returned-what had Dave done to ingratiate himself to the power brokers in Washington? Maybe he had changed.
Bennett loved the landscaped entrance to his apartment. It was a jungle of bent pines and well-tended flowers. He took in the simple beauty of the place, paying no notice to the figure closing on him from behind. A cultured Middle Eastern voice broke the silence. 'I beg your pardon, Commander Bennett?'
John turned to face a man in gray trousers and expensive light-blue worsted jacket. The stranger carried himself with an air of dignity; of one accustomed to authority. His swarthy complexion was punctuated by a well- trimmed goatee. Bennett thought the Rolex on his left wrist must have cost $5,000. The gray-and-red tie was elegantly knotted and snugged to the perfectly starched collar of his dress shirt. This man had what soldiers called command presence.
The gentleman extended his hand and Bennett appreciated the firm grasp. This was a very self-composed individual, and Bennett's four-inch height advantage seemed to dwindle.
'My name is Safad Fatah. I am a Saudi Arabian diplomat. Could I please speak with you a few minutes?' The accent carried a trace of British influence-probably the result of an expensive education in England.
'What do you want to talk about?'
'Is it perhaps possible we could talk in your apartment?'
Bennett started to hedge but the Arab gentleman interrupted.
'Please, Commander, it will only take a moment. I think you might find it most interesting.'
Bennett unlocked his door, stepped back, and swept his hand inward, inviting the guest to enter. Fatah took in the apartment in a single glance.
'Please sit down. By the way, how did you know my name?'
Fatah rested his hands on his plump belly. 'I have been in your country for the past five years. I am presently with the Saudi Embassy in Washington, and we obtained your address from some friends in that area.'
Bennett's curiosity intensified.
'Can I get you something cool to drink? A beer perhaps?'
Immediately Bennett realized his error.
'No thank you, sir.' If Fatah took offense he covered it admirably. 'If you have a Pepsi that would be nice.'
Bennett rummaged through his cluttered refrigerator. One of the women he occasionally dated was fond of Pepsi, and there were two cans left.
As he poured the soda into a glass, Bennett searched his memory. Whom did he know in D.C. who traveled in diplomatic circles? Feeling the warrior's suspicion of diplomats, Bennett kept his distance. He acknowledged the supremacy of civilian leadership over the armed forces, but he drew the line at meddling.
Bennett sat down across from Fatah and both men sized up one another. Bennett had removed his own jacket but the Arab sat impeccably clad with his coat still buttoned.
Barely sipping his drink, the Saudi leaned forward and his dark eyes fixed on Bennett's. 'Commander, my government would like to discuss with you ·the possibility of a venture in my nation which would make use of your expertise. If it's agreeable to you, we would be pleased to have you as our guest in Arabia. If your schedule permits, we can set the meeting in Riyadh six days hence. I must leave this evening but I shall meet you upon arrival. We will, of course, pay all your expenses and we think you might enjoy a few days as our guest.'
Bennett masked the confusion he felt. His face belied any uncertainty but his mind raced. 'And what would you want me-'
Again Fatah smoothly interrupted. 'Please, Commander, I cannot say more than I have. Everything would be made clear to you, but for the present would you please consider that I am not at liberty to divulge more information? My sovereign will explain everything to you in due course.'
The Saudi's initial contact with Bennett was the result of a two-year effort Riyadh had invested in selecting the retired aviator. There was nothing about John Bennett the Saudis did not know; he even looked the part, as if cast for a motion picture. There were the clear gray eyes which could display disarming charm or icy rage. Women especially would see and be moved by those eyes, and Arabs knew women as perhaps no other men on earth. The Prophet had given that knowledge to his people. Of that, Fatah was certain.
Bennett's cheeks were tanned and there were small lines at the comers of both eyes-testament to 5,000 hours aloft, many of them squinting into the sun in search of adversaries. The carefully groomed hair had a touch of gray now, but the overall impression was one of energy and vigor.
Following orders from his government, Fatah had selected the fifty-four-year-old retired naval officer after extensive screening.
Bennett's combat record, his writings on aerial combat, his reputation among his contemporaries and-most important-among his former students, were well known to Fatah. He knew of the man's marriage, the death of his wife, the fact that Bennett's son was enrolled at Arizona State University.
There had been difficulty obtaining a copy of the thesis Bennett had written at the Naval War College. It had been classified as secret, but the Saudis had obtained Bennett's document, plus several written by other prospective agents. Bennett's opus,
John Bennett at first said nothing as he considered the strange proposal.
The silence was broken when Bennett rose and stood with his hands behind his back. 'Mr. Fatah, can you tell me if your government wishes to utilize my services in any way that could be detrimental to my country, or jeopardize my position as a U. S. citizen and a retired military officer?'
Fatah rose and looked Bennett square in the face. 'Sir, I can assure you that is not the case.'
There was a pause and Bennett strode to the window, staring at the blue Pacific. He said, 'Mr. Fatah, I would be honored to be a guest of your king. I have made deployments to the Mediterranean and I would enjoy seeing the Middle East again. How long should I plan on staying?'
'Oh, I believe three days would be ample time for us to explain our proposal to you. I will have a car pick you up here at noon Thursday. Incidentally, Commander, is your passport current?' Fatah already knew the answer.
'Yes it is. What will the weather be like this time of year?'
'It is suitable for a lightweight suit and sports clothes.' Fatah extended his hand and said, 'Then I shall see you in Riyadh next week, Commander.'
After the man left, Bennett opened a Coors and sat with his feet propped on the coffee table. His curiosity was aroused, and he felt sympathy for the cultured Saudi. The kingdom's days were numbered, he thought. The whole region was a caldron now, on a scale not seen in the past millenium. Iran's interminable war of attrition with Iraq finally had reached an. uneasy settlement. Extensive blood-letting without significant gain by either side, severe economic disruption in the Persian Gulf with repeated attacks on third-party ships and ports-all these factors had forced a tenuous cease-fire. But the late Ayatollah and his successors had gained a victory of sorts. Despite the bitter religious discord between both nations, the cold-eyed Muslim priests in Tehran had reached an understanding with the Arab Socialist Baath party in Baghdad. Islam was slowly, reluctantly, uniting.
The year before, Lebanon's convulsions ended when the Syrian leadership was replaced by the spreading church-state doctrine of the mullahs. Press reports were ominous, for after the moderate Egyptian president and four ministers died in a mysterious plane crash, another bloody civil war was barely averted. The Libyans gleefully played a central role in fomenting turmoil in Cairo, and were suspected of sabotaging the presidential aircraft. It had taken decades, but the entire Islamic world seemed to be rallying under the green flag with star and crescent.
Nobody was naive enough to believe the Arab states would sublimate their individual differences for long; religious antagonism alone between Sunni and Shiite would guarantee lasting discord. But for the moment, the pressure was on the moderate Muslim nations.
John Bennett was aware of these facts. But he needed more information, a broader perspective. He set down his beer, grabbed the keys to his Mercedes, and headed for the library. In his methodical way he spent the evening building a background file, then he checked out a copy of the Koran.
The more he studied recent Middle East history, the more Bennett understood the rarity and importance of
