Page 113 of Transfer of Power (Mitch Rapp 3)

“How much time do we have?” They cut through the dining room and into the hallway, where he pushed open the wall panel.

“We’re not sure.”

Rapp closed the wall behind him and gestured for Adams to start moving down the stairs. “What’s our best guess?” he whispered.

There was some discussion on the other end and then, “Ten minutes, tops.”

Rapp and Adams hit the landing outside of Horsepower, and Rapp pushed Adams into the tunnel. Once they were inside, Rapp closed the door so he could speak without worry of being heard. “Control, let’s take it from the top. The place is wired to the gills, and we’ve only seen a quarter of it. Our only shot is to get these SEALs in here and have them defuse a point of entry for HRT.”

“We’ve got another problem. We just discovered that one of the monitors in Horsepower is tuned to a rooftop camera.”

Rapp thought about it quickly and came up with a solution. “I’ll wait down here, and if the Tango in Horsepower sees them come in I’ll take him out.”

Rapp looked at Adams and waited for Campbell’s reply. He quickly grew frustrated with being cut out of the discussion process on the other end. After more than ten seconds of waiting, he shouted into his lip mike, “Irene, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Keep me in the loop. I’m your only on-site asset, and we don’t have time to debate every point.”

General Flood came on the line. “Iron Man, we’ve got some logistical problems. We were off by almost thirty minutes on our last estimate, and we can’t afford to be off by that much again. Not with the president’s life on the line.”

“Then bring Delta in quicker, but we have to get Harris and his boys going, or those hostages are all dead.”

“They might be anyway,” stated General Campbell. “I’d say right now the chances of getting HRT in that building are between slim and none. And if we do get them in, the chances of them coming out alive aren’t much better.”

Rapp was pissed. The minutes were ticking away and people were getting-cold feet. “I need help. I can take out the Tango in Horsepower. I can maybe take out the Tango up in the Roo

sevelt Room, but there’s no way I can contend with all of these bombs and take out the Tangos in the mess. We need to take some risks!”

Flood’s deep voice came over the headset. “We don’t want to see the hostages die either, but we’re not about to send good men on a suicide mission.”

“We’re paid to take risks, General Flood. You’ve been out in the field, and if you were twenty years younger, you would want in, no matter how bad the odds. Put the question to Harris and his men, and I’ll guarantee they’ll want in.”

There was a moment of silence, and then General Campbell said, “I agree. We have to try.”

Kennedy and Stansfield agreed with Campbell, which put all the pressure on General Flood. It was a risky operation, but they had to try. Flood knew it. After a brief moment of reflection the chairman of the Joint Chiefs gave the approval. The second he did so, General Campbell turned around and started barking orders to the JSOC staff sitting in front of him. The officers in turn relayed the orders over secure lines.

* * *

THE MC-130 COMBAT Talon was three minutes away from the jump point when they received the go-ahead from JSOC. The navigator informed Commander Harris of the countdown, and the four SEALs moved to the back ramp with their bulky chutes and packs. Under their left arms, their suppressed Heckler & Koch MP-10 submachine guns were safely secured.

The four men stood in single file at the top of the ramp. Reavers, the jumpmaster, was first in line. He checked everyone’s chute one last time and then took up his place in the number one slot.

Harris walked up to Reavers’s side and looked out at the horizon. To the west the sun was now down, but the sky above it was still lit. To the east it looked as if the world were about to end. The sky was black from as far to the north and east as the eye could see. Looking down, Harris could see the Beltway running east to west, and to his right was the University of Maryland. Beyond the university, the city of Baltimore was getting pounded by the storm. The commander could tell from the trees below that it was gusting hard.

Mick Reavers yelled into his CO’s ear, “Great weather to jump in. Who’s the crazy bastard that came up with this plan?”

Harris smiled. “We’ve been in worse situations, Mick. Just make sure you hike up your skirt before you jump. We wouldn’t want it to get caught on anything.” Reavers gave his boss the bird. Harris smiled at the big slab of beef before him and slapped Reavers on the shoulder. Returning to his spot at the end of the stick, the commander checked the altimeter strapped to his left wrist and waited for the signal.

Through the eerie red light of the cabin, the green jump light began to flash. Almost instantly Reavers raised his right hand and gave the signal for the men to stand by. Seconds later, Reavers gave the go signal and leapt from the open ramp of the Combat Talon. Tony Clark came next, then Jordan Rostein, and lastly Dan Harris pivoted and leapt from the plane.

All four men turned one hundred eighty degrees in the air and assumed the free-fall position known as the frog—arms and legs extended and bent slightly upward. In the darkening sky, the luminescent tape on their helmets helped them keep track of each other and line up. Beneath them and to the south, the White House was easily identifiable.

RAPP WAS RECEIVING steady updates from Langley while he tried to think of potential problems. He had identified many, but there were two he could actually do something about.

He turned to Adams and asked, “Is that door to Horsepower locked?”

“Yes.”

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