Rapp liked where this was headed.

"Where is this fictitious door located?"

Adams changed pages again and tapped a spot.

"Right here. Just down the hall from where we are right now, in the china storage room."

"That's perfect."

"Not quite." Adams shook his head.

"These doors that lead to the anteroom are hermetically sealed with rubber gaskets. If we go down through the tunnel, we wouldn't be able to hear or see anything in the anteroom unless we open the door to it, and I doubt you want to do that."

"No." Rapp thought about the options for a second.

"Yeah, you're probably right. That means they would have had to get through one of these outer doors first to get to the bunker door."

"Yep, and this is the door they would have gone through."

Adams changed back to the drawing that showed the layout of the third basement.

"This way they only go through one door.

If they tried to come in through the tunnel door, that's assuming they could find it to begin with, they would have had to go through an extra door."

"That makes sense." Rapp looked at the drawing.

"So we have to go down the stairs we used when we came in and hope that a guard isn't posted like he was last night."

"I'm afraid so."

"Okay." Rapp took his hand off the blueprints.

"Put those things away, and let's get ready to move out. You know the routine."

After he was done putting the blueprints back in order, Adams folded them up and stuffed them inside his black vest.

Then, unzipping and turning on the monitor, he pressed the button to open the elevator door. Rapp stood over his shoulder while Adams stuck the tip of the snake under the outer metal door leading to the first basement. The tiny lens gave them a slightly warped view of the hallway looking up from the stark concrete floor. Adams maneuvered the lens all the way to the right and then back to the left.

"Looks good," proclaimed Rapp as he stepped back and readied his gun.

Adams pulled the snake back with his right hand and coiled it against his hip.

Rapp took the doorknob in his right hand, pulled, and scooted quickly into the hallway. He brought his MP-10 up and swept to the right and left. Adams was just two steps behind, having had to pause for just a second to shut the outer door to the elevator. In less than three seconds Rapp was at the door that led to the two lower floors. A twist of the metal knob with his gloved right hand and he was through the door, his thick black silencer moving everywhere his eyes went.

Whether he had one hand on the weapon or two, it made no difference. At this close distances, one-handed, he could hit a head-size target with about ninety-five percent accuracy on the first shot. With both hands on the efficient and compact Heckler & Koch, it was a guaranteed one hundred percent. After checking the stairwell above, Rapp began his controlled descent, keeping his body pressed against the wall, always looking down and checking each new stair as it came into view. Adams followed quietly, several steps behind. Rapp was gaining confidence in him.

When they hit the landing in between the second and third basements, Rapp stopped. The tiny surveillance unit he had placed next to the door was barely discernible. If he hadn't known it was there, he doubted he would have seen it. Stopping for even five seconds, out in the open like this, seemed like an eternity, but Rapp was trying to get a feel as to whether someone was on the other side of the door.

He went down the last four steps and stopped, his eyes fixed on the half-inch sliver of light that framed the base of the metal fire door.

For another long five seconds, Rapp crouched and stared. Still nothing.

Rapp waved Adams down. The older man descended the last flight cautiously, holding on to the monitor as if it were the head of a baby.

Stepping back and holding his submachine gun ready, Rapp directed Adams to slide the tip of the snake under the door.

As Adams moved the device to the left, a pair of boots came into view.

They were walking toward the door. Rapp reached out and pulled Adams's hand back, keeping his gun trained on the door. After waiting several seconds for the boots to pass, Adams and Rapp retreated in silence.

"BROODING" MIGHT HAVE been the right word, at least at first. But that smug emotion was gone now, replaced by one of self-loathing and personal disgust. Disgust, she told herself.

Not disappointment or disrespect, it was disgust. Mr. Secret Agent Man's parting slam had stung, and Anna Rielly's first response had been to fold her arms tightly across her chest and ask herself just who that gun-toting ass thought he was. Where in the hell did he get off judging her so quickly? He didn't know who she was. He was just another one of those arrogant white males, like so many of her dad's cop friends, who thought they were the only ones that knew what life was all about. They had no idea how important it was to have a truly free press. Just who in the hell did he think he was? The voice in the back of her head responded. He's the man who risked his life to save yours.

At that point, Riellys mood turned from brooding to selfloathing, and now she sat feeling not so hot about herself.

THE ELEVATOR STOPPED at the second floor, and without having to be told, Adams was already working the monitor to check the different surveillance units. For his part, Rapp was trying to figure out their next step beyond calling Langley.

There had to be a way to check on the president. When they got back in the stash room, he would get Adams to spread out his blueprints and see if there were any other options. But that meant Rielly, and that wouldn't work. She already knew too much as it was, and things were only going to get worse.

Adams finished checking the surveillance units and told Rapp the coast was clear. Rapp nodded, and after a couple seconds, he said, "When we get back to the stash room, I'm going to need you to step outside with Anna for a couple of minutes while I talk to Langley."

The twisted expression on Adams's face gave Rapp the impression he wasn't too fond of the idea.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like the idea of sitting outside of the room with her and my little six-shooter." The horizontal lines on Adams's shiny black forehead deepened.

"I think you're overreacting."

Adams saw an instantaneous change in Rapp's demeanor. The lid on the kettle started to wobble. In earnest, Adams added, "Just a bit… I mean, I understand your need for secrecy and everything, but—" Rapp cut him off.

"She's a reporter, end of discussion, let's go." Rapp jerked his thumb toward the door.

It was obvious Rapp wasn't going to budge, so Adams zipped up the monitor and opened the door. Rapp stepped onto the white tile floor first, and Adams closed the door behind them. Another quick trip across the hall and they were back in the large walk-in closet.

Rapp pointed at the ground.

"You stay here. Use the monitor to make sure no one is coming. I'll leave the door unlocked. At the first sign of trouble, come back in the room."

Rapp didn't give Adams a chance to ask any questions.

Turning immediately, he opened the organizer and stepped into the stash room. Rielly was sitting in the corner right where they had left her.

Rapp looked down at Anna Rielly and wished she weren't there. Wished he could just erase her from his mind.

"You're back awfully quick," was the only thing Rielly could think of.

Ignoring her words, he stuck his hand out. Rielly grabbed it, and Rapp pulled her to her feet. He maneuvered her toward the open door and ignored her question. Pushing her out into the closet, Rapp pulled the organizer shut with a slight click.

He dropped to one knee, grabbed the handset to the field radio, and said, "Iron Man to control. Over."