to,' Patrick said. 'So I'm going to go right to the source. I'm going to make Zuwayy an offer he can't refuse.' He looked at her, then added, 'Seems to me you have some fighting of your own left to do.'
'Fighting?'
'Someone killed your husband and tried to kill you, Susan,' Patrick said. He looked into her eyes deeply, carefully, as if deciding if what he was about to say was accurate; then: 'You're a soldier. No one would blame you if you got away-but something tells me it's not entirely in your nature to run.'
'What do you suggest-soldier to soldier?'
He did not contradict her guess, but looked at her carefully, with a steady stare, and replied, 'Find out who your allies and fellow soldiers are. Assemble and organize your forces, then evaluate: If your forces are superior, fight; if inferior, run, preserve your forces; if equal, stay on the move and harass the enemy.'
'Sun-Tzu. Basic combat doctrine,' Susan said with a nod and a thin smile. 'I've been a politician's wife for so long I've almost forgotten how to be a soldier. But I don't have an army, and soon I probably won't have a country. Survival seems to be the best option.' She paused. 'Perhaps I can talk with the National Democratic Party officials, lend any support I can to our party's candidate for president. Dr. Kalir, the prime minister, will certainly run. The chief justice of the Egyptian Supreme Court, Ulama al-Khan, will run as well-he is the danger, the one who wants to turn Egypt into a theocracy and align it with the Muslim Brotherhood states. He has the power to do it, too.'
'Sounds like a plan of action to me.'
'Thanks for the advice,' Susan said. She looked deeply into his eyes. 'Before you go-can you tell me your real name?'
He hesitated once again, the old security regime automatically kicking in again, but it dissolved just as quickly. It was time to start trusting someone again, he told himself.
'Patrick. Patrick McLanahan.'
'Chief petty officer? Colonel? Special agent..?'
Still trying to gather intelligence, Patrick noted. She needed careful watching. 'Just Patrick.'
'It is a pleasure to meet you, Just Patrick McLanahan,' Susan said with a mind-blowing smile. She reached up to kiss him on the cheek, holding her lips there long enough for him to feel a jolt of electricity course down his spine. 'Welcome to Egypt.'
About an hour later, Salaam, Baris, and Shafik disembarked from the supply vessel. They were met on the pier by Vice Marshal Ouda, the military district commander, who looked mad enough to chew nails. 'How dare you overrule my orders and approach my ship without my permission?' he shouted. 'Who do you think you are?'
'No one is undermining your authority, Vice Marshal Ouda,' Susan said. 'I thought it would help to resolve the issue if I met with the terrorists themselves.'
'And were you successful?'
'Yes.'
'Then they are surrendering?'
'On the contrary-I offered them the use of the facilities here on the base for as long as they need them.'
'Ana mish faehem! Are you insane?' Ouda exclaimed. 'Those men are terrorists! They have taken an Egyptian warship and are threatening to kill everyone on board!'
'But they have not killed anyone, and I believe they are telling the truth when they say they will not harm our men,' Susan said. 'I do not want them harmed.'
'Who are they?'
'They are commandos, mercenaries, on a mission against the Libyan government,' Susan replied. 'They destroyed several Libyan rockets that carried chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons aimed for Egypt.'
Ouda looked surprised. 'Or so they say.'
'I believe them,' Susan said. 'I repeat, Vice Marshal, I do not want them harmed when they come ashore.'
'I must report this incident and your contact with the terrorists.'
Susan turned to General Baris and said, 'There is your superior officer. You may give your report to him.' But Susan saw the skepticism, perhaps even the outright hatred, in Ouda's eyes, and quickly concluded that Ouda would in-
deed report the incident-perhaps directly to Ulama Khalid al-Khan himself. 'Have quarters near the airfield prepared for them-I'm sure they will wait until nightfall to make the move. Give them anything they require.'
'This is ridiculous,' Ouda growled. 'Giving aid and comfort to terrorists!'
'They may have saved your base from complete annihilation, Vice Marshal,' Susan said. 'You should not only be welcoming them-you should be on your knees thanking them. Now get to it.' She turned away, leaving a still very angry general officer fuming behind her.
'That was most unwise, Sekhmet,' Baris said. 'You should have played that calmly, perhaps even deferentially-included him in on what the terrorists did and who they are.'
'Men like Ouda need to be talked to, Ahmad, not with.'
'Ouda is a vice marshal and one of the highest-ranking and most highly decorated officers in the armed forces, Sekhmet,' Baris reminded her. 'I'm sure he does not approve of civilians telling him what to do on his base, especially a woman. Learn to be more diplomatic, especially when on his installation, in front of his men. He can make very, very serious trouble for us, if he chooses to do so.'
'He will be a bigger fool than even I assume he is if he tries to use this incident against us,' Susan said resolutely.
'Do not underestimate him,' Baris warned. 'And I suggest you meet with him later today and explain to him exactly what you hope to accomplish by helping those men. He may be a strutting peacock, but he is a military man-if you explain the tactical situation to him, he will be more likely to play along.' He paused, looked at his friend, and said with a wry smile, 'Perhaps you can explain it to me as well.'
'Those men have weapons, and power, and abilities that I think we do not fully comprehend,' Susan Bailey Salaam said. 'As you said, soon we will have no power at all. Perhaps there is a way we can use their power to help restore a legitimate government to Egypt-or, at the very least, help us to survive.'
CHAPTER 3
'My brothers and sisters, the danger all around us is great, and we must be strong and united,' Ulama Khalid al-Khan said in a deep, resonant voice. He was speaking before a special session of the People's Assembly, the 454 -member legislative body of the Egyptian government. As ever, Khan wore traditional Arab garments, the white jubba, quba, sirwal, and qalansuwa, even though most of the rest of the members of the People's Assembly wore Westernstyle business suits. But it was not only his clothing but his long, angular features, his carefully trimmed beard, haunting voice, and hypnotic eyes that commanded attention from all, even those who thought of holy men such as Khan as threats to freedom in Egypt.
'Our nation, our way of life, our very souls are under attack,' Khan went on, his voice growing louder and more strident by the moment. 'The horrible murder of our beloved President Salaam, may he stand at the right hand of God, is vivid proof that we are not safe and secure even within our holiest shrines and most precious places of worship. The danger is everywhere, my friends. It is time for bold leadership and unity for Misr.' Khan preferred using the traditional name for his country, rather than the foreign-derived name, Egypt.
'I know many of you do not stand with me,' Khan went on. His eyes drifted toward where he knew a large congregation of his political opponents sat. 'Although our laws are based on Shari'a, the holy book, you do not feel those laws should be strictly interpreted and applied, as I and my fellow high priests do. I am not here to debate your attitudes about how to serve God. I am here to offer to you my vision for our country.
'My goal is to stop the anarchy, stop the violence, stop the corruption of our laws, our families, our companies, and our beliefs. I believe those dangers emanate from two places: the Zionists and the Americans.' Several dozen legislators shook their heads and voiced their displeasure in carefully muted tones. 'Yes, you know it as well as I. Our nation has slipped into crushing recession and inflation ever since the traitor Sadat signed the so-
