The drinks arrived, and King took a big sip. He let the dry merlot run down his throat and then said, "You wouldn't believe the shit that's going on down there."

Dunn leaned forward and placed her forearms on the table.

"Like what?" Rolling his eyes. King said, "Tutwiler, that stupid bitch.

She's the damn reason Schwartz and his secretary are dead. It was her stupid idea to jerk this nut-bags chain and only send him part of the money." King stopped briefly and took a sip, thinking of the warning the man from the CIA had given all of them—thataziz would react exactly the way he did.

"I tried to advise against it, but she won out. You know how she is. She took charge of the entire briefing at the Pentagon yesterday. The damn woman has the worst case of penis envy I've ever seen. She just couldn't pass up the chance to put all of those military types in their place."

King stopped and shook his head.

"And to make things worse, she's not around to take the heat. She had a fricking nervous breakdown after Schwartz got shot. They had to cart her off to Bethesda."

Dunn'sjaw hung loosely.

"You're kidding?"

"No." King shook his head for emphasis.

"I wish I was. I wish she was here to take the heat." King pointed to himself.

"Now I'm the one who's getting squeezed."

Dunn set her wine down and started tapping at the keys of her laptop.

"So Tutwiler is out… What in the hell is the FBI up to?" Dunn watched King shrug his shoulders and take another drink. She was going to have to work for this one.

"Come on, Dallas. Just give me some good background. I'm not asking you to give away any national secrets." Dunn paused to give him a second to think about it, and then in a soft voice she asked, "What's the FBI up to?"

King looked over the top of his wineglass.

"They're planning for every possible contingency. Collecting information and trying to find a way out of this. Sherman has told them that unless they can guarantee getting the rest of the hostages out safely, we sit tight."

"What about the president? Is all that crap your boss spun in his address the truth?"

"He's fine." King nodded emphatically.

"Just like Sherman said." Then waving his hand in the air as if the president was a non factor he added, "The people at the Pentagon say he can last for weeks in that bunker." King took another drink and then leaned forward. With his nose perched above the screen of Dunn's laptop.

King breathed in her perfume and said, "You smell great."

"Thank you." Dunn smiled halfheartedly and then got back to business.

"What else is going on? Do you know what their next demand is going to be?"

"Nope. We're not supposed to hear anything until the morning." Kings attention was drawn downward. Dunn's blouse was open one more button than normal, and a scintillating amount of soft skin was drawing his mind into a completely different area again. He looked down her shirt and said, "I want to get naked with you so bad."

Dunn grabbed him by the jaw and made him look her in the eye.

"This stuff you gave me about Tutwiler is good, Dallas, but there's more going on than you're telling me, and if you want to get me into bed, you're going to have to do a lot better… and fast."

King felt the blood rushing to his groin. His mind scrambled for any piece of information that might seal the deal, but he'd told her everything that was going on. The truth was, nothing was going on.

Everybody was sitting around and waiting to react… except… except one person. King pulled away and sat back. He couldn't talk about that, but there was something related that he could talk about—something that would play great in the press.

"There is one thing." Pausing, he tried to gauge how much information he could hand over.

Dunn saw his hesitancy and drew closer.

"What… what is it?"

King looked around the immediate area and then leaned forward.

"Listen, no one can find out I told you this."

Dunn feigned insult.

"Dallas, I've never revealed one of my sources."

Unimpressed, King rolled his eyes.

"All I'm saying is that this is serious shit, all right?"

Dunn nodded eagerly.

"You have my word. Your name will never be revealed."

The vice president's chief of staff looked around once again to make sure no one was eavesdropping, and then, in a whisper, he said, "The CIA knew about this attack before it happened."

Dunn's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"What? And they didn't do anything about it?"

"No." King shook his head.

"They only found out just before it happened. As soon as they found out, they alerted the Secret Service. That's why Hayes made it to his bunker."

"So the CIA saved the day."

King shrugged.

"It was hardly a banner day, but I suppose you could say that."

Dunn smiled broadly.

"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."