The phone calls started shortly thereafter. The first one, which Patrick let the answering machine pick up, was from former President of the United States Kevin Martindale. 'I heard you were back in town, Patrick. Call me right away.' The second call was also from Martindale just ten minutes later; Patrick again did not answer. By the third call, Patrick had shut off the ringer.
After a one-hour nap, Bradley came into th e living room, biting his red blanket. He had given up his blankets almost a year earlier, calling them silly and childish. Patrick had cut up all but one of them, making little kid handkerchiefs out of them, but Wendy had insisted on keeping one intact, the red one, his favorite. Patrick hadn't seen it in many months; he didn't know how Bradley found it, but he did, and he held it tightly against his face and chest as he walked into the room. 'Hi, big guy,' Patrick greeted his son.
'Where's Mommy?' he asked, his voice muffled by the blanket.
'Mommy's not here, Bradley,' Patrick said, choking down yet another lump in his throat. He wondered where his glass of Grand Marnier was right now. 'We're going to look for her soon, remember?'
'I want my mommy,' Bradley said tearfully.
'I know, big guy. Don't worry. Everything will be okay.' Patrick rose to go hug his son, but Bradley ran back to his room and closed the door. When Patrick went inside, he found him curled up in the middle of the floor. Oh, shit…
He picked him up and held him tightly. Bradley wasn't crying; he bit his blanket and stared straight ahead, hardly blinking. Scared, Patrick went back to the living room and held him until, thankfully, he fell asleep again, and then carried him into his bedroom and put him under the covers, on Wendy's side of the bed.
Patrick stayed with him and waited to see if Bradley would wake up soon for dinner, but his heavy breathing told him he was down for the night, so Patrick took his shoes and clothes off and tucked him under the covers once again. Patrick usually did not allow Bradley to sleep in his bed-'big boys sleep in their own beds,' he would often admonish his son-but tonight, having him sleep anywhere else was completely out of the question.
He didn't usually drink when caring for Bradley, but this time he poured himself a stiff shot of the orange liqueur and went out to the patio. These past few days were simply hell, he thought. If Bradley started going to pieces, he would too-it was as simple as that.
'Muck, we're on our way up,' he heard Hal Briggs call on the subcutaneous microtransceiver. 'Feel like some company?'
'Sure.' A few minutes later, Hal Briggs, along with Chris Wohl and David Luger, let themselves into Patrick's condo. They found seats in the living room; Patrick knew they wanted to talk business, which was why he did not go outside again.
'You drinking that sissy stuff again, Muck?' Hal asked. Patrick did not reply. Hal found something he liked in the liquor cabinet; David and Chris did not drink. 'How are you doin', man?' Still no answer.
A few quiet minutes later, they heard crying from the bedroom. Patrick shot to his feet to go check on Bradley, but Chris Wohl silently waved him back to his seat, and he went inside to check on him. He saw Wohl carry Bradley to the kitchen, give him a glass of milk, and start fixing him a fried bologna and cheese sandwich on toast, Wohl's favorite meal. Briggs and Luger stayed behind with Patrick in the living room.
'Big bad-ass Marine is really a sucker when it comes to kids,' Briggs observed.
'President Martindale's been calling,' Dave Luger said to Patrick.
'I know.'
'He's worried about you.'
'Like hell he is. He just wants to know when we're ready to go back out there.'
Luger couldn't argue with that observation. 'Fair enough-but I'm worried about you,' Luger said, 'and I want to know when we're going back out there to look for Wendy.'
'As soon as my son stops crying himself to sleep,' Patrick replied bitterly. Again, Luger had no reply for that.
'Been watching the news?'
'No.'
'Susan Bailey Salaam was elected president of Egypt,' Hal Briggs said. 'She's got the Libyans, Sudanese, Syrians, Lebanese, Iranians, Iraqis, Jordanis, and Saudis cheering for her like she's some kind of rock star.'
''Good for her.'
'There's talk of another United Arab Republic,' Luger added. 'Egypt and Syria merged for a few years back in the late fifties and early sixties under Nasser-they're saying that Susan Salaam might be able to unify the entire Arab world.'
Now Patrick's interest was piqued a bit. 'Interesting. So I'll bet Martindale is calling because the Central African Petroleum Partnership called….'
'Exactly-wanting to know if we're going to stay on the case,' Briggs said.
'What's going on out there?'
'Salaam has brought Libya in as a partner in the cartel, for starters,' Luger said.
'Libya? Partnered up with Egypt?'
'Hey, they're all huggy and kissy lately,' Briggs said. 'Egypt is giving out work visas to Libyans and Sudanese to work in Salimah like crazy-almost ten thousand persons have migrated to Salimah in just the past few days. There's already talk of Sudan, Syria, and Jordan joining the oil partnership.'
'Sounds like Egypt decided to trade jobs for peace,' Patrick observed. 'Good move.'
'And so far it's paying off big-time,' Luger said. 'Not only are they not fighting, but they're praising and cooperating with each other unlike anything anyone's ever seen.'
'So Egypt becomes the new center of the Arab world,' Patrick mused.
'Makes sense,' Luger said. 'Egypt is by far more powerful than any of the other countries, and they're more centrally located and strategically important, with the Suez Canal and the Salimah oil fields. They have strong ties to the Muslim world, the African world, Europe, and the West all at the same time.'
'And, last but not least, Egypt has Susan Bailey Salaam-they're calling her the reincarnation of Cleopatra,' Hal Briggs added. 'She was elected in a landslide and cheered in eight different African and Middle East capitals the night of her election. It's pretty amazing to watch. Less than a month ago she had almost gotten herself blown up and was on the run, being hunted down by assassins-now, she's not only president, but being considered the up- andcoming leader of the whole freakin' Arab world.'
'And naturally, the Central African Petroleum Partners are not happy with this arrangement-right?'
'You got it,' Luger said. 'Egypt is the majority partner, and Salaam has been allowing more Arab and African workers in to work at Salimah, displacing the Asians and Europeans.'
'And with the price of oil hitting new highs, all those folks are getting mighty rich,' Briggs added.
'Speaking of which.' David Luger held out three envelopes. 'Wire-transfer receipts: our payment from the Central African Petroleum Partners. Paul made you executor of his estate.'
Patrick looked at the receipts in the envelopes, closed his eyes, then dropped them on a table. 'It's a lot of money,' he said softly. 'But was it worth it, guys?' he asked.
'It's never worth it when you take losses, man,' Briggs said. 'But we all volunteered. We're all doin' what we want to be doin'.' He looked carefully at Patrick; then: 'Aren't we?'
Patrick did not-could not-answer.
Jon Masters found Kelsey Duffield at a computer workstation in the research library, sound asleep, with a blanket thrown over her shoulders. Her mother, Cheryl, was asleep in a chair in a corner of the room, but awoke immediately when Jon entered-and she did not look happy.
'I've been looking for you guys. Your phones are off,' Jon whispered.
'Kelsey has been working all night-she refused to leave,' Cheryl said. 'She's been on the phone to scientists and laboratories all over the world. I finally had to shut it off-we had no chance of getting any rest otherwise.' She awakened her daughter and told her to go to the bathroom. Kelsey walked out, rubbing her eyes and shuffling along like kids who just woke up do.
'Poor kid. She's a trouper, that's for sure.'
''Trouper'? She's being overworked-and I'd say this verges on abuse,' Cheryl said angrily. 'Keeping her locked
