'What? Have all of the other members endorse an American to be president ofEgyptl Are you insane?'
'Jadallah, the Muslim Brotherhood can step out of the shadows and take its place in the center of the world stage if this happens,' Hijazi argued. 'Salaam is that powerful, that well known-and after this offensive against us, she looks more and more like a defender of Egypt. We need to tap into that power-and the best way for that is to embrace her as an equal, not as a victor. Only you can make this happen. She needs this from us as much as we need Salimah, Jadallah. Do it.'
Fazani was still looking quizzically at Hijazi, still trying to figure out what his game was, but he nodded as he turned to Zuwayy. 'Let's do this, Jadallah,' he said. 'Once we have our people in Egypt and get our cut of the oil revenues, then we can set about destroying Salaam and taking over. We'll put our spies in place all over Egypt, and we'll keep an eye on every move her military forces make. We'll play her game for a while, let her think she's won- and then, when she's gotten a little fatter off the oil money, we'll stomp her once and for all.'
Zuwayy still didn't look pleased. He looked warily at both Hijazi and Fazani. 'I will not wait long for all this to happen,' he said. 'A month or two, no more. We get our concessions from Egypt, and then we move in-and Salaam dies, this time for good.'
At Amina Shafik's urging, Susan left the balcony of her Alexandria home late at night, got undressed, showered,
then stood in the steamy bathroom for several minutes, staring at the hazy reflection in the mirror. She had plenty of questions for that person in the mirror, but no answers were forthcoming.
Her eyes roamed over her wet, naked body, pausing on the still-unhealed scars from the blast that took her husband's life. Her breasts were spared, but the blast had chewed and scorched large segments of her left shoulder, arm, and hand-a few more feet closer, the doctors said, and the blast would've taken her arm. Her left eye was still intact and would require several more surgeries to get any vision at all, but the doctors warned that if the vision in her right eye started to get worse, they would have to enucleate the left eye to keep it from sympathetically damaging the right.
She was lucky to be alive, she thought. Somebody up there still likes me. It also meant that if she was still alive, her mission here on Earth was still not yet finished. But what was her mission? Was it to avenge her husband-or was it something else? It was too late, and she was too tired, to think about it any more.
Susan shook her head at the sad, scarred reflection in the mirror, mercifully shut off the bathroom light, and stepped into…
… a dark figure standing directly in front of her.
'Major! Ilha'uni!' she shouted. She swung with her right fist, but her blow was effortlessly turned away.
Behind the figure, the bedroom door burst open. Amina Shafik, crouching low behind the doorjamb with her side arm pointed inside, shouted, 'Wa 'if! Yiden ala tul! Imshi! Stop! Hands up! Move away!' But Susan felt a crackling of electricity, like stiff cellophane being crunched inside her skull, and Shafik collapsed to the floor.
'Amina!' Susan cried. She tried to rush to her bodyguard's side, thinking she was dead, but the dark figure roughly pushed her away onto the bed. 'Who are you?' Susan shouted. She hoped one of the outside guards might hear her, but they were all probably dead too. 'What do you want?'
The figure reached out and flipped on the bedroom light. To Susan's immense surprise, it was one of the American commandos, dressed for full combat in the electronic battle armor and strength-enhancing microhydraulic exoskeleton. 'Patrick? Is that you?'
Patrick McLanahan turned, lifted Shafik in his hydraulically augmented arms, carried her into her bedroom next to Susan's, and gently laid her on the bed. Susan felt the breeze blowing in off Abu Qir Bay through the bedroom patio doors and realized that Patrick had to have climbed up seventeen floors, or jumped at least a hundred feet from the nearest building, to get over to her bedroom balcony. He returned to the bedroom moments later and removed his helmet, rage blazing in his eyes.
'I thought you were dead,' Susan said, pulling on a thin, silky dressing gown.
'I thought we were going to go after the ones who killed your husband,' Patrick said. 'I thought you were going to help me find my wife and my men.'
'I am helping you.'
'By making a deal with Zuwayy to take the prisoners to Mersa Matruh and lock us up in the bunker so he could wipe us-and your political rival Khan-out with a nuclear weapon?'
'You think I had something to do with that awful attack? I'm as horrified as you are,' Susan said. 'I've been under house arrest here in Alexandria. I never heard from Zuwayy or anyone from Libya. As for Khan-I'm glad he's dead, the murderous bastard, but I had nothing to do with it. He was double-crossed by his buddy Zuwayy-why, I don't know. It's all part of Zuwayy's twisted scheme for power.'
'And you didn't bother telling me about this? We thought you had turned us all in-we got out as soon as we could.'
'You didn't bother telling me you were going after Zuwayy.'
'I told you I was going to try to recover Wendy and my men, or go after Zuwayy to force him to give them upthat was the best way I thought of doing it,' Patrick said. 'I didn't tell you because I didn't know if I could trust you. Apparently I was right.'
'So what are you doing here now?' Susan asked. 'Why risk climbing a seventeen-story building and confronting a dozen armed guards? You won't find your wife here.'
Patrick clenched his fists in anger, the flexible electronic armor in his gauntlets and exoskeleton making little humming noises. 'I'm going to go home, Susan. I've already attacked Zillah and Al-Jawf. I'm tired, and my men are tired.'
Susan's mouth dropped open in surprise. 'How can you do this? You and your men alone couldn't possibly have the power to do this.'
'It's done.' He paused, looking at her with a strange, faraway expression. 'What will you do?'
'I'm going to fight-what else do you think I'd do?' Susan replied hotly. 'I don't care if Zuwayy attacks my country and blows up my bases-I'm going to stay and fight! While my name and my dead husband's name still mean something in this country, I'm going to use them to bring peace and justice to Egypt.'
'So you can become president?'
'I want to see General Ahmad Baris made president of Egypt. He has the experience, and he is completely loyal to Egypt.' She saw Patrick imperceptibly nod his approval. She moved off the bed and stepped toward him. 'Patrick, I need your help.'
'What am I supposed to do?'
'Be my instrument of war,' Susan said. 'I can't trust anyone: not the military, not even my personal guards- Khan had them all on his payroll, and I think they're just looking for an opportunity to strike again without revealing their treason. The Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt will certainly move to assassinate me and make Egypt a theocracy. They mean to create a strong union between Egypt, Libya, and the other Muslim Brotherhood states-with Zuwayy pulling the strings. If I can uncover the plot or conspiracy to undermine the law in Egypt in favor of Libya, I can pave the way to elevate General Baris to the presidency.'
'What kind of conspiracy?'
'The conspiracy to kill my husband, for starters,' Susan said bitterly. 'I know Khan and Zuwayy were both involved. I also suspect there was some kind of conspiracy to force withdrawal of foreign oil companies from Egypt.' Susan stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his chest, looking deeply into his eyes. 'Will you help me? As the wife of a martyred president, I can offer much assistance to you.' He hesitated, his eyes staring at a spot beyond her shoulders. 'Is your mission complete? The reason you came here, the reason you attacked Libya-is it over?'
For a moment, it looked as if Patrick might crumble. His shoulders slumped, his eyes drooped, and his Adam's apple bobbed. 'Yes,' he finally responded woodenly.
'Then take on a different mission-help me uncover and remove the traitors from Egypt,' Susan said. 'Egypt is in danger of becoming another theocratic dictatorship-or, worse, a stooge of Jadallah Zuwayy. Help me stop this. Use your power for real justice, not just for a few dollars.'
He looked down at her, and she could see his eyes roam from her eyes to the wounds on her shoulder and arm, the anger in his eyes turning to empathy. She turned her eyes away from his and backed away from him. 'What's the matter?' Patrick asked.
