look as well: The man was momentarily forgetting she was the wife of an Egyptian president and was looking at her as just another potential sexual conquest. Ouda was obviously accustomed to doing that, no matter who else was looking on. He gave her another half-bow, half-nod and departed.
A woman in uniform quickly stepped over to them, snapped to attention, and saluted. She wore the red beret of the Republican Guards, the elite infantry soldiers assigned to protect the president and other high government officials, and she wore a small MP5 submachine gun on a combat harness on her body. She was shorter and thinner than Susan, and rather small for a soldier, but her dark eyes and firm jaw told an entirely different story.
'Madame, this is Captain Amina Shafik, formerly an infantry officer and a company commander in the Republican Guards,' General Baris said. 'She was first assigned to protect my wife seven years ago until cancer took her. She has been my personal aide since. I trust her implicitly. Captain Shafik, Madame Susan Salaam.' Shafik saluted, then snapped to parade rest. 'I have assigned her to you as your personal bodyguard. She will stay with you night and day. You must trust her judgment when it comes to your safety.'
Susan extended her hand, and the handshake confirmed Susan's observation-she was deceptively strong. 'I am pleased to meet you, Captain,' Susan said. 'Do you have a family? A husband?'
'A brother and two sisters, Madame, both emigrated to the United States,' Shafik replied. 'My parents are dead, killed by the Israelis in the Six-Day War. My husband was an officer in the Mubahath el-Dawa, killed in a terrorist bombing of the State Security Investigations headquarters by Gama'a al-Islamiyya.'
'I am sorry for your loss, Captain,' Susan said. She looked at her carefully. 'You lost a child as well, did you not, Captain?'
Shafik's eyes widened, first in surprise, then in sadness as the memories flooded back, unbidden. She nodded. 'I lost it the day I learned of the death of my husband.'
'It is an enormous tragedy,' Susan said. 'But you will learn to love again, and you will find a man worthy of your love. I hope you won't let your hatred prevent you from having the child you well deserve.'
'My tragedy-and my hatred-is insignificant compared to what you must feel, Madame,' Shafik said, her voice flowing with relief and gratitude.
'No tragedy-or hatred-is insignificant,' Susan said quietly. 'I assure you of that.'
'If you permit me, Madame,' Shafik said, 'I would like to personally apologize to you for the breach in discipline and procedures by the Republican Guards on the day of your husband's assassination. I have served in the Guards for almost ten years, and I have never witnessed such a flagrant dereliction of duties and responsibilities.' She removed her red beret, crushing it in her strong hands. 'I am ashamed to wear the beret.'
'Don't be, Captain-you earned the right to wear it,' Susan said. 'It was the ones who took bribes and allowed themselves to be lured away from their posts that should strip themselves of the honor of wearing it, not you.'
'Yes, Madame,' Shafik said. 'I assure you, I will do everything I can to avenge my president's, your husband's, assassination. Those who committed that deed do not deserve justice-they deserve retribution.'
Susan Salaam touched Shafik on her left cheek and nodded reassuringly. 'And they shall have it, Captain,' she said quietly but sternly. 'The killers of both our husbands shall feel our vengeance.' Shafik smiled, nodded, then snapped proudly to attention.
'We have your quarters ready, Sekhmet,' Baris said, pointing to a waiting armored staff car.
'I want to meet the commandos first.'
'Out of the question,' Baris said. 'Captain?'
'The commandos have not allowed anyone except supply vessels near the ship, Madame,' Shafik said. 'The ship is guarded continuously by at least twenty men on deck plus one of the commandos dressed in the strange combat equipment. We have made three attempts in the past two days to sneak aboard the ship and were caught every time. Our next option being considered is a massive assault.'
'I don't believe that'll be necessary,' Susan said. 'They are keeping themselves imprisoned on the ship-I see no reason to risk any lives just so we can take them off to another prison. Let's go have a talk with them.'
The Egyptians are being extraordinarily cooperative all of a sudden, Muck,' David Luger observed. He had just entered the Combat Information Center aboard the Egyptian frigate El Arish and joined Patrick and several other members of the Night Stalkers, looking over charts and satellite photographs of Libya. 'The cordon around us has relaxed-they moved their patrol boats out another halfklick. Still within visual range and easily within helicopter and deck gun range, but it takes the pressure off. All their fire-control radars and jammers have shut down. They've also agreed to send more medical supplies and extra food and water for our prisoners.' He set a folder on-the chart table. 'More NIRTSat photos, hot off the press.'
' 'Good,' Patrick acknowledged. David looked at his friend and former commanding officer with great concern. Patrick looked bone-weary, with large dark circles under his eyes, his face drawn and haggard. He still wore the Tin Man battle armor-he had taken it off for only a few moments for an inspection several hours earlier before donning it again-and he kept it and the exoskeleton, standing near the bulkhead in quick reach, plugged in and fully charged. 'Any word yet from anyone on Wendy?'
'No,' Luger replied. 'I've put in several back-channel requests for support to the Intelligence Support Agency, Muck, but our status is only a little bit better than the Libyans themselves. They don't go for freelancers, even if it's experienced operators like us. They wouldn't like us even if the White House and Pentagon were supportivebut Thorn and Goff are out gunning for us too, which makes matters even worse. Too many heads will roll if they get caught helping us.'
Patrick looked discouraged, rubbing his eyes and lowering his head wearily. 'Screw 'em,' he growled. 'Between Dr. Masters's photo recon birds and UCAVs and a few soft probes by us, we'll find her.'
'If she's still alive.'
'She's alive, dammit.'
'I hear you loud and clear, Muck,' David Luger said pointedly. 'But I want to make it clear to you, at the same time, that we have no hard information that she survived the attack. The Egyptians say they found bodies, including women-'
'They never made a complete search.'
'I know-the ship went down in Libyan waters, not Egyptian waters,' Luger corrected himself. 'But it went down close enough to Egypt to examine wreckage that has drifted east. They have not found any survivors. If she somehow survived and the Libyans got her, they will keep her tightly under wraps until they're done interrogating her, and then they'll dispose of her.'
Patrick's head snapped up, and he glared at his longtime partner with pure seething anger. But he also knew what
David had been through in his life-he definitely knew what he was talking about.
Fourteen years earlier, while flying their first secret mission in the modified B-52 Megafortress bomber nicknamed 'Old Dog' out of the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center in Nevada, then-Air Force first lieutenant and B-52 bomber navigator David Luger was left for dead at a Russian air base in eastern Siberia after they made an emergency landing. He survived and was systematically brainwashed and interrogated for years. The KGB eventually convinced Luger he was a Russian aerospace engineer, and he worked to advance the state of the art of Russian stealth warplane technology by several years. After he was rescued, it took three years of intense psychotherapy to return him to normal.
'She's alive, Dave,' Patrick said earnestly.
'You don't know that, Muck.'
'I said she's alive!'
'Patrick, I'm not going to argue with you,' David said. 'I will help you tear that country apart to find her. But I will not let you risk your life or any of the team's lives to go in to attempt a rescue unless we get some hard intelligence information.'
'You telling me she's not worth it, Dave?'
'Fuck you, General,' Luger snapped. 'I'm thinking like a soldier-it's about time you start doing the same. You tell me, Muck-how many lives is worth Wendy's? Yours? Three? Five? Ten? Fifty?'
'We risked a couple dozen to get you out of Fisikous in Lithuania,' Patrick said. 'I would've brought a thousand more with me if I could.'
'But you had hard intelligence on where I was,' Luger reminded him. 'Without that information, wearing that battle armor and marching into an armed fortress like Libya would be suicide even for a hundred commandos. And
