AT ONE THOUSAND feet Mick Reavers pulled the rip cord on his parachute, and his rapid descent stopped. Looking up, he checked to make sure his double canopy had unfurled itself properly, then maneuvered himself into position for the short glide onto the roof of the White House. Reavers didn't bother to look to see if his team members were in position above him.
His job was to stay on line so the others could follow.
Harris had also opened his chute as close to one thousand feet as possible. After he got himself sorted out, he did a quick count of the airfoils beneath him and moved in to line up behind Rostein. At the same time he looked over at the tall steeple of the Old Post Office and said,
"Slick, this is Whiskey Four. Do you copy? Over."
"I copy. Whiskey Four."
"We're getting close."
"Just give me the bingo." Harris floated down looking beyond his men at the street and traffic lights. Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind, and then a raindrop touched his cheek. Looking back to the east, he could see a wall of driving rain marching toward him The heavy stuff looked to be less than a mile away. Harris looked down and tried to judge how close Reavers was to touchdown. Harris checked his altimeter and then looked back to the lead chute.
He waited patiently, watching Reavers glide in from the darkness toward the roof of the White House.
Harris waited to the last possible moment and said, "Bingo, Slick. I repeat. Bingo!"
Wicker heard the call and began a slow, even exhale. He had already lowered his heart rate to fewer than forty beats a minute and was completely at ease. The terrorist was offering him a full-profile shot, and Wicker held the center of the crosshairs just above the man's ear.
With a steady constant pressure, he began to squeeze the trigger, and with a loud report the bullet was away.
The recoil from the massive rifle jolted Wicker back several inches.
Another round was chambered, and as he maneuvered his scope in an attempt to reacquire the target, he heard Berg's massive fifty launch its round at the target. Wicker brought his scope back in on the guard booth a second later, but there was nothing to shoot. The only thing in sight was a large hole in the bulletproof glass the size of a fist.
Reavers came in hot. He had felt the wind picking up and had adjusted accordingly, allowing himself to drop like a rock for thirty feet, and then at the last second, he pulled down on the risers and filled his chute with air. When his feet hit the roof, he opened the vents and got enough slack in his canopy to collapse one side of it. Clutching at his shoulder hooks, he pulled them from the main harness and wrestled the chute to the ground. Reavers bundled the chute quickly, threw it out of the way, all the while running for the guard booth. On the way, he reached for his machine gun and said, "Whiskey One is down and on the move."
By the time Reavers got to the guard booth, his silenced MP-10 was up and ready. As he looked inside, he saw the semi decapitated body of a terrorist lying on the floor. Reporting his findings, he said, "Tango one is out of commission." Reavers looked up for a second to see how the others were doing and then began to check the guard booth for booby traps.
Clark and Rostein came in much the same as Reavers.
There was a pattern that was developing, though, and as Reavers finished circling the guard booth, he grew alarmed.
Each man overshot the previous man's landing area by a good twenty feet.
Reavers looked up and saw his CO struggling to get down as the wind picked up. With no time to waste, Reavers began running toward the western edge of the roof.
As he did so, the rain started to fall.
Commander Harris was allowing himself to drop at a dangerous rate in an effort to get down before he overshot the landing area. With less than fifteen feet to go, he pulled on his risers as hard as he could. The chute fluffed with air, and just as the commander's feet hit the roof, a forty-mile-an-hour gust grabbed the parachute and yanked Harris toward the edge.
RAPP KNELT OUTSIDE the door to Horsepower, intently watching his monitor. Rielly knelt next to him, afraid to speak.
They had been sitting in silence for several minutes waiting when Rapp noticed her look of fear. A little bit of fear was a good thing, but too much could lead to freezing in the heat of battle, and they couldn't afford that right now.
Rapp pushed the lip mike of his headset up and leaned close to Rielly.
Whispering in her ear, he said, "Don't worry, Anna.
Everything is going to be fine." Rapp moved away and smiled. Rielly looked at him with eyes filled with dread. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "I don't want you to die. "Then she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.
Rapps heart fluttered, and he felt a feeling in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a long time. With a huge grin on his face, he pulled her close, touching his forehead to hers.
"Don't worry about me. I've been in worse situations than this. Much worse." He felt like kissing her, but held back.
"Besides, you owe me dinner."
This finally got a smile from her, and after a couple of seconds, she added, "All right. Just don't do anything stupid before I get a chance to pay you back."
Before Rapp could reply, he heard Commander Harris and Charlie Wicker talking on the headset. Rapp pulled his mike back down and pointed to the doorknob.
Rielly nervously put one hand on the knob and the other on the key. Rapp brought his silenced MP-10 up with both hands and clutched the extended stock firmly between his cheek and shoulder. With his eyes on the monitor, he kept the gun level and ready to fire. He listened to the news as the shot was taken and then the words that the first SEAL was down.
Rapp looked for the slightest sign that the terrorist was onto something. The seconds passed by, and there was nothing. It appeared they had eliminated the Tango on the roof without alerting the others.
Then came the news that the second and third SEALS were down. Rapp started to ease up just a bit.
Amazingly, everything was going off as planned.
HARRIS WAS HELPLESS as the wind filled his chute and yanked him toward the edge. Passing by one of the chimney stacks, he reached out with his left hand. This slowed him for only a second as the force of the gale peeled him away from his temporary brick mooring. Several feet off the ground, he was again airborne and headed for the edge.
"Whiskey Four is in trouble," announced Reavers as he sprinted across the narrow flat section of the roof. Pumping his legs as fast as they would move, he saw his CO slow for a second and then start moving.
Reavers gained on him, and when he thought he had a chance, he dropped his weapon clear and leapt, both hands extended.
Reavers caught Harris's right boot, and they came to a skidding halt.
Only half of Harris's upper body was on the roof. The other half was dangling over the edge, the parachute fully inflated by the driving storm continuing to tug him from Reavers's grip.
With Reavers preventing him from floating away, Harris got enough play in one of the main straps to undo the clasp and let it go. The chute instantly flattened and began snapping in the wind With the tension reduced, the other clasp was free and released in seconds. The parachute then floated away for about fifty feet until it hit the southeast corner of the West Wing. There it came to rest flapping in the wind, hugging the building.
RAPP HONESTLY THOUGHT they were about to pull off the infiltration without a hitch. And then he heard the call that Whiskey Four was in trouble. His ears perked up, and his eyes intently watched the small monitor at his feet. The terrorist on the screen was sitting with his back to the door. Rapp could see the Tango's AK-74 leaning against the table within arm's reach.
After several tense seconds it came over the radio that Whiskey Four was okay and that the team was proceeding into the mansion. Rapp eased a bit, and then he saw the Tango come forward in his chair. Rapp's body shifted forward as he continued to watch the small screen at his feet.
The Tango had seen something on one of the monitors, but Rapp couldn't see what it was. When the terrorist's left hand reached out, Rapp noticed what looked like a radio sitting on the console.
"Go!" The word came from his mouth without any thought or pause.
Rielly turned the key, twisted the knob, and shoved the door open. Rapp was moving through the opening instantly, his silenced MP-10 hugged tight, and his left eye boring down the sights. The terrorist's head was framed perfectly. The radio was coming to his mouth. He had already got the name Rafique out and was just starting to say something else.
Rapp squeezed the trigger once and held it for a second.
Two rounds spit from the end of the silencer and hit the Tango directly in the back of the head. The hollow-point Glaser rounds breached the skull and released a total of six hundred sixty lethal miniature projectiles. The terrorist was propelled forward, his head landing on the console and his radio dropping to the floor.
Rapp moved quickly for the terrorist's radio, saying over his lip mike, "I need help. Get the Whiskey Team over here on the double."
Keeping his gun trained on the open door that led out into the hallway, he grabbed the radio and brought it up to his ear. The voice he heard on the other end caused Rapp's skin to crawl. It was Aziz.
Rapp had to think fast. Speaking into his own headset first, he said,
"Control, we may have to go with jamming. Be ready to do so on my command." Rapp thought about how to play it. Afterjust a second or two he brought the radio to his mouth and hoped his clipped Farsi accent would work.
"Everything's all right. It was nothing."
There was silence for a moment, and then Aziz asked, "Who is this?"
Rapp hesitated for only a second. Into his lip mike, he said, "Control, jam everything! I repeat, everything!" AZIZ LOOKED AT the door to the presidents bunker and then at the electronic device in his hand. He spoke into his radio for a third time and then held it to his ear.
Nothing came back. Without having to be asked, Bengazi tried his radio.
The result was the same. Aziz calmly checked the digital pager clipped to his hip and then looked at Bengazi.
"Take Ragib, check the stairwell, and try to reestablish radio contact."
Aziz then turned to yassin, who was sticking a long spikelike object through one of the holes he had drilled.
"Keep working," he told the plump little man.
Aziz walked down the hallway, following his men, and when they reached the stairwell, he waited for them at the bottom.
As Bengazi and Ragib disappeared into the stairwell, Aziz tried his radio again. It still didn't work. Now he began to get nervous. If the radios failed, that was one thing, but if the Americans were jamming them and they covered the frequencies of his digital pagers, that would be something entirely different.
The countdown would begin on the bombs, and if the Americans did not stop jamming the signal, there was nothing he could do to stop them from going off. He had only several options, and he didn't have a lot of time to think them through.
RAPP STOOD NEXT to the main doorway of Horsepower looking down the hall, waiting for a Tango to come around the corner any second. Rielly had ventured into the room and was staring at the dead terrorist. Rapp brought his hand up and motioned for her to get behind him.
She didn't see his gesture, and Rapp said, "Anna, get over here, and stay behind me." Rapp looked back down the hall again and said, "Whiskey Four, where in the hell are you?"
"We're in the tunnel. We be there in a second."
"Hurry up."
Commander Harris, who was in the lead, passed a tired Milt Adams and sprinted up the stairs. He arrived in Horsepower with his weapon up and sweeping the room.
Rapp heard him enter and turned.
"We need to take these guys out quick before they figure out what's going on."
"What about the bombs?" The other three black-clad SEALS entered the room.
"We pray they don't go off while we're shooting, and we worry about them later."
"Slow down a minute." General Campbell's voice came over their radios.
"We need to make sure we know what we're doing first."
"We've got one Tango upstairs watching a half a dozen hostages or more."
Rapp spoke rapidly.
"We're blind in the mess, but we know there's at least three Tangos watching over the hostages. There's nothing else to discuss. These guys are going to get real antsy if they don't start hearing something on their radios. We need to move now."
"I agree." Harris backed up Rapp.
"What's the Tango in the Roosevelt Room doing?" asked Rapp.
"Nothing. He's just sitting in his chair, but Aziz and several others are on the move."
"Where's Delta?"
"They're on their way in." Rapp looked at Harris. "The mess is down the hall, first left and then first right. Take your team and clear the room. I'll go upstairs and take care of the loner."
"Why don't I give you Mick?"
Rapp shook his head.
"Thanks, but I don't need him. I've got video on what he's doing.
"You're flying blind.
"You need the extra man more than I do." Rapp started to move for the other door. He grabbed Riellys hand and said to Harris and the boys,
"Good luck. I'll see you in about twenty seconds."
When Rapp reached the back steps. Milt Adams was slowly climbing the staircase from the tunnel. He looked exhausted. Turning to Rielly, Rapp said, "Wait here with Milt."
Then on the way up the stairs to the Oval Office, he remembered all of the bombs. Into his lip mike he said, "Control, you'd better start thinking of a way to get us out of here."
BACK AT LANGLEY, Kennedy was already on the job.
Things were moving along at a frantic pace. General Campbells Joint Special Operations Command staff was busy monitoring every aspect of the mission and telling the general only the things he needed to be most concerned about. Fortunately, everyone in the room had received enough training and, in some cases, real-life experience that they knew to keep their mouths shut unless what they had to say was imperative. During a frenetic operation like this, it was easy to swamp the lines of communications.
Kennedy tapped Campbell on the arm.
"I'll handle Iron Man. You worry about the Whiskey Team."
Campbell nodded his consent. Colonel Gray, the commander of Delta Force, was to his right and overseeing the actions of his Alpha and Bravo Teams. The Alpha Team was on the move and about to be inserted onto the roof. The Bravo Team had left its cover under the Arlington Bridge and was on its way in. General Flood and Director Stansfield sat in the back row and watched. They were both very careful not to interrupt.
Kennedy looked at the three monitors on the big board that most concerned Rapp.
"Iron Man, you are all clear. There is no movement in the hallway, and the Tango is sitting with his gun resting on his lap." Kennedy squinted at the screen.
"There's a chance he could be sleeping."
"ROGER THAT." Rapp climbed the steep concrete staircase that led to the Oval Office. When he reached the top, he pressed the latch and pulled the wall in toward him. He checked to his left first and then moved through the dining room and into the pantry. There he stopped and looked out at the door across the hallway.
"Whiskey Four, are you in position? Over."
Harris and his three SEALS were crouched against the wall just outside the White House mess. Having gone through this drill together countless times, they fell into their slots. Reavers was number one, followed by dark, Rostein, and finally Harris—the same way they had jumped out of the plane.
"We're ready to go on your command, Iron Man." Before moving, Rapp asked, "How does my Tango look, control?"
"No change in status," replied Kennedy.
"Roger that. All right. Harry, let's bag 'em on three. One…" Rapp moved across the hall.
"Two…" He placed his right hand on the doorknob.
"Three!" Rapp threw the door open and stayed in his crouch. The Tango looked up, and as he did so, the thick black suppressor of Rapp's submachine gun coughed twice.
Downstairs Mick Reavers raced into the White House mess in a crouch and peeled to his left, sweeping his area for targets. A split second into the room-clearing maneuver, he found one. The Tango was standing with his weapon cradled across his chest. Reavers placed two rounds directly in the center of the man's forehead and sent him to the ground The next three SEALS came in right on top of Reavers, each man peeling away and searching their area. Tony Clark, the number two man in the train, found his target thirty feet away and directly across the room The Tango was bringing his gun up to fire, but it never happened. Two bullets hit him right between the eyes and sent him back over a chair. As Jordan Rostein entered the room, he peeled farther to the right and came up blank. He fought the urge to sweep farther to his right and went back over his area again. Harris was right on his heels and pivoted ninety degrees to cover the area all the way to the right. No more than eight feet away, the snubbed muzzle of a shortened AK-74 was being brought to bear.
Harris was quicker and sent two rounds into the man's face.
Reavers called clear, and he was followed in quick succession by the other team members. They heard Rapp's call over their radios, and then several of the hostages began to cry out for help. The SEALS ignored them and kept their weapons up as they searched the mass of hostages for any Tangos that might be using them for cover. Harris ordered dark and Rostein to watch the hostages, and then he and Reavers moved out to secure the other areas of the room.