of two ways into the anteroom. It's a three-inch thick steel door. Over here on this wall of the anteroom is the second door.
This is probably the one the president used to enter the bunker."
"Why do you say that?" asked Rapp.
"Because this door leads up a short staircase to a tunnel that runs all the way under the West Wing to where there's a much longer set of stairs that lead all the way up to a hidden door just off of the Oval Office."
Adams pulled another sheet from the back and showed Rapp the location of the tunnel and where it went.
"This tunnel used to be the bunker until this new one was completed just this last year. As this tunnel comes over from the West Wing, it stops here. At that point you can either go down this little flight, which empties you into the anteroom, or you can go up a flight of stairs that leads to one of those doors that don't exist."
Rapp liked where this was headed.
"Where is this fictitious door located?"
Adams changed pages again and tapped a spot.
"Right here. Just down the hall from where we are right now, in the china storage room."
"That's perfect."
"Not quite." Adams shook his head.
"These doors that lead to the anteroom are hermetically sealed with rubber gaskets. If we go down through the tunnel, we wouldn't be able to hear or see anything in the anteroom unless we open the door to it, and I doubt you want to do that."
"No." Rapp thought about the options for a second.
"Yeah, you're probably right. That means they would have had to get through one of these outer doors first to get to the bunker door."
"Yep, and this is the door they would have gone through."
Adams changed back to the drawing that showed the layout of the third basement.
"This way they only go through one door.
If they tried to come in through the tunnel door, that's assuming they could find it to begin with, they would have had to go through an extra door."
"That makes sense." Rapp looked at the drawing.
"So we have to go down the stairs we used when we came in and hope that a guard isn't posted like he was last night."
"I'm afraid so."
"Okay." Rapp took his hand off the blueprints.
"Put those things away, and let's get ready to move out. You know the routine."
After he was done putting the blueprints back in order, Adams folded them up and stuffed them inside his black vest.
Then, unzipping and turning on the monitor, he pressed the button to open the elevator door. Rapp stood over his shoulder while Adams stuck the tip of the snake under the outer metal door leading to the first basement. The tiny lens gave them a slightly warped view of the hallway looking up from the stark concrete floor. Adams maneuvered the lens all the way to the right and then back to the left.
"Looks good," proclaimed Rapp as he stepped back and readied his gun.
Adams pulled the snake back with his right hand and coiled it against his hip.
Rapp took the doorknob in his right hand, pulled, and scooted quickly into the hallway. He brought his MP-10 up and swept to the right and left. Adams was just two steps behind, having had to pause for just a second to shut the outer door to the elevator. In less than three seconds Rapp was at the door that led to the two lower floors. A twist of the metal knob with his gloved right hand and he was through the door, his thick black silencer moving everywhere his eyes went.
Whether he had one hand on the weapon or two, it made no difference. At this close distances, one-handed, he could hit a head-size target with about ninety-five percent accuracy on the first shot. With both hands on the efficient and compact Heckler & Koch, it was a guaranteed one hundred percent. After checking the stairwell above, Rapp began his controlled descent, keeping his body pressed against the wall, always looking down and checking each new stair as it came into view. Adams followed quietly, several steps behind. Rapp was gaining confidence in him.
When they hit the landing in between the second and third basements, Rapp stopped. The tiny surveillance unit he had placed next to the door was barely discernible. If he hadn't known it was there, he doubted he would have seen it. Stopping for even five seconds, out in the open like this, seemed like an eternity, but Rapp was trying to get a feel as to whether someone was on the other side of the door.
He went down the last four steps and stopped, his eyes fixed on the half-inch sliver of light that framed the base of the metal fire door.
For another long five seconds, Rapp crouched and stared. Still nothing.
Rapp waved Adams down. The older man descended the last flight cautiously, holding on to the monitor as if it were the head of a baby.
Stepping back and holding his submachine gun ready, Rapp directed Adams to slide the tip of the snake under the door.
As Adams moved the device to the left, a pair of boots came into view.
They were walking toward the door. Rapp reached out and pulled Adams's hand back, keeping his gun trained on the door. After waiting several seconds for the boots to pass, Adams and Rapp retreated in silence.
"BROODING" MIGHT HAVE been the right word, at least at first. But that smug emotion was gone now, replaced by one of self-loathing and personal disgust. Disgust, she told herself.
Not disappointment or disrespect, it was disgust. Mr. Secret Agent Man's parting slam had stung, and Anna Rielly's first response had been to fold her arms tightly across her chest and ask herself just who that gun-toting ass thought he was. Where in the hell did he get off judging her so quickly? He didn't know who she was. He was just another one of those arrogant white males, like so many of her dad's cop friends, who thought they were the only ones that knew what life was all about. They had no idea how important it was to have a truly free press. Just who in the hell did he think he was? The voice in the back of her head responded. He's the man who risked his life to save yours.
At that point, Riellys mood turned from brooding to selfloathing, and now she sat feeling not so hot about herself.
THE ELEVATOR STOPPED at the second floor, and without having to be told, Adams was already working the monitor to check the different surveillance units. For his part, Rapp was trying to figure out their next step beyond calling Langley.
There had to be a way to check on the president. When they got back in the stash room, he would get Adams to spread out his blueprints and see if there were any other options. But that meant Rielly, and that wouldn't work. She already knew too much as it was, and things were only going to get worse.
Adams finished checking the surveillance units and told Rapp the coast was clear. Rapp nodded, and after a couple seconds, he said, "When we get back to the stash room, I'm going to need you to step outside with Anna for a couple of minutes while I talk to Langley."
The twisted expression on Adams's face gave Rapp the impression he wasn't too fond of the idea.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't like the idea of sitting outside of the room with her and my little six-shooter." The horizontal lines on Adams's shiny black forehead deepened.
"I think you're overreacting."
Adams saw an instantaneous change in Rapp's demeanor. The lid on the kettle started to wobble. In earnest, Adams added, "Just a bit… I mean, I understand your need for secrecy and everything, but—" Rapp cut him off.
"She's a reporter, end of discussion, let's go." Rapp jerked his thumb toward the door.
It was obvious Rapp wasn't going to budge, so Adams zipped up the monitor and opened the door. Rapp stepped onto the white tile floor first, and Adams closed the door behind them. Another quick trip across the hall and they were back in the large walk-in closet.
Rapp pointed at the ground.
"You stay here. Use the monitor to make sure no one is coming. I'll leave the door unlocked. At the first sign of trouble, come back in the room."
Rapp didn't give Adams a chance to ask any questions.
Turning immediately, he opened the organizer and stepped into the stash room. Rielly was sitting in the corner right where they had left her.
Rapp looked down at Anna Rielly and wished she weren't there. Wished he could just erase her from his mind.
"You're back awfully quick," was the only thing Rielly could think of.
Ignoring her words, he stuck his hand out. Rielly grabbed it, and Rapp pulled her to her feet. He maneuvered her toward the open door and ignored her question. Pushing her out into the closet, Rapp pulled the organizer shut with a slight click.
He dropped to one knee, grabbed the handset to the field radio, and said, "Iron Man to control. Over."
A female voice answered and told Rapp to hold. Less than ten seconds later Thomas Stansfield's smooth voice came over the thin plastic receiver.
"What did you find out?"
"I came up dry on the first run, sir. There was a Tango in the hallway.
We couldn't proceed past the stairwell."
"What level was the Tango on?"
This time it was General Campbell's voice.
"Third basement." Rapp rubbed his brow with his right hand.
"He was positioned just outside the doors for the stairwell and the boiler room." There was a pause, and Rapp imagined a gaggle of military aides shuffling blueprints around and showing the general the exact location.
"Any thoughts on why he would be there?" It was Stansfield again.
Rapp finished kneading the skin on his brow.
"Off the top of my head, I can think of two. First, the guy is down there to make sure no one comes through the shaft again, or second, he's down there to make sure no one interrupts the progress of thisyassin, or whatever his name is."
There was the exhaling sigh of thought and then the words, "I would concur. Do you or Milt have any ideas on how we might circumvent this guard?"
"Maybe." Rapp began rubbing his forehead again.
"Give me about ten minutes, and I'll call you back."
Rapp set the handset back in the cradle. Now it was time to grab Milt and figure out a way to verify whether or not the president was safe.
What to do with the reporter?
Standing, he popped open the door and pushed it outward. Adams and Rielly were standing in the dimly lit closet talking quietly . Rapp motioned for Adams to join him and then said to Rielly, "You're going to have to stay out here while we talk."
Adams stepped forward, grabbing Rielly's arm and bringing her with him.
"She's got something to say to you."
Rapp stood in the opening, reluctant to move, looking at Adams and wondering what in the hell he had said. Looking to Rielly, he saw that her feisty attitude was gone. After a long moment, Rapp retreated a step and allowed the two of them to enter the stash room.
SEALS DON'T LIKE to sit around, especially when there's action to be had, and even more so when one of their own has been killed. Lt.
Commander Harris wanted a piece of that action, and although he would never admit it to the brass, he wanted to put a bullet in the head of every terrorist in the White House. No prisoners.
Now Harris was in the process of exactly that as he strode up the steps of the Old Post Office on the corner of Twelfth and Pennsylvania. He had walked the four and a half blocks from his makeshift command post on the east fence of the White House with the bullish Mick Reavers. They were still there manning the CP, despite the debacle of last night. Rapp and Adams were, after all, still in the building, and the powers that be at the Pentagon had yet to decide on a deployment if any. Harris knew that was a distinct possibility. At any minute he could get the order to pack himself and his men up. The press was asking a lot of questions concerning Aziz's statement that he had turned away an assault. If they pushed hard enough and the politicians started chirping. Six's plug would be pulled.
JSOC didn't like operating in the light, and if the current trend continued, they would most certainly pull Harris and his men away from the White House and back under cover.