comrades are dead when this whole thing is over. If we have to lose forty or fifty hostages to mount your head on the wall… its a small price to pay.”
“I am not afraid to die! Even if I die, I will have won!”
“I don’t think so,” replied Stansfield in his calm analytical voice.
“You see, after you have killed yourself, we will pluck President Hayes, and quite a few others, out of the rubble, and you will have ceased to be a problem. We will rebuild the White House in six months, and everything will return to normal.”
Aziz was enraged, but he knew that Stansfield had him boxed in. For now at least, but, oh, the surprise they would be in for when their president wasn’t so safe. Now was not the time to push things; no matter how much Fara Harut meant, Aziz could not do anything to precipitate an attack by the Americans until he had the president in his hands. Aziz would have to swallow his pride and make a tactical retreat. His ego, however, was far too large to do so without taking a parting shot. “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 Azizs 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 des 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.
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 walk 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.”
