"General Campbell, I'd like to request permission to go in with my demo boys. I think—" Campbell cut him off.

"Request denied. I want you with your team."

Harris held the handset of the secure field radio to his ear.

He was not to be deterred so easily.

"I respectfully disagree, sir.

I think I would be more valuable helping conduct the recon of the building."

"You are to stay put. Commander."

The voice was not Campbell's. It was General Flood's.

Harris, slightly caught off guard, had not expected Flood to be listening in on the conversation.

The highest-ranking officer in the entire U.S. military continued by saying, "If things proceed well, there's a good chance we'll be sending you and your team in."

"Yes, sir," was the only reply Harris could muster.

"Now get your boys moving. Iron Man will be waiting for them on the other side."

BACK IN THE stash room, Mitch Rapp was reorganizing his gear for his incursion back into the bowels of the two hundred-year-old mansion.

Things were happening fast, but he was more than happy to receive the professional services of a couple of SEAL demolition experts, especially since it would mean he would not have to deal with the bombs.

One thing he did want to do before he headed out, though, was talk to the woman he had grabbed from the president's bed. Rapp had been so busy talking to Kennedy and the others that he hadn't had the chance to find out who the woman was and, more important, if she had any information that might help them. Moving his gear to the side, Rapp took off his baseball cap and scratched his head. Watching Adams give the woman some water, he noticed for the first time that she was very attractive, stunning actually. Rapp scooted forward on his knees to get a little closer and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Rielly had wrapped herself tightly in the sheet and had one arm out.

Looking up at the man kneeling in front of her, she replied timidly,

"I'm fine." But, before the last syllable left her mouth, the tears started again. Rielly brushed some of them from her cheek and added, "I'm not fine… I'm a mess."

Rapp laughed at her blunt observation. Reaching out, he grabbed her shoulder and said, "You're fine. Everything's gonna be fine."

Rielly looked up again, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

"I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did."

Grabbing his hand, she squeezed it and said, "I owe you my life."

Rapp blushed slightly.

"Now… now… there's no need to be melodramatic." He didn't know how to deal with the unusually personal gratitude of the woman, having grown used to his deeds going unnoticed by all but a select few.

"I'm serious." Rielly squeezed his hand tighter.

"I'm not being melodramatic. You saved my life."

"Well," Rapp started uncomfortably, "he might not have killed you."

"Oh," scoffed Rielly in between sniffles.

"That's a hell of a consolation." She started to cry even harder.

Milt Adams was still sitting next to Rielly. He looked at Rapp and shook his head.

"You need to learn how to accept someone's gratitude, you big oaf.

"You're welcome'—that's what you say to the pretty little woman."

With his hand still on the woman's shoulder, Rapp scowled at Adams.

Etiquette was hardly a concern of his at the moment. Rapp turned back to the woman, whose moist cheek was now resting on his hand. After squeezing her shoulder lightly, Rapp reached out with his other hand and brushed some of the tears from her cheek.

"You're welcome," he started tentatively.

"I'm glad I was there to help." Rapp held her cheek for a moment and then lifted her head, so he could look her in the eye. That was when he noticed them, the greenest eyes he had ever seen. So beautiful were they that Rapp lost his concentration for a second and forgot what he was about to ask.

He blinked several times and then remembered where he was headed. "I need to ask you some questions. Are you up to it?"

Rielly nodded and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. Taking part of her sheet, she blew her nose quietly and said, "God, I haven't cried this much in years."

"Well, you've been through a lot." Rapp was making a concerted effort to say the right things.

"What a shitty couple of days." Rielly shook her head and managed a laugh.

"Yeah… I'd imagine they don't get much worse." Rapp looked at his watch and said, "Listen, I have some things I have to do, but I want to ask you some questions first."

Rielly nodded.

"Good. Let's start with your name."

"Anna… Anna Rielly."

"I'm Mitch and this is Milt."

Rielly wiped her hand on the sheet and extended it.

"Nice to meet you, Mitch." Rielly gave a warm smile, showing off her dimples." Very nice to meet you." Rapp grinned and shook her hand.

Rielly then turned to Adams and shook his hand.

"What do you do here at the White House?" asked Rapp.

"I'm a reporter." From the look on Rapp's face, one would think they were on their first date and she had just told him she had a husband.

Oh, shit, Rapp thought to himself. This could be a problem.

"Who do you work for?"

"NEC. It was my first day on the job."

"Nice timing," Rapp said with a raised eyebrow.

"No shit." Rielly shook her head.

"Where have you been held for the last several days?"

"In the White House mess."

Rapp looked to Adams, who nodded and said, "That's where I thought he would hold them. No exterior windows and the room is big enough."

Rapp was worried about whether Aziz had kept all of the hostages together or split them up. As a general rule, that decision depended on assets and the layout of the building. With this in mind, Rapp was inclined to believe that with Aziz's limited manpower, he would be forced to keep all of the hostages in one place.

"Were all of the hostages kept in the mess?"

"Yes." Rielly shrugged her shoulders.

"At least I think so."

"How many of you?"

Biting her bottom Up, Rielly thought about it for a moment and said, "I don't know. Eighty… one hundred… a hundred and twenty… ? I don't know."

"I really need you to think about this one. You don't have to answer it right now, but I need you to try and remember how many people were in the mess."

Rielly nodded.

"I'll try."

"What about Secret Service agents? Were they held in the same room as you?" Rapp knew Aziz well enough to bet that he would at. the very least separate the Secret Service agents from the hostages.

"I don't know. When all this started, I'd only been on the job for about fifteen minutes. I don't know what any of the agents look like."

"You don't have to know them personally to be able to pick them out.

They all have short haircuts, athletic builds… They stand out." Rapp looked at her proddingly.

"Come on, you're a reporter." With a grin he added, "You're supposed to notice stuff like that."

Rielly thought about it.

"I don't remember seeing anyone like that."

"What about any marines or other military types?" asked Milt Adams.

Rielly shook her head immediately.

"I know for a fact I didn't see anyone in a uniform."

Rapp nodded to Adams, approving of the timely question.

That settled it for him. Aziz was either holding the Secret Service and military personnel in a different location, or he had killed all of them. Knowing Aziz, the latter was a distinct possibility.

"How many different terrorists did you see?"

Rielly closed her eyes for a second.

"I think I saw six of them, and I'm pretty sure I saw the leader. Some Prince something or other. I actually met him on the street on my way in the morning all of this started. He got out of a limo with Russ Piper, the chairman of the DNC. Russ is an old friend of my family." Rielly paused.