by Vince Flynn
“You are too sure of yourself, Mr. Stansfield.” Aziz spoke in a low ominous tone. “Things are not always as they appear. We will talk again this evening, and by then you had better know where Fara Harut is.”
With that the line went dead. Stansfield set the phone back in its cradle-and looked up at the two generals. General Flood asked, “What in the hell was that all about?”
Stansfield glanced up at Kennedy as she walked across the large office. “He knows Harut is gone and thinks we have him.”
“I got that part of it. What was the rest of it about?”
“He said if I didn’t tell him right away where Harut was, he would kill a hostage.”
“And that’s when you decided to play chicken with him?” asked Campbell.
Stansfield shrugged his shoulders. It was hardly the phrase he would have used to describe his method. “I took a risk. I obviously don’t want to see any of those hostages killed. All I did was give him the answer that fits his belief of who I really am.” Stansfield rubbed his forefinger under his chin. “And he blinked.”
Kennedy placed both hands on her hips and frowned. “There was more to it than that, Thomas. He didn’t just blink, he rolled over and showed you his belly, and did it way too fast. It was out of character.”
“Maybe he’s getting tired?”
Kennedy shook her head. “No, there’s something else going on. Something I haven’t told you about yet because I wanted to check on a few things before I got everybody worried.” Kennedy moved her hands from her hips and folded them across her chest. “I picked up something in Aziz’s voice. When you”—Kennedy pointed to Stansfield—“told him that he would be doing us a favor by killing himself, because when it was all over we would pull President Hayes from his bunker and so forth . . .” Kennedy made a rotating motion with her finger. “When you were finished, the first thing he said in response was, ‘You are too sure of yourself, Mr. Stansfield. Things are not always as they appear.’ Did you notice the tone in his voice?” Kennedy looked at her boss hard and gave him a second to recall what Aziz’s words had sounded like.
She continued, “He sounded like he knew something that we didn’t.” Stansfield looked at her as if she was reading a little too far into things, and she responded, “Let me fill you in on some other information first, and then it might make more sense.” Stepping toward her boss, Kennedy looked up at the generals and said, “That phone call I received from Colonel Fine this morning was in regard to three names he was checking for me. Three names we got from Harut. One of the names had three matches. The first was an officer in the Jordanian Army, and he’s already been ruled out. The second, and we thought the most likely, was an eighteen-year-old Palestinian kid with suspected ties to Hamas. And the third was a man known as the Thief of Baghdad. It turns out the third of the three Mustafa Yassins is the Iraqi who was in charge of looting all of the banks and vaults after they invaded Kuwait.”
General Flood shook his head. “It’s obviously the second one, Irene.”
“It could be,” conceded Kennedy with a nod, “but what if it’s the third one? What if Aziz brought along this Thief of Baghdad, knowing there was a good chance the president would get to his bunker? What if, at this very moment, this man is working on getting the president out of his bunker?” Kennedy stopped and looked each man in the eye, one at a time, while she gave them a chance to think about it. “What if Aziz said to Thomas, ‘You are too sure of yourself. Things are not always as they appear,’ because he knows President Hayes is not as safe as we thought?”
Everyone’s eyes got a little bigger as Kennedy finished stating her case. General Flood looked down at Stansfield and said, “I think this is something we need to bring to the attention of the vice president.”
Stansfield stared back at him blankly for a while and then said, “Not quite yet. We need a little more proof before we go to him.”
“Well, how do we get that proof?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” Stansfield replied with a nod.
34
RAPP BACKED DOWN the long cross hall of the second floor. Each step was placed carefully. Heel first and then toe. The cross hall, which was more a long room than a hallway, was brightly bathed in the late morning sunlight. Rapp and Adams, dressed in their black Nomex jumpsuits, stood out against the light-colored walls and carpet. They felt secure, though. Having been out of the stash room for over an hour, they had placed all five of the surveillance units and checked each one to make sure it was working. At no time during their sweep did they see or hear a sign of the terrorists. Even when they checked out the back staircase that led to the rooftop guard booth, there had been nothing. With the units in place, Rapp felt infinitely more comfortable, now that he had a secure base from which to operate.
How they felt back at Langley would be a different matter, entirely. Rapp had known this before he stepped out of the stash room with Adams some seventy minutes ago, but that was just tough shit. There were too many people sticking their fingers in the pie. This thing needed to be streamlined, and someone needed to take action. Sitting around and playing cautious was not in Rapp’s nature, especially where Aziz was concerned. Rapp knew whom he was dealing with, he knew what Aziz was up to, and if nobody else could figure it out, to hell with them. This was not one of those moments in life where disagreement was acceptable. This wasn’t a policy decision where it was difficult to quantify the benefits of one course over the other. This was black and white. Rapp knew what had to be done, and everyone else could kiss his ass if they weren’t on board.
As they made it back to the president’s bedroom, Adams entered first and then Rapp. Rapp stood in the doorway for a moment and took one last look to his left, straight ahead, and to his right. Behind him, on the other side of the bedroom, a stench was beginning to drift from the body of the dead terrorist. Rapp noticed it and cringed at the thought of how bad the smell would get in another day.
Adams tapped him on the shoulder and said, “I’ve gotta piss like a racehorse.”
Rapp stepped back into the room and nodded to the bathroom. Adams went in and closed the door behind him. A couple minutes later he reappeared, a look of relief on his face.
“You just wait.” Adams looked at Rapp. “You’re too young to understand, but someday you’ll know what it’s like.”
“Yeah, if I only live that long.” Rapp took the thick barrel of his silencer and pointed to the closet. “Let’s check on Anna.”
Adams went in first and pressed the hidden button. As the closet organizer swung out, Adams stepped into the stash room. Rapp poked his head in and said to Rielly, “Do you need to use the restroom?”
Rielly nodded enthusiastically.
“Follow me, and don’t make any noise.” Then looking to Adams, Rapp said, “Monitor the stairwells until we’re back, and let me know if you have any movement.”
Rielly stood and followed Rapp quietly, which was easy to do in her stocking feet. Walking into the bathroom, Rielly closed the door behind her and for the first time saw herself in the mirror. She had one hell of a shiner on her cheek, and her skin looked a little pasty. Without wasting too much time in front of the mirror, she got down to business and took care of her more immediate needs. In the middle of that task, she was struck by the bizarre thought that she was sitting on President Hayes’s toilet. The same toilet that quite a few presidents had used.
When she was done, she closed the lid. Hanging on a bar next to the sink were two sets of washcloths and hand towels. Rielly couldn’t resist. She felt disgusting and dirty. Opening the faucets, she doused her face with water and began to rub a bar of soap vigorously in her hands. After cleaning and drying her face quickly, she had another idea. Rielly soaped up one of the washcloths and wetted another and one of the hand towels. Next, she checked the medicine cabinet and grabbed the president’s shaving kit. Wrapping everything up in a larger bath towel, Rielly opened the door and found Rapp waiting for her.
Rapp
looked at the towels and asked, “What’s that all about?”
Clutching the bundle in her arms, she looked up and said, “A little sponge bath.”
Rapp pointed to himself with a big smile on his face and said, “For me.”
Rielly almost laughed, but instead shook her head. “No, for me.”
Rapp kept the smile on his face as the two of them went back into the stash room. Once inside, the door was again closed and bolted. Rapp looked at the radio and knew that he had some explaining to do. Deciding it was better to get on with it, he knelt down and powered up the unit. Milt Adams had the monitor opened on his chest and was checking the reception on each surveillance unit again.
When the unit was ready, Rapp picked up the handset and said, “Iron Man to control. Do you read? Over.” It didn’t surprise Rapp that a voice came back right away—he had expected that—it was the particular voice that surprised him.
“Iron Man, you’ve been a little busy since we last spoke.”
Rapp hesitated for a moment. “Yes, sir. I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“I concur,” said Thomas Stansfield, “but from now on, let us know what you’re up to. We are receiving clearly on both the visual and the audio. They should be a big help. Now I’ve got something rather immediate that I need you to check on. We have reason to believe that the president might not be as safe as we thought.”
Rapp’s eyes darted from the console of the field radio to Milt Adams. “Please clarify.”
“Aziz may have brought someone along who specializes in breaking into vaults.” There was a pause. “Is that clear enough?”
“I think so. How quickly would you like me to verify this?”
“As quickly as you can without risking exposure.”
Rapp sat on his heels. He thought about the location of the bunker. The third basement. The only way in or out was one staircase. The same one where an unexpected guard had been posted last night.
“Sir, let me discuss this with Milt and see what type of a plan we can put together. I’ll get back to you in five or less.” Rapp set the hard plastic handset down and looked to Adams. “Zip that thing up and get your blueprints out.”
Adams could tell by both Rapp’s expression and tone that something serious had just been discussed. After he finished zipping the monitor up, Adams pulled out his sheaf of blueprints.
Rapp scooted forward on his knees. “Excuse me, Anna.” Rielly was sitting in the corner with her legs stretched out in front of her. As Rapp moved around her, he looked at the blueprints and said, “Show me the entire third level and all ways in or out.”
Adams reached to the bottom of the stack and pulled out the last sheet. Then grabbing it with both hands, he laid it down on top. “This is it. There’s only one stairwell in and out. The one that we used.” Looking up from the blueprint, Adams asked, “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I might be able to help a little more.”
Rielly appeared on her knees at Rapp’s side. She looked down at the blueprint and asked, “What’s that?”
Rapp felt a tinge of anxiety. Another nuisance to deal with. Why couldn’t things be simple for once? Rapp cocked his head to the side and looked at Rielly, who was studying the blueprint in earnest. It was time to take this obstacle off the table. There were going to be too many variables coming down the homestretch, and he needed to keep the process as simple as possible. The more he had to think about, the better the odds were that he’d screw up. And screwing up on this one meant that someone would die. Most probably himself. There was one thing that would free them up a bit. Rapp had thought about it earlier in the day and decided if Rielly would go along with the idea, it would make things easier from a logistical standpoint.
“Anna, we need to talk.”
Rielly looked up at him from the blueprint. “What about?”
“I need to be able to speak freely with Milt, and I can’t do that with you sitting here. So you have to promise me that you will do something when we get out of here.”
“Sure.”
“I am going to need you to sign a national security nondisclosure agreement.”
Rielly moved back a little bit. She was familiar with the document, and the thought of signing such a thing was ludicrous. She was a reporter, for Christ’s sake. She would be bound by law never to discuss the matters outlined in the document, and that most probably meant never being able to tell her story. Her head slowly started to move from side to side.
“I don’t think so. I don’t like the idea of the government holding something like that over my head. I’m a reporter. It wouldn’t be right.”
Rapp got a little angry. It showed in the way his eyes squinted just a millimeter or two. At that moment he looked at Rielly, and all he saw was a beautiful, selfish, self-centered woman. He didn’t have the time or patience for this. “Fine,” he pronounced in a tone that was anything but. “I’ll have to remember that our careers are our number one priority. In fact, I probably should have kept that in mind last night.” Rapp turned away from Rielly and grabbed the radio handset. “Iron Man to control. Over.”
“What was that supposed to mean?” asked Rielly in a wounded voice.
Rapp put his hand up to quiet her and spoke into the handset. “We are going to go investigate right now. This will only be a light recon. I repeat, a light recon. If we meet any resistance, we will abort and try to find another way to verify. Over.” Rapp nodded several times and said, “Correct.”
After placing the handset back in its cradle, Rapp looked at Adams and said, “Come on, Milt. We’ll finish the rest of this conversation in the elevator.” Rapp grabbed his submachine gun and rose to one knee.
Rielly reached out for his arm. “Hold on a minute. What’s with the attitude all of the sudden?”
“The attitude.” Rapp pulled away and stood. “Last night when that piece of shit dragged you up here to rape you, I turned this radio off because I knew that the people running this show would have told me to stay put, that the mission was bigger than just one person.” Rapp stared her straight in the eye and pointed at himself. “What I did last night was not a real big career enhancer, but all I saw out there was a woman who needed help and some piece of shit that deserved to die. Cut and dry, plain and simple.” Rapp turned to Adams. “Let’s go.”
Rielly was shocked by the extreme change in his manner. She attempted to speak, but Rapp cut her off.
“Anna, I’m done talking.” With his submachine gun up and ready, he placed his free hand on the bolt and said, “If I come across any paper and pens, I’ll grab them so you can start working on your tell-all story.” With that parting shot, Rapp slid back the bolt and slipped into the walk-in closet.
35
THEY STEPPED INTO the small elevator without talking. Adams shut the door and pressed the button. Rapp stood rigidly against the wall, his head slowly thumping backward into the wood paneling. He was more pissed than he ought to be, he thought. This was a childish romantic crush, a fleeting hope for something he hadn’t felt in so long. It was stupid. With all of the shit that was going on around him, with all of the high stakes, it was a complete waste of time and energy to allow himself to be distracted for even a second by something so utterly juvenile.
Somewhere in Rapp’s brain a red stamp crashed down on Anna Rielly’s file, and she was banished to a part of his memory that was rarely accessed. It was as simple as that. Compartmentalize and move on.
With her out of his mind, Rapp looked at Adams. Adams looked back with a prying expression.
“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 nonissue, Milt. We have more important things to worry about.”
“Are you gonna let me in on the secret?”<
br />
“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-hundredplusyear-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 lefthand 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.”