Corsair

take them years to recover from, if ever. Imam Al-Jama has decreed they will no longer be allowed to dictate to us how we should live our lives. The corruption they spread with their television and movies, their music, and their democracy, will no longer be allowed. Soon we will see the beginning of the end for them. They will finally understand their way of life is not for us, and that it is Islam that will take over the world. This is the honor of which Al-Jama believes you are worthy.”

“I will not let him down,” the terrorist said, his voice firm, his eyes steady.

“You are dismissed,” Hassad said, and turned back to Abdullah. “Very well done, my old friend.”

“The military training was relatively easy,” the commander said. “Keeping them true to the cause without making them appear like wild-eyed fanatics was the difficult part.”

Both men knew that countless suicide attacks had been thwarted because the perpetrators looked so nervous and out of place that even untrained civilians knew what was about to occur. And the fifty men they were sending to Tripoli today would be surrounded by legitimate security forces on full alert for the very type of attack they were attempting. They had culled through hundreds of recruits from training camps and madrasas all over the Middle East to find the right men.

Hassad glanced at his watch. “In eighteen hours, it will be over. The American Secretary of State will be dead, and the palace hall will be awash in blood. The tide of peace will once again be pushed back, and in its absence we will continue to spread our way of life.”

“As the original Suleiman Al-Jama wrote, ‘When in the struggle to keep our faith from corruption we find our will slacking, our resolve waning, our strength ebbing, we must, at that moment, make the supreme effort, and the supreme sacrifice if necessary, to show our enemies that we will never be defeated.’ ”

“I prefer another line, ‘They who do not submit to Islam are an affront to Allah and worthy only of our bullets.’ ”

“Soon they shall have them.”

“Now, why don’t you introduce me to the American woman. I have a little time before she needs to board the frigate for her date with destiny, but I would like to gaze upon her.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

C ABRILLO’S HOPE FOR A LONG BATH FILLOWING HIS RETURN to the Oregon was not meant to be. He allowed himself a quick shower only after all the prisoners had been made as comfortable as possible in the hold. He had been introduced to Libya’s ex-Foreign Minister by Fodl, who’d been his deputy. As it was nearing noon, Juan had shown him in which direction Mecca lay relative to the ship so they could all pray for the first time since their incarceration.

He was dressing when Max Hanley knocked on his cabin door and entered without waiting. In tow were Eric Stone and Mark Murphy, who still wore his filthy uniform.

On seeing Cabrillo, he said, “Man, that is totally not fair.”

“Privilege of rank,” Juan replied airily, and finished tying a pair of black combat boots. “What do you have for me?”

“They apparently bought the trick with the sinking railcar,” Max said. “They sent out a chopper to investigate about fifteen minutes after you boarded. Mark’s time estimation of it sinking was spot-on. They must have seen it seconds before it went under.”

Eric cut in. “Then I swung the UAV back over the terrorist camp. Because of the altitude I had to maintain so they wouldn’t hear it, the camera’s resolution wasn’t the best, but we have a pretty good idea of what was happening.”

“And?”

“You were right,” Max replied. “The flight of Libyan military choppers landed with no opposition. It looks like there were only a few men aboard any of them.”

“Sounds like transport back out to me,” Juan guessed.

“That’s our read, too,” Eric replied. “They’re going to be moving more men than they can carry in that old Mi-8 you flew on from the crash scene.”

“What’s the capacity of the choppers?”

“Fifty at least.”

“Hell of an assault force.”

Mark said, “The target has to be the peace conference.”

Eric Stone shook his head. “Never happen. The security is impenetrable. There is no way a terrorist is going to get within a mile of a single dignitary.”

“They would if the Libyan government’s in on it,” Max countered.

“That’s the million-dollar question. If Minister Ghami is Suleiman Al-Jama, does Qaddafi know it?”

“How could he not? He appointed him.”

“Okay, say he does, Max. That still doesn’t mean he knows what Al-Jama is planning.”

“What difference does it make?” Hanley asked.

“Maybe none, but it’s something we need to know.”

“And how do we find out?”

“I’ll get to that in a minute. Mark, is there any chance we can take out those choppers?”

“We’d need to launch another UAV,” Eric said before Mark could answer. “The first drone’s out of fuel, and I