scared the living shit out of him?'
'Maybe. How do you know about that?'
'Zuwayy's men blabbed it all over open channels all last night-you couldn't shut it off,' Sanusi said. 'I think your impromptu nose job improved his looks. And of course, we saw your fireworks show from twenty miles away. Very impressive. Some of my radar outposts picked up traces of an aircraft still orbiting west of here-your air support, I gather?'
'We came close to taking out your men here with our air support.'
'Unless you have EMP-proof radios, I doubt it,' Sanusi said dryly. 'We lost contact with all our patrols the instant that device went off. God in heaven, I always suspected Zuwayy had nukes, but I never thought he'd be stupid enough to actually use them.'
'You don't talk like an Arab, Your Highness.'
'Oh, I can talk Arab just fine when I need to,' Sanusi said. 'But I've lived in the States for the past five years, and I picked up the lingo pretty well.' He held out his canteen to Patrick. 'Can you drink water through that thing?'
'Yes,' Patrick said-but then he disconnected his helmet, pulled it off, and accepted the canteen. 'But I prefer not to.' He grimaced at the canteen.
'Don't worry-it's purified,' Sanusi said. 'I've lived in the States too long to drink the local water, especially from the oases. I may be the sword of vengeance of the Sahara, but the worst my stomach can handle is L. A. tap water. My men can drink month-old camel piss dug out of a hole in the desert if they had to, but not me. I've got plenty of purification tablets in there.' Patrick took a deep swig, then handed it back. 'What's your name?'
'McLanahan. Patrick McLanahan.'
'Good Irish name,' Sanusi said. 'Who are you guys?
Where do you get all that firepower? U.S. Army Special Forces? Delta Force? Navy SEALs?'
'None of the above.'
'Ah. Some supersecret commando job, contracted by the CIA or something,' Sanusi said, taking a drink. When Patrick did not reply, Sanusi merely shrugged. 'My men will find out eventually. We have spies everywhere, and neither the Egyptians nor the Libyans can keep a secretthey all think once you get out into the desert, no one can hear you. I heard a report that the lovely Mrs. Salaam and General Baris had been meeting with some special infantry teams at Mersa Matruh-I assume that's you. Good thing you got out when you did.'
'Some of our guys were not so lucky.'
'The prisoner exchange,' Sanusi said, nodding. 'I heard. I'm sorry, Patrick. So it was you guys in on that raid at Samah that started this whole mess.'
'We didn't start it-but we mean to finish it,' Patrick said ominously.
'I'm sure you guys are tough-and you're going to have to be, to go up against Zuwayy and his troops,' Sanusi said. 'They've got some mean-looking shit all of a sudden-new Russian weapons, armor, rockets, aircraft, the works, hundreds of millions of dollars' worth. Zuwayy's either been investing some of the money he and his cronies have been ripping off from the Libyan treasury and buying weapons on the international arms market with it, or he's got a wealthy new Russian sponsor.'
That last comment set off nightmarish explosions in Patrick's head, but he ignored the warning bells for the moment. 'We could use your help to get back to Cairo.'
'Cairo? What in hell do you want to go back there for?' Sanusi asked in surprise. 'I thought you said you were escapees from Mersa Matruh.'
'We were being held there during the prisoner exchange so we wouldn't interfere.'
'Oh really? You sure it wasn't so they'd be sure to fry you just like your friends?' Sanusi noticed Patrick's face blanch and harden to stone, and he put a hand on Patrick's shoulder. 'I'm sorry, McLanahan. You lost some of your men in that explosion, I know.'
Even though Patrick was beginning to trust this man, he still did not feel like elaborating. 'Egypt is wide open for attack. We can help stop Zuwayy until the rest of the world organizes a defense against him.'
'What makes you think they will?' Sanusi asked. 'Who will lead them-Thomas Nathaniel Thorn, the so-called leader of the free world? He's too busy having seances so he can communicate with the spirit of Thomas Jefferson.
'Patrick, no one cares about Libya or Egypt-all they care about is the oil,' Muhammad Sanusi said. 'It's been that way since the Brits discovered oil here. The world will deal with anyone who will sell oil to them-they don't care if it's Salaam, Zuwayy, Khan, or Bozo the Clown. And when the oil runs out, the world will turn its back on this entire continent. All Arabs know the score, PatrickI'm surprised you don't. Do you really believe you're here fighting for justice or to protect the weak? You're here because of the oil-how to get it, how to keep it coming. I don't care who your employer or commander is-you're here because of the oil. Am I right, my friend?'
Patrick didn't answer-he didn't have to. King Idris the Second, the true king of Libya, nodded knowingly. 'You want to fight for Susan Bailey Salaam? Well, I don't blame you-she is definitely one hot babe, even after taking one in the face in Cairo.' He paused for a moment; then: 'Sure is lucky she survived that blast, wasn't it?' Patrick said nothing-he couldn't, because he didn't know anything about her or the incident at the mosque. 'You're sure you want to do this?'
'I'm sure.'
'Okay. But I still contend: Why go back to Cairo? That's where the action's going to be soon. Either Zuwayy will chew it to pieces with his army, or it'll collapse under the pressure of its own loss of identity. Why would you, an American, hang around for that?'
'You gotta fight for something.'
'Sure you do. Home, family, God. I'm out here in the
Sahara with my men instead of back at The Resort at Squaw Creek up in Lake Tahoe or my three-bedroom suite that my buddy Mohammed al Fayed owns at the Hotel Bel Air because Qadhafi chased my family out of our own country, and Zuwayy is busy raping what's left.' Then he stopped and looked knowingly at Patrick. 'Unless you've already lost those things-then you fight for whatever captures your heart-or your soul. Has Susan Bailey Salaam done that for you, Mr. McLanahan?' Patrick did notcould not-answer.
Muhammad as-Sanusi looked carefully at Patrick; then, apparently noticing something in the man's face, he smiled and winked. 'Man, you are one out-of-place dude,' he said. 'I'm not sure exactly where you're supposed to be, but it is not here in the desert, wearing metal pajamas and carrying a Buck Rogers space gun.' Again, Patrick couldn't respond. 'Whatever. I still think it would be suicidal for you and your men to go back to Cairo or anywhere in Egypt. But I have the perfect place. If you agree to work with me and my soldiers, I'll bring you there and you guys can set up and work there.'
'Where is this place?'
'Not far. About a half-day drive, assuming we don't run into any patrols.' He looked at Chris and Hal, still in their battle armor, smiled that boyish smile again, then added, 'But I think we can probably handle any patrols we run across out here. Let's go.'
'You have a base right on the Egyptian-Libyan border that's secure from Zuwayy and his troops?'
'I didn't until today,' Sanusi said with a chuckle. 'Min fadlak. Let's go.'
They hadn't moved far before alarms started going off in the Tin Man battle armor. 'Radiation warning, Muck,' Hal Briggs reported.
'How convenient-radiation detectors in that armor,' Sanusi said to Briggs. 'You must tell me all about that system. My men and I might be in the market for a few dozen.' He turned to Patrick. 'The Libyans are broadcasting that the Zionists set off an American nuclear device at Jaghbub,' he said, 'to kill Zuwayy. Did you have such a device?'
'You know we didn't,' Patrick replied.
Sanusi just smiled. 'But all of Libya and most of the world believe this is so,' Sanusi said. 'It'll make Libya's next move easier to justify.'
'The invasion of Egypt?'
'Well, I think that's pretty obvious,' Sanusi said. 'The question for you is: What's the objective?'
'You said it yourself: oil.'
'Libya has oil. Lots of it.'
'Then Libya either wants more, or it wants to control what it doesn't have-or destroy it.'
