Wings of Fire pm-10

by Dale Brown

  Thorn paused, letting the caustic remark wash over and past him; then: "But… the United States will not interfere militarily in the affairs of sovereign nations, Mrs. Salaam. We are not a police force-you can't dial 911 and get an American aircraft carrier battle group to protect you because a deal you made goes south.

  "We will discuss and analyze the situation there, Mrs. Salaam, and we'll decide on a course of action," Thorn said. "But I suggest you give the man what he wants until you have the backing of your fellow Arab nations and can rally enough support to counteract his threats."

  "I don't believe you would actually turn your back on Egypt, Mr. President," Susan said. "You would actually stand back and watch as Libya destroys Africa's largest oil field and kills tens of thousands of innocent workers, when all it would take is to sail a few ships through the Gulf of Sidra and show him that you disapprove of his threat? What kind of superpower leader are you?"

  "A superpower that shouldn't need to throw its military weight around to promote peace, Madame Salaam," Thorn said. "Peace comes in many different packages and for many different prices, Madame. You appear to be too proud to give in to Idris's threats, but not proud enough to ask the United States to invade Libya and kill its leader. This is a situation I'd rather not have the United States involved in. Once we learn more about the situation and have had time to confer, we'll contact you if we feel we can be of help.

  "But again, I suggest you think about saving lives and give Idris or Zuwayy or whatever his real name is whatever he wants. From what you said, he's still willing to pay for the shares of the partnership-you just need to take the money out of his earnings over a period of time. Why not agree to that for now? You all continue to pump oil and make money: Most importantly, everyone lives."

  "Thank you for your suggestion, Mr. President," Salaam said sarcastically. "It must be a great comfort to you, giving sage advice from six thousand miles away, from the safety of your continent and your bombers and missile shield."

  "I wish you luck, Madame President," Thorn said. But the call had already been terminated by then.

  Kercheval shook his head. "Ouch," he said. "That had to hurt." But Thomas Thorn looked fairly unperturbed-he went back to his computer and started to make notes about the conversation. "You're really not going to do anything, Mr. President?" he asked incredulously. "You're not going to reposition the fleet?"

  "I'm going to do what I said I'd do, Edward-I'm going to ask for an independent assessment of the situation, get some satellites repositioned over there to keep an eye on things, and when we have our own take on what's really going on, I'll make a decision," Thorn said as he typed. "But no, I'm not going to send any ships anywhere near there. Robert's right-it's too dangerous. They're likely to be caught in the crossfire."

  "That 'crossfire' could be a nuclear war" Kercheval said. "If Salaam is correct, tens of thousands of lives could be lost."

  "I'm aware of that, Edward," Thorn said. "But my problem is not to go rushing in and risk American lives in a fight we didn't start and one in which we don't know what's going on. I'll direct CIA to brief me on the current political situation in Egypt and Libya; I'll get Justice to brief me on the situation with that oil partnership; and I'll get Robert to brief me on the military situation and the threat to our forces in the Med. Until then, I'll direct all U.S. forces to stay away from the area, and I'm directing you to issue a warning to all American citizens not to travel to Egypt-in case there are any Americans still in Egypt, after what happened in Mersa Matruh."

  Edward Kercheval shook his head in undisguised disbelief. "I'll get right on it, Mr. President," he said, and he departed. There was no secret of their almost continual policy disagreements-their debates, sometimes emerging as outright contradictions, were legendary. But their disagreements served two purposes: One, that Thomas Thorn didn't hire yes-men to serve him in his Cabinet; and second, it showed that Thorn was firmly in charge. Edward Kercheval was considered one of the world's most respected political and foreign affairs experts-and for him to continue to serve under Thomas Thorn, a relative foreign affairs rookie, was a sideways tribute to both Kercheval's and the President's personal integrity. No one understood how it worked, but it did.

  After he departed, Goff looked at his longtime friend and waited for him to say something; when he didn't, and the aggravation factor built up to the point he couldn't contain it any longer, he asked, "So, what are you really going to do, Thomas?"

  "I already said what I want done."

  "You're really going to do nothing? What if Libya really does attack Egypt? Could we stand the political heat and world condemnation if we received a credible warning directly from the Egyptian president but did nothing?"

  "I'm not doing 'nothing.' I'm going to independently assess the situation…"

  "I heard what you said. But you're not going to call Zuwayy? You don't want to position a few more bombers over in the region, say, in England or Diego Garcia?"

  "No."

  Goff nodded knowingly and smiled. "I get it. You want me to find out where McLanahan and his forces aremaybe give them a heads-up?"

  "I especially don't want you to do that," Thorn said firmly. "In fact, I'm going to direct the Justice Department to shut Sky Masters down. I want all their planes grounded. And if McLanahan and the Night Stalkers are in the country, which I believe they are right now, I want them detained."

  "You're serious?" Goff asked incredulously. "You really don't want to get involved in this thing at all, no matter how covertly we try or no matter how much it might cost you politically?" '"

  'That's right," Thorn said. "You know, Bob, I'm really impressed with McLanahan and his bunch. They got their teeth knocked in pretty good from what we can tell, and they still fought like badgers. Their aircraft acquitted themselves pretty well, if all the reports about attacked Libyan bases and destroyed airfields are all attributed to them.

  "But that's precisely the reason we need to put a muzzle on them: They're too good. They did so well that Zuwayy of Libya might attack Egypt with nuclear weapons. That's why we need to shut him down. Unless I can somehow bring him and his people under control again, he's got to be shut down."

  "That's easy," Goff said with a wry smile. "Ask him to join your Cabinet. Make him your national security adviser. Make him defect from Martindale's team and join yours."

  "You're my national security adviser, Robert-I don't need another one."

  "I'm not your national security adviser, Thomas-I'm your national security nudjen," Goff said. "I haven't told you a thing in twenty years. You need a guy like McLanahan to tell you when you're wrong."

  "I want McLanahan in jail, Robert, not in the White House," Thomas Thorn said stonily. "He's a loose cannon. I want him shut down and shut off."

  "O-kay," Goff said. "So… that means you're not going to ring him up on your little subcutaneous walkie-talkie, then?" Thorn scowled at him, then turned back to his computer. Goff smiled and got up to leave.

  "I'll be very interested," the President said as Goff was leaving, "to find out whom Susan Salaam calls next."

  Goff paused, then nodded. "Yeah… me too," he said. "Me too."

  AKRANES, ICELAND A FEW HOURS LATER

  "Well, well," Pavel Kazakov said. His initial anger at being awakened in the middle of the night vanished in an instant.

  "Madame Susan Bailey Salaam, the esteemed president of Egypt, calling me personally? I'm flattered."

  "Let's cut to the chase, Kazakov," Susan said angrily. "We all know you are the puppet master behind Jadallah Zuwayy. He got the neutron weapons from you; you've been arming him with hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of weapons over the past several months; you talked him into blowing up Mersa Matruh… "

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Madame," Kazakov said. "I'm a prisoner, a witness for the United Nations, not an arms dealer."

  "I said, let's cut to the chase," Susan said. "Zuwayy wants his filthy claws in Salimah-but so do you. Yo
u want back into the world oil game, and Salimah is your latest target. Fine. Help me stop Zuwayy, and you can have Salimah."

  Pavel Kazakov was fully awake now. He buzzed for Ivana Vasilyeva, his aide. "I'm listening, Mrs. Salaam."

  "Shut down Zuwayy-I don't care how," Susan said. "Order him, bribe him, kill him-it doesn't matter to me, just stop him from blowing up my oil fields and killing the workers. You take Zuwayy's shares."

  "What will that give me? Thirty percent of a graveyard in the Sahara?"

  "Not thirty-sixty percent of Salimah," Susan said. "Because if you do this, I'll buy out the Central African Petroleum Partners cartel and turn over their share of the partnership to you. I remind you, Mr. Kazakov, that Salimah represents the largest known oil reserves in all of Africa. Zuwayy only wants to rape it or destroy it, not develop it. You're smarter than he is. Shut him down, and you can have a majority stake in the biggest known oil reserves in the world west of the Caspian."

  Pavel Kazakov was virtually shaking with anticipation. This was exactly what he was hoping for when he first struck this deal with Jadallah Zuwayy: a way to take control of Salimah without appearing to take control of anything. John D. Rockefeller once said that the key to wealth was "own nothing, control everything"-that's exactly what Kazakov wanted.

  '"I'll try to stop Zuwayy, my dear Susan Bailey Salaam," Kazakov said. "But even if that ridiculous pig gets off a few shots, you will agree to this deal with me. You will ensure that a majority of shares in the partnership is transferred to me, and I'll see to it that Zuwayy moves to that ranch in Vietnam he's always wanted."

  "You keep Zuwayy from attacking Salimah, or the deal's off."

  "Madame, I'm not in Libya-I'm not Zuwayy's wet nurse," Kazakov said. "You're the one with the American white knights coming to your rescue-why not call on them to save you again?"

  "If bombs fall on Salimah, Kazakov, the deal's off."

  "If you try to cancel this deal, Salaam, I'll send a transcript of this conversation to every media outlet in the world-see how long your popularity in the Arab world lasts then," Kazakov said. "On the other hand, you give me what I want, and I'll make Zuwayy and his goons heel. Count on it."

  There was silence on the line for several long moments; then: "I guess I have no choice. But I want Zuwayy out of the picture. No more threats from him."

  "I'll make you a side deal, Mrs. Salaam-you give me the white knights, and I'll serve you up Jadallah Zuwayy."

  "What?"

  "You give me the Americans, the ones in the electronic battle armor, the ones with the fancy electromagnetic guns and the jump boots, and you can take control of the entire Muslim Brotherhood. Zuwayy will be a traitor to all loyal Arabs, and you slide right in as the leader of the Muslim world."

  "I can't do that if Salimah gets wiped out."

  "I can't help that," Kazakov said. "But if he does attack Salimah, he'll be slamming the lid shut on his own coffin. You, on the other hand, will have every bit of the power you want. You just have to give me the Tin Man."

  "How am I supposed to do thai:?"

  "You're a very beautiful, beguiling woman-you figure it out," Kazakov said. "I wouldn't be surprised if they're on their way to save you right this minute. If they come back to rescue you, all you have to do is tell me."

  There was more silence on the phone-but it was shorter this time: "All right," Susan said. "Do everything you can to stop Zuwayy, and I'll do everything I can to bring you McLanahan."

  "McLanahan, you say?" Kazakov asked incredulously. "That's his name? McLanahan?"

  "General Patrick McLanahan."

  Kazakov searched his memory. He had heard of that name before… where was it?

  My God… he remembered where he had heard that name. The prisoners… the prisoners that he had ordered Zuwayy to segregate from the others before they were taken to their deaths in Mersa Matruh. One of the American prisoners still being held by Jadallah Zuwayy in Libya was a woman by the name of McLanahan. That was too much of a coincidence. It had to be the same… a relative? Certainly not a sister or wife? This seemed too good to be true!

  "Why is that name important to you, Kazakov?" Susan asked. "Why.do you sound so…?" And then she stopped-she knew exactly why. "You have her," Salaam said breathlessly. "No, not you.. Zuwayy. Zuwayy has the woman named McLanahan."

  "Who is she?"

  "She is your death sentence if Patrick McLanahan finds out she's alive," Salaam said. "She's the reason he's fighting this battle-just to get her back. You're a captive in a fancy Icelandic jail-you're easy to get to. I guarantee, Patrick will move heaven and earth to get to her-and he'll destroy an entire nation if she's harmed."

  "Call this General McLanahan off," Kazakov said, his voice fairly shaking with anger. "I don't care how you do it, but call him off. Threaten him, entice him, screw himI don't care."

  "So he's worth something to you, then?"

  "Don't try to dicker with me, woman. I can get McLanahan on my own time."

  "You don't sound so sure to me-if you could get him, I imik you would have done it by now," Susan said. "Perhaps I should tell him that you ordered her execution, and you'll find yourself ripped into pieces by him. I assume you've seen his powered exoskeleton and electronic shock weapons in action? Don't think your lawyers will stop him."

  The "powered exoskeleton" was a new one for Pavel Kazakov-it made his already fearsome battle armor sound even more fearsome. "All right, all right" Kazakov shouted. He thought quickly. There was an opportunity here-but Salaam had to play along. What did she want? What was her overriding desire? Certainly not this general.. "Here's the deal, Madame," Kazakov said. "You convince McLanahan not to attack us anymore. You keep the sixty percent majority ownership of Salimah, the Central African Petroleum Partners keep their thirty percent, and I'll take the remaining ten percent for myself."

  "You cannot give me something that I already own, Kazakov," Salaam said. "Zuwayy extorted Egypt for twenty percent of Salimah, yet he has done nothing but threaten his neighbors and waste your money-and now he's put your very life in danger. He is a psychopathic killer with delusions of grandeur. He thinks he's a Libyan king, yet his henchmen are stealing money from their treasury as if it's free for the taking. Why do you support him?"

  "Because he controls an organization that potentially controls forty-five percent of the world's oil reserves," Kazakov replied. "What is it you control? What do you-?"

  And then he stopped. He remembered the recent items in the news, the rallies, the editorials on this beautiful, opportunistic, charismatic woman-they were calling her the "next Cleopatra." Could this work…?

  "Are you still there, Kazakov? We'd better come to an agreement soon."

  "Of course," Kazakov went on. "I know just what might change your mind."

  "Oh, really? It had better be good-for your sake."

  "Everyone calls you the reincarnation of Cleopatra, an empress of the new United Arab Republic…" He paused, and he noticed that she did not rebuff him-interesting reaction! "Why don't we make you… an emperor?"

  "What are you blathering about, Kazakov?"

  "The next Muslim Brotherhood Unity Congress, to be held in Tripoli," Kazakov said. "You will attend-and you will be elected president of the Muslim Brotherhood."

  Again, Kazakov noticed, no rebuke, no derision-she was not only listening, but considering the thought as well! Finally-much too late-she asked, "What are you talking about, Kazakov? How can you do this?"

  "Madame, do you really think the Muslim Brotherhood would even exist without my support?" Kazakov asked. "Zuwayy is president of the Brotherhood because I give him the money to bribe the other members into voting for him. With him, it is a meaningless title-he doesn't care at all about Muslims or brotherhood, only money. But you…"

  "I am not Muslim, Kazakov."

  "But you were on the verge of becoming Muslim, Madame-the world knows this," Kazakov said. "I know you have worshiped with your husband; I know you have taken the baths,
read and studied the Quran, fasted during Ramadan, and given the zakah, the poor-due-I believe you even registered yourself as a Muslim so you could accompany your husband on the Hadj, the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina. All you need to do, from what I know about converting to Islam, is publicly give the Shahada, the testament of faith. Besides, this whole Muslim Brotherhood thing is one of Zuwayy's concoctions to make himself look good and increase his perceived power. You have a thousand times more charm, charisma, and leadership qualities than he does. You would captivate the world, Susan."

  "This… this would never work, Kazakov. You know nothing about it."

  "I know I can turn the Muslim Brotherhood away from Zuwayy-I can expose him as an impostor, a pretender," Kazakov said. "With a little cash and the right information dropped here and there, I can destroy him without hardly lifting a finger. This paves the way for you to take over the Muslim Brotherhood. But with you controlling Salimah, you would be more than just a figurehead-you would be a true leader, a true savior. An empress."

  Another long pause-she was actually considering it. Man, Kazakov thought, the one thing more powerful than money just had to be vanity.

  "And all I have to do…?"

  "Tell McLanahan to stay out of Africa," Kazakov said. "Tell your boyfriend and his bombers not to interfere with our operations again. You give me a taste of Salimah-just ten percent. Then you and I will talk about your future… as the leader of the United Arab Republic."

  There was another pause, but much shorter this time. "Not one bomb falls on Egypt, Kazakov," Susan Bailey Salaam said, "or the deal's off. Destroy Zuwayy. Destroy him."

  "Yes… Empress," Kazakov said. He hung up, stood up, and had to bite a knuckle to keep his excitement in check. Ivana Vasilyeva looked at him strangely as she entered the room. "For a moment there, Madame Salaam," he said half aloud, "I thought you cared for this McLanahan. I guess everything-and everyone-has a price and a value."

  "What is it, Comrade?" Vasilyeva asked.

  "You've got your orders now-you're going to Libya," he told her. "Get close to Zuwayy, report on his every move, find out where he's keeping any American prisoners, and get ready to kill that pig."