Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 10 (22 page)

           
“Are you in charge of the Egyptian
government now?”

           
“No,” Susan replied. “Prime
Minister Kalir automatically takes control of the government upon the
incapacitation or ... or dea . .. death .. . of. . .” Suddenly, Susan broke
down in tears. She half turned away from Patrick, sobbing uncontrollably. She
realized it was the first time she had wept for her husband.

 
          
Susan
felt strong hands on her shoulders, and she looked up and saw the armored
commando holding her—he had set the big, strange-looking gun down on the deck
and was holding her as tenderly as his armored hands would allow. She turned
toward him and was surprised to see tears unabashedly flowing down his cheeks
as well. She clutched his body, wanting more than anything to touch human
flesh, and finally reached up to touch his face and his tears.

           
“My husband was murdered, butchered
in a mosque on one of the holiest days in all of Islam,” Susan said through her
sobs. “I was beside him until I was pulled away by Zuwayy of Libya and Khalid
al-Khan, the chief justice of our supreme court. I know they were in on it
together. I know they conspired to kill my husband. Only al-Khan had the
authority to switch the guards and get the assassins so close to Kamal. I want
to see them both pay for what they’ve done.”

 
          
“My
... my brother was killed in the attack on Samah,” she heard him say through
his tears. “He sacrificed himself to destroy those missiles. Then ... then when
the Libyan warships attacked, we abandoned ship—but my wife stayed behind to
launch an attack on the Libyan guided missile frigate.”

 
          
“Your
wife
?” Susan asked incredulously.
“You ...
you lost your brother and your
wife
on this mission? My God...”

 
          
“I
believe my wife is still alive—I don’t know how or why I know, but she is still
alive,” Patrick said. “I will search every square inch of
Libya
until I find her.” He raised his right hand
and clenched his armored right hand into a fist. “And I will kill anyone who
gets in my way.”

 
          
“How...
how horrible. How utterly horrible,” Susan breathed. She placed her fingers on
his cheek to turn him toward her. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I
don’t know if I have any authority left in this country—I may be as much of a
target here as you are in
Libya
. General Baris may be appointed as the
national security adviser to the new president. If the
mullahs
take control of the government as we fear, he will not only
be dismissed, but probably imprisoned or murdered. But as long as we have any
authority left in
Egypt
, you and your men may stay aboard this vessel. But for your own safety,
you should leave as soon as possible. If you need help, just ask.”

 
          
Patrick
thought about Wendy, and he thought about how lonely and isolated he felt
standing on this Egyptian warship in Egyptian waters, surrounded by the
Egyptian navy. He had no plan, and his options were rapidly decreasing. There
was nothing they could do. “I understand,” he said. “All we’ll need is a
shuttle to shore and access to a landing strip for our transport aircraft. By
tonight, we’ll be gone.”

           
“You shall have anything you need.”
Susan motioned to the briefcase beside her. “That briefcase contains data CDs
of all the latest intelligence info we have on all of the Mediterranean states.
Some of it is only hours old. Photos, field reports, overhead imagery, radio
intercepts, everything we could gather. It should help you find your wife and
your missing men.” He realized he was still grasping her shoulders, and he
started to move them away, but she took his armored gauntlets and held them to
her, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for what you’ve done for
Egypt
,” she said. “I’m sorry for the sacrifices
you’ve made for our country.”

 
          
“Where
will you go now, Susan?”

           
Susan sighed. “Go to
Cairo
to bury my husband.”

           
“I think that would be very
dangerous.”

           
“I must,” she said. “It’s my last
duty as first lady of
Egypt
. After that, I can start planning my own
future.”

           
“What will you do?”

           
“I don’t know. The
United States
might be the only place my husband’s
enemies can’t touch me.” She paused, then looked at Patrick. “And you? Will you
go home as well?”

 
          
“I
don’t believe in leaving before the fighting’s over,” Patrick replied. “If my
wife is alive, I’ll find her. If she’s dead, I’ll make the Libyans sorry they
ever decided to launch those attack planes.”

 
          
“What
do you intend to do?”

           
“I can’t hope to use overhead
imagery to find her, and there are too many bases she could have been taken
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 indeed 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.”