was one of the few people in the Bureau without an accounting or law degree. “I’m talking reality here, and I’m talking from experience. Why do you think this meeting is being held at the Pentagon?
“Mcmahon let her think about the question while they descended another flight.
“If we’re so clearly in charge, why isn’t this meeting being held at the Hoover Building or over at Justice?” Jennings slowly started to see his point and nodded as they reached the first floor. While they continued toward the Seventeenth Street exit, Mcmahon said, “While I’m at the Pentagon, I want you to get the mobile command post in order. Get the shift changes set up, and don’t take any crap from anyone.”
With his voice raised an octave, he added, “And you tell those clowns I’m in a surly mood, and that when I get back from this stupid dog-and-pony show, I’m going to be looking to blow a little steam.”
Mcmahon’s temper was well known among his fellow law-enforcement officers at the Bureau.
“No one works longer than an eight-hour shift unless I authorize it, and I don’t want people loitering around when their shifts are over. We could be here for weeks, and I don’t want burned-out people sitting at the controls.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Make sure HRT gets priority on everything. I want them in position ASAP”
THE EXPENSIVE SUIT was gone, replaced by drab green military fatigues, a holstered pistol, and a gas mask that was secured to his web belt.
Rafique Aziz sat at the head of the long table and stared at the bank of television sets located on the far wall of the Situation Room. Three of the six TVS were tuned to the major networks, and a fourth was tuned to CNN. all of them were covering the White House crisis from their studios in New “York and with live shots from across the street at Lafayette Square.
Much of aziz’s original anger at missing the president had dissipated.
With typical thoroughness, Aziz had prepared for this contingency, and if given enough time, everything could still be achieved. Now he had to at least allow himself a moment of satisfaction. He had done it. He controlled the most famous and decadent symbol of the West. He had taken his jihad, his holy war, to the heart of the enemy, and once he pried the president from his bunker, he would be able to complete his plan. No longer would America meddle in the affairs of the Arab world.
There was a knock on the door, and without turning, Aziz said, “Enter.”
The usually stoic Muammar Bengazi walked into the room with a smile on his face, an AK-74 slung over his shoulder, and a notepad in his left hand. He approached Aziz and said, “We are in complete control of the building. As you ordered, all outer walls and points of entry have been wired with explosive charges. “A gleam appeared in the terrorist’s eye.
“And as you predicted, we also have control of the Secret Service’s weapons and security system.” Bengazi stepped forward and placed his hands on the back of one of the table’s chairs.
“As ordered, I have taken their perimeter system off-line. We are using only their rooftop-mounted cameras and have disconnected the computers from their modems. They are no longer feeding their headquarters with images.”
“Good. I do not trust them. With all of their technology, who knows how they might have tried to trick us.”
Bengazi nodded in agreement.
“As you requested.” He handed Aziz the notepad that was under his left arm.
“Here is a list of all the hostages by name and position. I circled the most important ones.”
Aziz leaned back in the chair and flipped through the pages, his chin resting on his chest.
“Seventy-six total hostages.”
“That is correct.”
Aziz found what he was looking for on the third page-it was the name of the first person he would kill. He tapped the name with his finger and then asked, “How many Secret Service agents?”
“I did not include them with the seventy-six hostages. They are on the next page. Nine alive, four of whom are in need of medical attention. We also have several marines and other military types mixed in with them.”
“Do you have them separated from the others?”
Yes. They are upstairs, as you planned.”
“Bound and hooded?
“Aziz asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Of course.”
“Have any of the civilians tried to distinguish themselves as leaders?”
“None so far.”
Flipping the notebook back to the first page, Aziz said, “When the first one stands up”-he held up his forefinger-“and tries to show bravado, I want you to come and get me. I will deal with him personally. We are spread thin enough as it is. I do not want to have to worry about some cowboy giving us trouble from within.”
Bengazi nodded and suggested, “I think it might be a good idea to let the civilians go to the bathroom.”
Aziz looked at his watch. It was a reasonable request, and one that would help calm them.
“Fine, but leave the Secret Service agents and the marines to wallow in their own excrement.”
“Yes, Rafique. Do you wish to inspect the explosives?”
“No. I trust that you have done your job. Now I have to make a phone call.” Aziz pointed at the TV.
“They are getting ready to meet at their Pentagon.”
Bengazi nodded.
“If you do not need me for anything else, I have some details to attend to.”
“One more thing,” said Aziz, as he tilted his chin upward.
“How is our little thief coming along?”
“All of his equipment is in place, and he has started work.”
With a shrug, Bengazi added, “He tells me he is on schedule.”
“Good. Keep an eye on him.” Aziz lowered his chin.
“He is, after all, not one of us.”
“I told him not to go anywhere other than the bathroom unless he calls me first,” Bengazi said with a smile.
“I told him there are booby traps everywhere and I wouldn’t want him to accidentally set one off.”
With a smile, Aziz placed a flat hand on his radio and said, “If I need anything, I will call.” He watched Bengazi start for the door and said, “Muammar, relax. They will not be coming tonight. The politicians are in charge right now. They will keep the FBI at bay until we are ready.”
Bengazi nodded. “I know; you told me how things would proceed, but the time for them to attack would be now, before we get settled in. The hostages are still strong and fresh. They could give us trouble. In three days we will have them weakened and confused. If I were them, I would attack now.”
Aziz grinned at his friend.
“You have to understand how Washington works. The military will advise to move quickly and with overwhelming force, but the politicians will want to move with caution.”
“What about the FBI?”
“They will stay in the middle and take orders like they always do.
Relax, my friend, they will not be coming for a while… With a look of amusement, Aziz added, “In fact, I will probably have to provoke them into attacking.”
Bengazi raised his thick eyebrows.
“When the time is right.”
Precisely. You are wearing the special clothes I gave you?”
Bengazi shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not?” asked Aziz with a touch of anger.
“I don’t feel right abandoning the other men if it comes to that.”
“The plan will not work if everybody is in on it, Muammar.
