Transfer of Power

IT HAD TAKEN almost no effort to convince Rielly.

Adams actually made several attempts to douse her enthusiasm, but she would have none of it. She was in. Rapp wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it out of patriotism, sympathy for the remaining hostages, or professional greed. He hoped it was one of the first two and not the latter.

The plan came together in short order. Adams was a natural problem solver with the tedious mind of an engineer.

Rapp, with his practical experience, tried to simplify every aspect of the operation, knowing that the more complicated it became the stronger the chance that it would fail. For her part, Rielly listened well and asked pointed questions when needed.

Rapp had told them, “This is simple recon. Nothing fancy, just take a look and then get out.” He then went on to brief Rielly on how they would proceed, and then before leaving the stash room, he gave her one more chance to back out. She didn’t waver for a second. With everything covered and the clock ticking, Rapp grabbed the proper gear and gave Adams the go-ahead signal.

Adams slid back the bolt, and Rapp was the first one into the closet.

Having already checked the surveillance units, they knew no one else was currently on the second or third floors.

They moved quickly and quietly across the hall and into the small elevator. Rielly was in sweat socks and made no noise. When they arrived in the first basement, the doors slid open and Adams went to work with the snake. Rapp and Adams were working well as a team, but now with Rielly as the third wheel, it was another variable to worry about.

Adams retracted the snake, and over his shoulder he whispered, “All clear.” Rapp asked, “We go to the right, halfway down the hall?”

“Yep.”

“Good,” whispered Rapp.

“Here’s the routine.” Rapp looked to Rielly, who was no more than a foot away.

“When we open this door, I step out first. I sweep to the left and then the right. When I give you two the signal to move out, you go.

Milt in the lead; you with your right hand on his right shoulder.”

Rapp was happy to see that her eyes were open wide, a sign that she was paying attention.

“You keep that hand on his shoulder and keep your eyes on the back of his head. If he speeds up, you speed up; if he slows down, you slow down; and if he crouches, you get down. If I have to start shooting, I don’t want to worry about you jumping out in front of me.”

Rielly nodded and then blinked for the first time in a while. All of a sudden she didn’t think this was such a good idea. Either it was colder down here or she was getting the chills from fright. Rapp asked her something, and she stared back at him with a blank expression.

“Are you nervous?”

Rielly nodded, eyes wide open.

“Good.” Rapp grinned.

“You should be.” He grabbed her right hand and placed it on Adams’s shoulder.

“Just follow Milt, and everything will be fine.”

Rapp cracked the door just an inch at first and looked down the hallway.

With nothing in sight, he opened the door another foot and peered in the other direction. With his MP10 leveled in his left hand, he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out into the hallway. After checking both directions again, his right hand shot up and pointed for Adams and Rielly to move out.

Adams started out on cue, his bald head scrunched down between his shoulders as if bullets might start whizzing over his cranium at any moment, the all important S-key in his right hand. Rielly mimicked his posture and scampered behind him on the balls of her stockinged feet. As soon as they were clear, Rapp closed the nondescript door that concealed the elevator and fell in behind them. Within seconds Adams had stopped at another door and was inserting his key.

He fumbled with it for a second, his hands shaking slightly.

After one misfire, he stuck the key all the way in and turned the knob.

Adams yanked the door open and was immediately pushed inside the room by Rielly, who was being pushed by Rapp.

Rapp pulled the door shut and looked around the rectangular-shaped

storage room. Rielly was doing the same and whispered,”I thought we were going to the China Room.”

“No.” Adams shook his head.

“The china storage room.”

He approached one of the many wheeled gray plastic containers that stood about four feet tall. Adams pulled off the protective cloth cover and revealed a collection of plates, saucers, and cups.

“These things are spring-loaded.” Adams picked up a china dinner plate.

“When they decide which china they want for an event, they just wheel this whole thing into the kitchen elevator and they take it upstairs.”

Rielly looked around the room.

“All of these contain sets of china?”

“Yep”

“That’s great.” Rapp was already moving several of the containers out of his way so he could get to the wall where the vent was located.

Adams joined in, and they passed the wheeled containers from one to the other. While they were doing so, Rapp looked at a second door, located on the wall to his right, and asked, “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep.” Adams nodded as he looked up for a second.

“Good. I think it’s gonna come in real handy.” Rapp moved the last container and saw the vent cover on the bottom of the wall. It looked to be about a foot and a half wide and maybe a foot tall. Rapp stepped out of the way, and Adams moved in. Dropping down to one knee, he pulled out a small cordless drill and quickly backed out both screws.

With his fingers, he pulled the slatted cover off and dropped all the way down to his stomach With a flashlight in hand, he stuck his arm in first and then half of his head. After bouncing the light off the duct work for a couple of seconds, he found what he was looking for: the down chute that led to the lower floors and eventually to the HVAC unit in the basement.

Adams pulled his head out and looked at Rapp, who was kneeling next to him.

“It’s right where I thought it was. Ten feet down this way, go straight down two floors, and she has to crawl about a dozen feet, and there’s the vent.”

“Which way does she go when she hits the third level?”

Adams jerked his thumb.

“She keeps going the same way.” Rapp looked at his watch and said, “All right. “Then turning to Rielly, he said, “Last chance to back out.”

Rielly grinned reluctantly and looked at the small opening that Adams was lying next to.

“I’m ready.”

Rapp looked at her and again wondered what her motivation was. Standing there in the president’s oversized West Point sweats, she did not fit the image of the brave and bold. Rapp thought she looked scrawny. He had to hand it to her, though; whether it was professional motivation, sense of obligation to her fellow hostages, or just good old Catholic guilt, the woman was tough. She’d had the crap kicked out of her, was almost raped, and yet here she was, willing to go right back into the fray.

Rapp nodded at her with admiration and said, “Give me a couple of minutes, and we’ll get you on your way.”

Rapp took off his fanny pack and laid out the climbing rope and one of the surveillance units.

“Is she going to have enough light in there?”

Adams thought about it for a second.

“Yeah. It spills through the vents about every ten to fifteen feet.”

“Good.” Holding the rope up, Rapp turned to Rielly and said, “Go lie down over there by the vent, and we’ll tie this around your ankles.”

Rapp cut a four-foot section from the end of the rope and tied one end to Rielly’s right ankle and the other to her left. When he was satisfied with the knots, he tied the rope to the middle of the four-foot section.

This allowed Rielly to move her legs independently, which would have been impossible if her ankles were tied together.

After asking her how the knots felt, Rapp asked, “Any questions before we get started?”

Rielly looked up from her position on the floor.

“Yeah, how in the hell do I signal for you guys to pull me back up?”

Rapp frowned.

“That’s a good question. How about if you tug three times on the rope?”

“How?” Rielly craned her neck backward and looked into the duct.

“There isn’t enough room for me to do that.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Looking to Adams, Rapp asked, “Any ideas?”

Adams thought about it for a second, his lips scrunched up.

Finally he said, “Yeah. I got one.” Adams then sat and began taking his boots off. He took out the left boo dace then the right, then tied them together. He tied one end to the long rope and the other one he loosely knotted around Rielly’s neck.

“When you want us to take you back up, tug on this three times.” Rielly nodded and Rapp said, “Good thinking. Milt.” Then looking down at Rielly, he said, “Down this way about ten feet and then straight down until you hit the bottom. Now, remember when you reach the third level, you’re going to need to turn yourself around one hundred and eighty degrees so you can bend at the waist. Then once you get back into the lateral duct, you can spin back onto your stomach.”

Rapp mimicked the maneuver with his hand. “From there, you crawl down to the first grate, and that’s where you should have a view into the room just outside the bunker. Don’t hang around long. This should take no more than a minute. Note how many people you see, if any, and what type of equipment. Then tug on the shoestring, and we’ll pull you right back up.”

Rielly nodded, her face tense with nervousness.

“And don’t forget to flip back over on your back so you can make the turn when we’re pulling you back up.”

“All right, let’s get going before I change my mind.” Rielly rolled over onto her stomach and started squeezing into the vent.

“Three tugs.” That was it, and then she wiggled her thin body into the air duct.

It was cramped and dusty. Rielly doubted that Rapp could have fit in the duct, and if he could have, there wouldn’t have been any room left for him to maneuver. It didn’t take long to reach the shaft. As Rapp had said, it was maybe ten feet. Rielly paused at the top, only her fingertips and chin hanging over the edge. There was just enough light for her to see the bottom. It wasn’t as far as she had expected. Slowly she started down. Her arms first, her head, then her whole upper body.

After that the rope became tight and Rapp and Adams began to lower her.

Rielly remembered what Rapp had said, and when she neared the shaft she spun herself around so she could bend at the waist and make the turn.

She pulled herself into the lateral duct and rested for a second.

The knots felt a little tight on her ankles, but were bearable.

After gathering herself, she spun back onto her stomach, and that was when she heard it. A whining noise. The sound of machinery working. The sound of a drill. Rielly’s heart rate quickened. The first vent was just ahead on her right. From where she was positioned, she felt as though she could almost reach out and touch it.

With some reservation she inched forward several feet and stopped. The noise had not gone away. As slowly as she could, Rielly scooted forward an inch at a time, using all other concentration to make sure no noise was made. The duct became brighter with the light from the hallway. As she neared the grate, she grew nervous at how well she could see her hands.

Approaching the vent, she could start to see the off-white wall of the hallway. The cover had a series of vertical slats that were angled to force the air down. Rielly laid her head flat so she could try to get a look straight down the hallway and into the bunker. What she saw caused her to hold her breath.

Straight ahead, just down the hall, was the shiny vault door to the president’s bunker, and attached to it were the objects that were making the noise she had been hearing. Drills of some sort. Three of them. One big and two small. Rielly moved her head around and tried to get better angles of the anteroom but could find none. On the floor there appeared to be a variety of toolboxes and some tanks. She could see only part of the room because the first door was not swung all the way open.

Rielly was finishing her inventory of what little she could see and was preparing to reach for the string around her neck when a man appeared.

He came into her view from a part of the room that she could not see.

Rielly’s first reaction was to move back a little out of fear that he might be able to see her.

She quickly realized this was stupid and told herself to calm down. The man, who looked more like a plumber than a terrorist, approached the drills with a cup in his hand. He touched the casings of each one with his hand and then went about measuring their progress with a tape measure.

Oh, this was going to be one hell of a story, Rielly thought to herself.

She watched the man for another couple seconds and then tugged on the shoestring three times. After a slight pause she began sliding back down the vent.