“Right here,” replied the Colonel.
Out of sheer habit, General Rashood leaned down and seized one of the rifles on the ground and led Shakira back into the construction site and toward the town. Their waiting car, up in the square above town, would take them back down the main highway to Marrakesh airport. For them it was over.
It was not, however, over for Jacques Gamoudi. Two more French commandos came racing along the dock following the sound of the gunfire. One of them kept going straight into the rough ground, toward his dead comrades. The other drew his pistol and came straight at the U.S. SEALs. But that was like charging a full-grown Bengal tiger: they cut him down in his tracks.
The SEALs reached the edge of the seawall.
Behind one of the boats, they clipped on their flippers and rifles, which were stowed in waterproof back holsters, and began to swim, kicking fast for the harbor mouth, each of them with one hand on Jacques Gamoudi. The Colonel was lying motionless on his back, being dragged through the water faster than an Olympic one- hundred-meter freestyler.
There were only three hundred yards to go — that was thirty powerful kicks from these guys. And at the end of that, Jacques Gamoudi was dragged inboard the twenty-four-foot-long inflatable.
They kicked the twin Yamaha outboards into life, and the boat surged to the west, making almost forty knots across the calm water, the lights of Agadir growing fainter behind them.
Taylor took the cell phone off the dashboard and hit one button. And for the second time in a week there was a loud burst of applause in the comms room of the U.S.S.
EPILOGUE
Col. Jacques Gamoudi stood before the General Assembly in one of the most extraordinary sessions ever to take place inside the great round hall of delegates. He was surrounded by bulletproof glass on all four sides.
There were seventy-four different interpreters in the UN’s operations room. The glass was the idea of Adm. Arnold Morgan, as a continuous world precaution against the lawlessness of France, whose representatives were not present. The Admiral had also framed the questions that would be directed to Colonel Gamoudi by the soft- spoken North African diplomat who now served as Secretary-General.
The interrogation lasted for two hours, and by the end of it the international reputation of the Republic of France lay in shreds. Among the exchanges, which were heard around the world, was the following:
Q: And did you personally command that large assault force in Riyadh that overthrew the Saudi King?
A: Yes, sir, I did.
Q: And who hired you to do so?
A: The French Government, sir.
Q: And how much were you paid by the French Government?
A: Fifteen million dollars, sir.
Q: And could you prove that beyond any doubt whatsoever?
A: I could.
Q: And who was responsible for the destruction of the Saudi oil fields and the loading docks?
A: The French Navy, sir. Two submarines, the Amethyste and the Perle. Frogmen and submerged-launch cruise missiles.
Q: And the destruction of the King Khalid Air Base?
A: French Special Forces, sir. Ferried in from Djibouti. Specialists, trained in France, blew the aircraft to pieces.
Q: And could you name the French Commanders?
A: Yes, sir, if you wish.
Q: And why have you decided to betray your country?
A: Because they have tried to assassinate me after I carried out my orders, direct from the President, to the letter.
Q: And how were you saved from the assassins?
A: By the United States Navy, sir. I owe them my life.
Q: And do you know why they saved you?
A: Yes, sir. In order that the world should know the truth of France’s actions.
Q: And will you ever be returning to France?
A: No, sir.
At 3:25 that afternoon, on behalf of the General Assembly, the United Nations Secretary-General apologized unconditionally to the President of the United States for the previous directive condemning the actions of the U.S. in the Strait of Hormuz and the Red Sea. This was formally accepted by the U.S. Ambassador to the UN.
The following morning, Admiral Morgan himself opened negotiations with King Nasir for the U.S.A. to take future charge of the Saudi oil industry. The Saudis would still receive the same money, but the U.S.A. would be responsible for security and the marketing of the product worldwide.
Admiral Morgan was in fact surprised by the ease with which the negotiations proceeded, the relaxed way the King cut the French right out of the equation, confirming, for the moment at least, that he wanted nothing more to do with the Republic of France.
Arnold Morgan thought the King’s attitude bordered on treachery toward his old partners in crime, in the overthrow of the free-spending former Saudi royal household. But then, he was not party to a conversation between the King and the French President, which unhappily ended thus:
“I am afraid, Mr. President, your conduct toward a very close friend of mine is entirely unacceptable to me. As a Bedouin, I cannot condone such betrayal of a good and loyal soldier and, I believe, a friend to us both.
“If it helps you, I should remind you I was a student of the works of E. M. Forster. I wrote my English literature thesis on him at Harvard. That, perhaps, is all you need to know.”
But the French President did not know. And probably never would.
The two Royal Saudi Air Force Boeings touched down lightly, one after the other, on the runway at the little airport south of the state capital of Idaho. Here, in one of the great mountainous regions of the American Midwest, was the new home of Mr. and Mrs. Jack McCaffrey.
Jack and Giselle stood in the doorway of the tiny arrivals lounge awaiting their guest, who was, incidentally, accompanied by an entourage of forty-seven family and staff members — kid’s stuff compared with the retinue of 3,000 that had often traveled with his predecessor on the Saudi throne.
The guests would be filling the biggest of the local hotels, but the King himself insisted on staying at the McCaffreys’ home for three days.
The family had come here to Idaho with their two boys immediately after the United Nations hearings were
