Rielly started to get back up. There was no way she was going to give in. She would rather die than be raped again. The terrorist blocked her arms and sent the butt end of the knife crashing down and into Rielly's temple. The blow knocked her unconscious, and Rielly went limp, leaving her completely motionless and vulnerable on the bed.

Abu Hasan wasted no time. Taking his knife, he began cutting off her clothes. The more skin he revealed the faster he cut. Once he had her pants off, he ripped at her blouse, and then stopped for a second.

Lustfully, he looked down at the young woman before him and admired her tanned, firm body.

Slowly, he reached down and ran his hand over her leg. He stopped at her black lace panties, and then with a violent yank, he tore them from her body.

MILT ADAMS WAS disturbed by what was happening in the other room, but it wasn't as scary as the transformation taking place right in front of him. Mitch Rapp's face had taken on a very different look. His eyes had twisted into a menacing stare, his jaw was clenched, and a sheen of sweat now coated his forehead.

Rapp shook his head several times and muttered something through his clenched teeth. Inside his mind a battle was being waged. The logical side was telling him that the mission was more important than what was going on in the other room. All of his professional training had taught him that he should stay put and continue to collect information without announcing his presence, that the lives of the other hostages were more important, that killing Rafique Aziz was more important. Despite knowing what he should do, there was another voice in his head that was saying something entirely different.

BACK IN THE control room at Langley, all eyes were on the big board. A surveillance device had been activated by Rapp, and its grainy transmission was being received on one of the monitors. The technicians at Langley worked with Marcus Dumond, who, with the aid of the communications boom on the back of the van, was homing in on the frequency and trying to filter out the disturbances. Over the course of several minutes the picture began to clear, eventually revealing a lone man in a lit doorway.

Without taking his eyes off the screen. General Campbell asked Kennedy,

"Is that the president's bedroom?"

"It must be," replied Kennedy as she squinted at the monitor.

She watched as the man in the doorway turned and walked quickly back into the room. A second man's profile appeared in the doorway, and Kennedy immediately recognized it as Rapp's.

"Why are they going back into the closet?" asked Campbell.

Kennedy frowned.

"I don't know."

One of the technicians turned around and said, "We've got audio on the unit."

"Put it on the speaker system," stated Kennedy, without taking her eyes off the monitor. A second later a scratchy audio came over the room's overhead speaker system.

There was a loud noise, and General Flood, who was sitting one row behind Kennedy and Campbell, asked, "What in the hell was that?"

Kennedy stared at the monitor showing the open doorway of the president's bedroom with the lit hallway beyond and said, "It sounded like a scream."

Just then a man appeared in the doorway dragging a woman behind him. As if on cue everyone in the control room moved closer to the screen in an attempt to discern what was happening. Within seconds it was brutally apparent what was unfolding before them. Kennedy, in an unusually tense voice, snapped, "Get me Iron Man on the radio right now!" Kennedy knew Rapp better than anyone in the room and possibly better than anyone in the world. Kennedy knew she had to assert some control over him and assert it quickly, if she had even the slightest chance of stopping him from doing what she knew he was contemplating.

THE MP-10WAS on the ground in the corner and had been replaced by the silenced 9-mm Beretta. Rapp stared at the gun.

Angry beyond comprehension, he felt like punching a hole in the wall. He told himself to bring it back a notch. Too much anger led to poor judgment. But Rapp hated thugs, people that took from others, animals that did what they wanted to do with little or no thought of what their actions did to fellow human beings.

Mentally, Rapp was gone. The decision had been made.

There was no turning back. The woman in the other room was somebody's daughter, probably somebody's wife, and maybe some poor kids mother, and there was no way he could allow himself to sit in the safety of the bulletproof room and let it happen.

The secure field radio spurted a quiet beeping noise, and a green light on the panel began to flash. Adams reached for the handset, and Rapp stopped him.

"Don't answer that."

Adams slowly withdrew his hand. He no longer recognized the man sitting next to him. Rapp reached out, turned the power switch on the radio to the off position, and pulled his headset down around his neck. Standing, he retrieved his matte-black combat knife and kept it in his left hand.

He looked at the pistol in one hand and the knife in the other and paused. Standing, Milt Adams licked his dry lips, and with a worried expression on his face, he asked, "What are you going to do?"

Rapp looked sideways at him and after a short pause said, "I'm going to go out there and kill that piece of shit. It's not what I should do, but it's what I'm gonna do." Adams swallowed hard and with a nod said, "Good Then after a second, he added, "Do you want me to help?"

Rapp shook his head and closed his eyes.

"No… Turn off the lights, and open the door. Then stay here, and be quiet." Adams did as he was told. He couldn't see Rapp, but could feel him as Rapp slid through the passageway and into the closet.

ANNA RIELLY OPENED her eyes and tried to focus. Above her was darkness, but to her right there was light. Slowly, she turned her head and saw her attacker. The man had already taken off his shirt and was working on his pants. Rielly tried to move, but her arms wouldn't respond. Looking down, she saw her bare chest through tear-filled eyes. She was living the nightmare.

MITCH RAPP STOOD at the closet doorway for several seconds and listened.

His eyes were closed. He wanted them to adjust to the darkness as much as possible. There was a noise from the bedroom. It sounded as if the woman was crying, and then he heard a male laugh. Rapp opened his eyes and looked at his two weapons. He could shoot equally well with either hand, but he was better with the knife in his left hand. Rapp decided that if he could get close enough, he would use the knife, and he had few doubts he could. Before leaving, he started the timer on his watch and then reached for the door.

Slowly, cautiously, he turned the handle and began to open it.

RIELLY SOBBED AS she looked at the man looming over her. He was laughing, his disgusting cigarette breath enveloping her face. He held his erection with one hand and reached out with his other hand, pawing at Riellys groin. The young journalist clamped down with her legs and screamed. The terrorist yanked her legs apart and slapped her across the face.

Rielly tried to fight, but her strength was gone. All she could do was cry as he lowered his body on top of her.

THE DOOR OPENED slowly. Rapp peered through the crack and saw the light from the hallway spilling into the room. From his angle he could see a man with his back to him taking off his clothes and standing at the foot of the large bed.

The man began to climb onto the bed. Now was the time to move. With his knife in his left hand and the gun in his right, Rapp proceeded slowly.

He took his first step and then quickly looked to the left and the right to make sure no one else was in the room. He stepped silently, without vibration or noise, carefully placing his heel and then the rest of his foot on the floor.