What he saw upset him instantly. Against the far wall, Mustafa was sitting on the floor, asleep in an upright position-his short arms wrapped around his potbelly and his mouth open with a stream of drool running down his chin. Aziz took three steps and forcefully kicked the man’s feet.
Mustafa’s eyes opened instantly, and Aziz shoved the muzzle of his rifle to within an inch of his face.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
Nervously, he replied, “I was taking a nap.”
“I can see that. Why aren’t the drills running?”
“They needed a rest.”
The safecracker tried to move farther away from the weapon, but there was nowhere to go.
“If I run them nonstop, they will burn out.”
Aziz moved the rifle away from the man’s face. The answer had satisfied him for the moment.
“Are you still on schedule?”
“Yes.” Mustafa rolled his plump body onto one knee and stood. “I am actually several hours ahead of schedule.”
Aziz raised an interested eyebrow.
“Really. When do you expect to have the door opened?”
Mustafa looked at his watch. “If the drills continue to work well, I think I can have the door opened around seven this evening.”
Aziz smiled.
“That would make me very happy.” Slapping the shorter man on the back, Aziz said, “You have done good work, Mustafa.”
“Thank you.” Mustafa bowed his head slightly, accepting the rare compliment.
Aziz looked over at the shiny vault door. In less than twenty-four hours he would have his hands on the president.
Mustafa’s news of being ahead of schedule helped assuage Aziz’s anger over the loss of hasan. Once he had the president, he could breathe a sigh of relief.
LEAVING THE STASH room was a tense process. The only eyes Rapp had outside the room were the sole surveillance unit he had placed in the president’s bedroom. This assured him that it was safe to exit the stash room, but Milt cautioned him that the large closet also had a door at the opposite end that led into the First Lady’s bedroom.
“All right,” Rapp whispered, and Adams opened the wall several inches.
Not moving, not breathing, Rapp peeked through the crack and listened.
Stepping into the closet, he immediately noticed that its door to the First Lady’s bedroom was open. Rapp checked to his left and his right twice and then walked toward the First Lady’s bedroom. He stood at the doorframe for a moment and listened. The room was empty.
Directly across the room was another door, which was closed. Rapp figured it was either a closet or a bathroom.
Whichever the case, it made no difference. The fact that the door he was standing in had been left open and the one across the room had been closed, however, was significant. It meant that Aziz and his men had done a sloppy job on the search.
Each door should have been opened, checked, and then closed.
Because of this inconsistency, Rapp felt confident enough to close the door to the closet. He quickly rummaged through the closet, grabbing a sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of white sweat socks. Rapp went back to the stash room door and handed the clothes to Adams.
“Give these to Anna.” Rapp looked at the shelf to his right and saw a blanket and two pillows.
“Here, take these too. Try to get her to sleep.” Rapp began to close the door and said, “And make sure you don’t bolt this thing. If I’m in a hurry to get back in, I don’t want to have to stand out here and knock.”
Adams nodded and said, “Good luck.”
Rapp closed the organizer tight and silently moved across the president’s bedroom. Three steps and he was across the entrance hall and into the bathroom. Reaching behind a light to the left of the medicine cabinet, he found the button and pressed it. The wall sprang open an inch, and with his gloved hand, Rapp pulled it open several more feet.
With the push of another button, the elevator’s doors opened, and Rapp began his near silent descent. Seconds later the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Rapp retraced his earlier steps, down the hallway and into the stairs leading to the third basement.
When he arrived at the landing door, he reached for the handle and stopped just inches short. The stairwell was darker than the hallway on the other side, and a half inch of bright light bordered the bottom of the door. Rapp had seen something.
His eyes had caught some type of motion, a variance in light.
Cautiously, Rapp backed up, wondering if the SEALS could already have arrived.
With his gun leveled, he kept his eyes trained on the patch of light.
After only seconds he saw the shadow again. Frowning, he opened up the monitor, this time not daring to holster his weapon With the monitor opened, his gun in his left hand and the snake in his right, he moved to the far side of the door handle and slowly inched the tiny lens forward along the concrete floor. Rapp’s eyes went back and forth between watching the screen and watching the progress of the snake. An inch at a time, he nudged it forward. The first thing Rapp saw on the screen was a pair of boots. As he pushed the lens forward, combat fatigues came into view and then the distinctive barrel, handgrip, and curved magazine OF AN AK-74. Rapp pulled the snake back deliberately and swore to himself.
Why was a bad guy all of the sudden down here in the basement? They had come across no one on the way in. Why now? As Rapp leaned flat against the wall, he tried to make some sense of it. After a while he decided it must have been the girl. He had to make a decision, and the sooner he made it the better. Waiting in the stairwell was not an option. There was no cover, and someone could come along at any minute. It was too big a risk. Opening the door and shooting the terrorist was an option, but one that would have to be a last resort. Rapp was left with only one real course-go back and tell Kennedy and Campbell to put the SEALS in a holding pattern until he could make sure the basement was clear.
Rapp looked down at the corner where the white concrete wall met the hinges of the door. He reached inside the cargo pocket of his pants and extracted one of the micro video and audio surveillance units. Dropping to a knee, he attached a Velcro patch to the wall and then carefully positioned the unit so the tiny fiber-optic lens would have a view under the doorway.
Rapp ascended to the second floor of the mansion quickly, taking less than two minutes to cover the distance from the third basement.
“When the small elevator reached the second level, Rapp turned on his monitor and checked the view of the president’s bedroom. All was clear on the video and the audio, so he closed the screen and stepped out onto the tile floor of the bathroom.
From there, it was across the way and into the large closet once again With the doors closed, he found the hidden latch for the wall organizer and opened the way to the stash room.
Adams and Rielly were sitting wide-eyed on the floor when Rapp entered and Adams said, “You’re back kinda quick, aren’t you?”
Rapp shook his head while he dropped to his knees in front of the secure field radio.
“Yeah, we’ve got a problem downstairs.”
“Like what?”
“We’ve got a Tango running around down in the third basement.”
“A what?”
Rapp pressed several buttons on the control panel of the radio.
“A Tango… a bad guy… a terrorist.” Rapp brought the handset up to his ear.
With a worried expression, Adams asked, “Did he see you?”
“If he saw me. Milt, he wouldn’t still be walking around.” Rapp turned his focus to the radio and said, “Iron
