Aziz rounded the next corner to the left and stopped.
Holding the woman up in front of him, he brought his fist back and then punched her with a right hook. The woman spun from the blow and went to the floor like a wet noodle.
Aziz set his MP-5 down and began to tear off the green fatigues he’d been wearing for the last three days.
RAPP DID A quick search of the room and came up with nothing. One by one he pulled the canvas bags off the hostages’ heads, counting nine of them. The room reeked of urine.
“Whiskey Four, what’s your status?”
“Were golden. Three Tangos down, and all of the hostages are secured.”
Rapp looked over at the bomb by the wall. Its red light was blinking.
“We’re not out of this yet. Get your boys working on these bombs.”
Turning his attention back to the hostages, he said, “Don’t worry.
Everything is going to be fine.” He took his knife and cut the first two uniformed Secret Service officers free. Then, giving his knife to them, he told them to free the others. Rapp spoke into his headset, “Control, what’s the plan?”
Kennedy answered.
“Start moving the hostages into the tunnel. If there’s no other safe way out, we’ll off-load them by helicopter from the roof.”
“Roger that.” Rapp looked back at the hostages, who were still trying to get up.
“Can you people move?” A couple of them nodded, and Rapp said, “All right. Follow me, and don’t touch anything. Those of you that can’t move, I’ll come back and get you.”
Rapp led the first three out of the room and toward the hidden staircase.
“Control, what’s the update on Aziz?” Rapp waited but got no reply. He repeated the question as he went back to grab a couple more hostages and was stopped cold in the hallway outside the Roosevelt Room. He had heard a beep and looked down at the bomb on the wall. The red light had stopped blinking and was now green. Beneath that, two red numbers appeared.
“Shit! We’ve got big problems! These bombs are counting down! Control, did you hear me? Whiskey Four, did you hear me?” Rapp ran back into the Roosevelt Room.
“People, we have to move fast. Who needs help?” One of the remaining six raised his hand. Rapp snatched the Secret Service officer from the ground like a rag doll and threw him over his shoulder.
“Say again?” General Campbell asked.
“These bombs are counting down. Something went wrong. Get the Alpha Team back up to the roof.” Rapp headed out of the room.
“Let’s go! Everyone, follow me.” As Rapp raced across the hall and into the president’s dining room, he yelled, “Harry, move everybody into the tunnel fast. It’s our only chance.”
Rapp cut through the short hallway and started down the steep stairs.
When he reached the bottom, he handed the wounded Secret Service officer off to several other hostages and told Anna and Milt to head down into the tunnel and keep people moving. Rapp then ran into Horsepower, where he saw the first of the hostages coming his way. Rapp screamed, “Come on, people! Move! Hurry up!”
The line slowed for a second, and Rapp backed up to the door and screamed, “Get your asses moving! This whole building is wired to blow!”
The line Instantly surged forward. Rapp checked his watch. He had no idea how much time they had left, but it couldn’t be much. Harris and the other three SEALS finally appeared. Reavers was carrying a hostage in each arm. Clark, Rostein, and Harris appeared within seconds, each of them helping a hostage.
“Is anyone else left?” “No.” Harris passed Rapp and said, “Get your ass in the tunnel.” Rapp didn’t need to be told. He was right on Harris’s heels and slamming the heavy steel door closed behind him. Rapp yelled over his headset, “Milt, make sure the door on the other end is closed.”
AZIZ PEEKED AROUND the corner to see bengazi was coming. The gunfire had stopped, and he took it as a bad sign.
The Americans would have silenced weapons, and if he could not hear shots, that meant Ragib and Bengazi had been overpowered.
The Americans would be arriving shortly.
Looking at his pager, he smiled. The Americans were in for a big surprise. The pager had gone into countdown mode. The system was foolproof. He had designed and tested it himself.
With the laptop jammed, the pagers didn’t receive their codes.
Now they were in countdown mode, and in sixteen seconds they would start to blow.
The green fatigues were off. Underneath them Aziz had been wearing black coveralls similar to those worn by the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team. The black assault vest he wore over it had FBI printed in yellow across the back. The plan was a long shot, but in the confusion created by the bombs going off, it just might work. The Secret Service MP-5 submachine gun, the black gas mask he would put on once the explosions occurred, the coveralls-they would all help him blend in.
Aziz looked around the corner again, expecting to see members of the Hostage Rescue Team working their way down the hall. There was no one.
It was completely silent. He checked the pager one last time and pulled his gas mask down.
The first explosion was a rumble in the distance. It was followed by a quick succession of explosions, each one getting a little louder. The building began to shake, dust and plaster started to fall from the ceiling, the lights fluttered several times and then failed completely.
All of the sudden a huge blast came from the left, where the entrance to the Treasury tunnel was located. The concussion knocked Aziz to the floor, where he landed on the president’s unconscious secretary.
Aziz pushed himself up, spitting the dust from his mouth and shaking it from his hair. His hearing had been rendered useless from the explosion.
Commanding himself to get up, he stood and found the small flashlight in his assault vest. Aziz turned it on and tried to regain his sense of direction. The air was thick with dust and smoke, preventing him from seeing more than five feet in any direction.
He was pretty sure the tunnel was to his left. Grabbing the woman, he threw her over his shoulder, picked up his gun, and felt his way along the wall for the tunnel. At the next corner he went right, and several steps later he stumbled over chunks of concrete that had been knocked loose from the blast. In front of him was a mound. He started to climb into the tunnel. For a moment he was fearful the entire structure might have collapsed, but then the rubble began to dissipate.
Breathing through the gas mask was difficult. It didn’t give him oxygen; it just helped filter the dust and smoke from the air. Carrying the woman was proving to be more tiring than he had anticipated. He stopped for a moment to gather himself.
The dust started to settle, and his breathing became slightly easier.
The visibility grew better with each passing step, and it motivated him to pick up the pace.
All of the sudden he was out of the tunnel. He was immediately met by several figures wearing dark coveralls like his.
Aziz did not want to have to use the weapon unless he had to.
They were trying to talk to him as he continued forward, but they were not pointing their weapons at him. When Aziz was within several feet, he yelled through his gas mask, “Ambulance! I have to get her to an ambulance!”
One of the men grabbed him by the arm and started to jog with him up the ramp. As they stepped out from under the covered part of the Treasury garage, they were hit with the rain.
The man kept trying to talk to Aziz.
Finally, Aziz yelled, “I’m deaf from the explosions! I can’t hear a thing!”
When they reached the top of the ramp, a stream of fire trucks raced past them and onto the south grounds
