“This could be good.” Frantically, she began typing. King watched her for about half a minute, and then Dunn closed her laptop. She packed it and her phone in her bag and said, “I’ve got to get this in before we go to press.”
Dunn stood. She was wearing a tight blue skirt that hugged her thin frame. Leaning over the table, she grabbed King by the jaw with one hand and said, “You and I aren’t done. If you keep this up, you just might wear me down.” Dunn pulled King’s lips to hers and gently ran the tip of her tongue along his upper lip.
She let her tongue hang there just long enough to leave him wanting more and then turned and left.
JACK WARCH STOOD by the bunker door and touched the smooth surface with the palm of his hand. It had been several hours since he had done so, and as far as he could tell the door was getting warmer. He took that as a bad sign. Warch had been beating his brains out all day over what to do if the terrorists got the door open before the Hostage Rescue Team intervened. He assumed from the explosions he had heard during the initial assaults that they had grenades. That would make it a short fight. He could put the president in the small bathroom on the other side of the bunker and buy maybe another five minutes. That would result in more dead agents and ultimately a dead or captured president.
Warch plopped down on his bunk. As he exhaled a deep sigh, he saw the president coming over. Warch straightened up a bit and started to stand.
Hayes gestured to him with a patting motion of his hand and said, “Don’t get up. Do you mind if I sit?”
“Please,” said Warch as he scooted over.
“You’re from Wisconsin, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought so. I saw your two boys running around on the South Lawn one Saturday morning in their Packer jerseys. I figured either you or your wife was from Wisconsin.”
Warch half laughed.
“No. My wife’s from Minnesota. She hates it when I dress them up in the Packer gear.”
“She should have thought of that before she married you.”
“That’s what I tell her.” Warch smiled.
“What part of wisconsin are you from?”
“Appleton.”
“Ah, the home of Rocky Blier.”
“Yep”
“I met him once,” pronounced Hayes with satisfaction.
“What a great man…” With a nod of his chin he added, “What a great story.”
“Yeah, he overcame a lot. The best part about him, though, is he never let any of the success go to his head. He does a ton for the local community.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
Hayes looked down at the floor for a while. The idle conversation seemed to be over. Sitting on the edge of the bunk, he rested his elbows on his knees and continued to study the ugly brown carpeting. After a moment he leaned back and glanced over at Warch.
“Jack, I’m sorry about all of this. I appreciate everything you and your people have done for me and my family.” Hayes stopped and looked away.
Warch waited and then said, “Thank you, sir.”
After several awkward moments of silence Hayes looked at his watch. It was almost midnight.
“Well, another six hours, or so, and we’ll know if they’re coming to save us.”
Warch nodded.
“So, you think they’ll come tonight?”
Hayes leaned back.
“Well, if I know General Flood and Director Stansfield, they’ll be pushing hard for it.” Hayes’s mind seemed to drift, and slowly he started to shake his head.
“What is it, sir?”
“I’m not so sure about the vice president.”
“How do you mean, sir?”
The president eyeballed Warch.
“Jack, I trust that whatever I say to you will go no further.”
“That goes without saying, sir.”
“I thought so.” Hayes looked out across the bunker. Out of the side of his mouth he said, “I don’t exactly trust Baxter.” Hayes continued, “He wasn’t my first choice… hell, he wasn’t even in my top ten. The truth is the party stuck me with him.
They said he could deliver California and the big Hollywood money. You need both to win the race, so he was the man.
Experience and character were never factored in.” Frowning, Hayes said, “I knew a week after the convention that he was the wrong man, but by then there was no turning back.”
“Is that why you’ve isolated him?”
The comment surprised Hayes a bit.
“You’ve noticed?”
“This is my fourth administration, sir. We’re taught to keep our mouths shut, but that doesn’t mean we don’t see and hear everything that goes on.”
All Hayes could do was nod.
“Well, Baxters the big wild card. He and Tutwiler.” Hayes shook his head again.
“I didn’t want to have anything to do with her either, but it was all part of the deal.”
“What about Director Roach? He’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is.” Hayes nodded.
“He’s one of the best, but unfortunately he answers to Tutwiler.”
Warch looked over at the door and then back to his boss.
“Sir, if HRT doesn’t get here in time, we need to take some precautions.”
“Such as?”
Warch was short on details as he related what he thought would happen.
He felt there was no sense in alarming the president over something that was out of their control. Hayes listened intently as Warch laid out his limited plan.
ANNA RJELLY WAS sleeping fitfully when she was stirred by something.
Just as she opened her eyes, she felt a pair of hands grab her by the shoulders. A second later she was on her feet, face-to-face with the terrorist who had pulled her out of line. Rielly immediately began to lash out with her arms.
The terrorist grabbed her by the throat with his right hand and squeezed tightly. The young journalist continued to flail as her eyes bulged wider as the air was squeezed from her. White spots began to dot her vision, and in one last, violent attempt to break free Rielly rammed her knee up into her assailant’s groin. The blow would have sent most men to their knees, but Abu Hasan was no normal man. Instead of buckling over, he grunted and took a half step back. Then his right hand shot forward and caught Rielly square on the jaw. She spun like a top and went straight to the floor.
The room was completely silent for the next five seconds.
None of the hostages made a noise, and the other terrorists looked on to see what would happen next. Finally, Hasan bent over and let out a deep groan. This elicited a chorus of laughs and chuckles from the other three Arabs standing guard. Several of the women crawled from their spots to help Rielly, but before they could reach her, the terrorist stood partially upright and shouted a warning to them.
Still smarting from the knee to his groin, Abu Hasan lumbered forward, bent at the waist like an ape. Reaching down, he grabbed the unconscious Rielly and threw her over his shoulder. As he moved toward the door,
