by Dale Brown
"I have no illusions of this-Khan wants to see me
dead," Susan said. "Khan failed to do the job before, so he will ensure it's done now."
"And you somehow believe these American commandos will help you?" Baris asked. "I must tell you, Sekhmet, I think it is dangerous to have those men in Egypt. We know nothing about them. The American government obviously knew nothing about them except to tell us that they are not part of the American government whatsoever. They are privateers, former military men who now work for whoever pays them."
"Then they can work for us," Susan said. "We have no military behind us now. These men are skilled enough to take one of our warships-they can do a lot of harm to alKhan's men, possibly even to the Libyans as well."
"To what end? Do you expect them to kill al-Khan or invade Libya for you?" Baris asked. "That's a fantasy, Sekhmet. They have obviously been paid by a very wealthy individual, company, or conglomerate to perform a task. If they don't do the assigned task, they won't get paid. As soon as they've rested and gathered some intelligence information, they'll be gone-leaving you with whatever chaos they've created. I don't think you want that."
"What I want, General, is for Egypt to be free from murdering scum like al-Khan or terrorists like Zuwayy," Susan said bitterly. "I sense something in McLanahan. He is in great pain, yes-losing both his brother and his wife in so short a time must be devastating for him. If he has a child, it must make the pain even greater. But there is something else about him. I sense another conflict within him."
"He is certainly not like the others," Baris agreed. "I would guess he is a trained soldier, but not necessarily a commando. And he knew of your background-specifically, he mentioned your Air Force background, with definite pride in his voice. If I had to guess, I would say he is a former American air force officer, perhaps even a highranking officer."
"So if he is not a commando, perhaps he's out of his element," Susan surmised. "Maybe he doesn't waat to be
where he is, fighting for money instead of for his country." Susan turned to Amina Shafik. "Any information on McLanahan's background, Amina?"
"No, Madame," Shafik responded. "It's very unusual. My contact in the American Air Attache's office at the American embassy in Cairo has no record of a Patrick McLanahan in the American military. Their records go back about five years."
"Can we search any farther back?"
"Not from the Air Attache's office," Shafik replied. "For that, we would need help from the Mukharbarat el-Aama."
"The General Intelligence Staff is still loyal to me-I can get that information," General Baris said. "But it may take some time. Should we trust this McLanahan and his men until we find out who and what they are?"
"Should we? No-I should trust no one," Susan said. "But will we trust them? Yes-for now. Be sure they have all the information they need-every map, every photograph, every piece of data. Make sure they have access to any base, every unit, and every weapon system."
Baris shook his head, then half-turned in his seat to look directly into Susan's eyes. "Listen to me, Sekhmet: Your life is in incredible danger here," he said. "I know you want to carry on your husband's work and avenge his death, but is running for president worth risking your life?"
"What do you suggest I do, General? Run?"
"In the United States, we have a chance to rebuild our power. We can wait for al-Khan's government to implode. The people will welcome you as a conquering hero then. You would be proclaimed president."
"But what about the people that I would be leaving behind?" Susan asked. "They'd be at the mercy of al-Khan and through him, Jadallah Zuwayy. I won't abandon the people of Egypt to save myself."
"The people of Egypt will survive-we have for thousands of years," Baris said. "I can trace my own ancestry back seventeen hundred years, Sekhmet. A dozen different empires, dictators, and religious oligarchies have occupied
our nation. We Egyptians have an annoying way of surviving men like al-Khan."
"That doesn't mean the innocent should suffer because the next despot or conqueror feels it's time to move in," Susan said.
"The Egyptian people won't be entirely innocent," Baris said. "Khan will be voted in by an overwhelming majority, even if Prime Minister Kalir decides to run again. Should not the people be allowed to choose their own government, their own fate?"
"No one should be permitted to rule by force, intimidation, fear-or murder," Susan said bitterly.
"Even if al-Khan is a murderer, the people of Egypt will still choose by whom they will be ruled. Whether Khan is the president or not, people will follow him because they choose to do so." Baris lowered his head sadly. "You may hate me for saying so, Sekhmet, but the reason al-Khan survives-and your husband, my friend, did not-is because the people want a man like him as president."
"Wha . . . what did you say, General?"
"I said, the people get the leaders they want, my friend," Baris said. "Your husband was a great man, a great statesman, a hero to Egypt. He helped put this nation back in touch with the rest of the world and ended the isolation and ostracism we have been facing for fifty years. But men like al-Khan survive, and many say he has more power, much more power, than Kamal Ismail Salaam ever had. Khan preaches power, Sekhmet, not cooperation. He preaches leadership. Kamal wanted Egypt to join the community of nations, especially the Western nations. Khan survives, and will become president, because people like what he says."
"Even if he gets his power by murder, death, and betrayal?"
"Betrayal to you is another man's patriotism, Sekhmet," Baris said. "Murder and death to you is justice, vengeance, action, and destiny to another. Which is right? Which is wrong? I suppose it depends on your point of view."
"I can't believe you're saying this, Ahmad," Susan re-
torted, her eyes wide in surprise. "Killing my husband, the president of Egypt, was not justice. Conspiring to align Egypt with a bunch of murderous anarchists like Zuwayy and the Muslim Brotherhood is not patriotism."
"Not to you, it isn't," Baris said. "Not to me. But to twenty million Egyptians, fifteen million Libyans, five million Sudanese-yes. To over half the Egyptian military forces, al-Khan is a hero for killing your husband. To half of the Saudi royal family, to three-quarters of the Lebanese, to most of the Syrians, Zuwayy is a liberator, the sword of Allah."
"How is that possible?" Susan asked incredulously. "How can that be true? Don't all those people realize how dangerous he is? Can't they see Zuwayy's crazy? He thinks he's descended from an ancient Libyan king. He's nothing but a goofball-a murdering, thieving goofball!"
"You're not listening, Sekhmet!" Baris said with a smile, like a patient teacher who is watching realization dawning on a promising student. "You're not paying attention. It doesn't matter what you think or what you knowit's what the people believe. Look back through your own country's history, Susan. Everyone believed John Kennedy was the so-called prince of Camelot, and then were disillusioned because you later found out he was a womanizing adolescent privileged politician who knew little except what his brother Robert and his 'Kitchen Cabinet' told him. You know much of Egyptian and Middle East history-do you truly believe the western European kings organized the Crusades to liberate the Holy Land from the infidels? Do you believe Alexander the Great sought to unify the kingdoms of eastern Europe?"
"So it's all propaganda? It's all illusion?"
"Of course it's all illusion," Baris said. "The only thing that is real is the law-but there are many, many things more powerful that the law. Image. Perception. Emotion. Fear. Anger. Hate. Love. Control these things, and you control all."
Susan shook her head in confusion. "Why are you
telling me this, General?" she asked in a low, strained voice. "Why? Are you telling me that my husband died for nothing more than a dream, an illusion?"
"Because I'm trying to explain men like Zuwayy and alKhan to you, Sekhmet," Baris said. "Your husband died because he was strong in his heart, but perhaps not stron
g enough in his mind. He believed in something he could never, ever have. Now it's time for you to choose what you want, Sekhmet. Choose."
TRIPOLI, UNITED KINGDOM LIBYA A SHORT TIME LATER
"Yes, I said Susan Salaam. She's alive!" Khalid al-Khan hissed in the cellular phone. "I thought I was seeing a ghost when she walked out on stage! And she's crazy! She actually attacked and seriously wounded some of my men-nearly killed them with a walking cane"
"A walking cane, eh?" Jadallah Zuwayy of Libya chuckled. He was relaxing in his office, flipping through reports and paperwork with several of his advisers. "I think you need to hire better bodyguards, my friend."
"She's accusing me of trying to kill her!"
"Calm yourself, Ulama. Let her rant and beat up on your bodyguards-it makes her look all the more unstable."
"Unstable? She's running for president of Egypt, Highness!"
Zuwayy froze, then sat bolt upright in his chair. "Running for president? How is that possible, Khalid? She's not an Egyptian! She's not even a naturalized Egyptian citizen!"
"The law allows it," Khan said. "The law actually says that she assumes the office of her husband if he dies in office-the law was amended in this case to allow her to run for the office."
"How in the world can you allow that to happen? What kind of lawmakers do you have out there?" ••
"'She is immensely popular here, Highness," Khan said. "Even after being hit by that explosion, she is still beautiful."
"You Egyptians sound like the Italians sometimesbeauty is enough to become a great politician, eh?"
"This is not a joke, Highness," Khan said. "The polls already show Salaam twenty points ahead, and she has not raised one penny or made one speech yet!"
"All right, all right," Zuwayy responded. "Listen to me, Khalid. Most of this fight is yours-Libya cannot become involved in Egyptian elections. You command considerable power in Egypt, especially in the outlying areas and with conservatives. Use that power. Rally your supporters. You also hold a high position, both in government and in your citizen's personal and spiritual lives-use that power as well. Don't just beat Salaam-destroy her. You can do it, Khalid. If necessary, get some secular advisers and help them design a campaign for you-don't rely on a bunch of clerics to fight a battle in an arena they know nothing about." Zuwayy paused for a few moments; then: "I may be able to help stir some things up in other areas, Khalid. But it is your fight. Fight to win."
Zuwayy cut off the call by angrily throwing the receiver back on its hook. He shook his head, deep in thought. "Khan is such a weakling, it's amazing he's even strong enough to venture outside his own bedroom by himself, let alone run for public office," he said to no one in particular. "Whining and bleating like a lost sheep because the wife of his political adversary is still breathing-deplorable." But he ordered his aide to dismiss his other advisers and staffers with a wave of his hand.
When his office was cleared, he looked at his military chief of staff, General Tahir Fazani, and his Secretary of Arab Unity, Juma Mahmud Hijazi. "What if the lovely Mrs. Salaam does win the election?" he asked.
"Khan will retain his post as chief justice of the Supreme Judiciary," Hijazi said. "He's almost as powerful as the president. Little will change."
"Salaam will certainly want to form even closer rela-
tions with the West than her husband," Fazani said. "That means more foreign military presence, more military ties, more foreign investment. Libya will be squeezed out of any development deals." He glanced at Hijazi, then added, "So will our secret benefactor."
"I am still opposed to making any more deals with Kazakov, Jadallah," Hijazi said. The two men in Zuwayy's office were fellow officers in the Libyan military who helped Zuwayy overthrow Qadhafi to take over the government-they were two of the few in all of Libya who could call Zuwayy by his real name, and still only in private. "The man's in protective custody by the World Court, for God's sake. This could all be an elaborate ruse to implicate us. Remember, he's ratted out half the organized-crime leaders in Europe in just the past year. Maybe we're next."
"I still say, let's take all the weapons Kazakov can put into our hands," Fazani said, "and blast the Egyptian military to hell right now. They may have American weapons, but they don't have any more power or support than they ever had. We have historic claims to the Salimah oil fields-let's just move in, wipe out the Western and ignorant Turkish roustabouts, and take over the entire Libyan Desert region of Egypt. We can lay claim to everything west of thirty east longitude and everything south of twenty-five degrees latitude, and I think we can hold it easily. Our forces in Sudan already have the region surrounded-it would be easy. We can pump oil and send it to Libya for six months, maybe a year, before the West starts to threaten retaliation. Then we keep the proceeds, destroy the wells, and get out."
"It won't work, Tahir," Zuwayy said. "What if we do occupy those fields? No one will buy one drop of oil we pump after we invade Egypt."
"There is always a market for crude, Jadallah," Fazani said. "If nothing else, we threaten to dump it on the world market if no one buys it at market price. Dozens of nations, including the West, will buy it at cut-rate prices just for the chance to store it and resell it at higher prices later? and the OPEC countries will buy it just to prop up oil prices. Once
we make peace with Egypt, pay some measly reparations, and maybe even take our cut of the profits and move to South America or Southeast Asia, the West will be happy to deal with us again-they'll make a deal with Satan himself to get at all the oil we'll pump from Salimah."
"You tired of running the Libyan military, Tahir?" Zuwayy asked with a smile.
"Jadallah, I give you all the credit in the world for engineering this scam," Fazani said. "It was a stroke of pure genius, coming up with the whole Sanusi thing. Most of the folks in Libya and a good portion of the world bought it. But we're not in it to rule the damned country-we're in it for the money, remember? Libya pumps five billion dollars' worth of oil out of the desert a year. If we can siphon off even ten percent for ourselves, we'll be set up for the rest of our lives. Why do we want to stick around after that?"
"Because if we can take the Salimah oil fields, we can take twice as much," Zuwayy said.
"I'm all for that, Jadallah," Fazani said, "but I'd be just as happy splitting a five-hundred-million-dollar take. I can't water-ski behind more than one megayacht anyway. Besides, how much of those billion dollars do we need to split with Kazakov? He's got a reputation for killing off all his partners. I'd rather get out while we're still alive to enjoy the money."
"Don't worry about it," Zuwayy said. "We've got our escape plan ready to go-that's the mistake Qadhafi made, believing he really was some big-shot Arab desert chieftain. If we need to implement the escape plan, we won't hesitate. Until then, we press on with our plans."
SUPREME JUDICIARY, CAIRO, EGYPT THAT SAME TIME
"'Defeat her'-easy for you to say," Ulama Khalid alKhan murmured. He hung up the phone and held his head
in his hands. "How do you defeat a ghost? Scare her away?"
"Sir?" Major Amr Abu Gheit, Khan's bodyguard and chief of the Supreme Judiciary security forces, asked. He waited for a few moments, then asked, "Can I get something for you, sir?"
"Nothing," Khan responded. "Nothing-except perhaps Salaam's head."
"I can get that for you, sir," Gheit said with an evil smile. "Just give me immunity from prosecution, and I'll do it tonight."
"Tempting, but not quite yet," Khan said. "What are the pretty Mrs. Salaam's whereabouts, anyway?"
"Last report had Mrs. Salaam and General Baris in National Democratic Party headquarters, meeting with district political chairmen and major supporters to organize her election campaign," Gheit reported, reading from a notebook. "We have a list of those supporters. Wiretaps, surveillance, and financial investigations can begin on all of them as soon as you wish."
"Very well. Get them moving," Khan said. "And if you can't find the information you
need, invent it."
"Yes, sir," Gheit said. He continued glancing at the report. "This is interesting, sir: It is reported from interviews with the flight crew that Mrs. Salaam had flown in to the People's Assembly meeting from Mersa Matruh military base in the west."
"Mersa Matruh? What was she doing there?"
"It is apparently where she evacuated to after the assassination, sir," Gheit said. He read on, shaking his head as he did so. "There is no mention of it in here."
"Mention of what? What are you muttering about, Major?"
"There was some sort of emergency at Mersa Matruh days ago-the base commander, Vice Marshal Ouda, reported that there was some sort of incident, a mutiny or some other violent action, aboard one of his ships," Gheit replied. •
"Major, that does not concern me," Khan said.
"If I may, sir, I will contact Vice Marshal Ouda and see if he has anything to report on Salaam or Baris's presence there," Gheit said. Khan dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and he departed, leaving Khan wringing his hands and shaking his head at his desk. But Gheit excitedly returned several minutes later. "Holiness .. . !"
"What is it now, Major?"
"I have Vice Marshal Ouda on the line," Gheit said. "He has something incredible to report. Salaam and Baris were indeed there-and so were some unidentified foreign commandos. Salaam and Baris spoke to them, after which they offered the use of base facilities and other assistance."
"What?" Khan exclaimed. "What commandos? Who were they?"
"It is not known, sir-but Ouda thinks they are Americans."
"American commandos are on one of our bases?" Khan exploded. "Who authorized this? Why wasn't I notified? Why wasn't anyone in Cairo notified?"
"General Baris ordered Ouda not to report it," Gheit replied. "Baris is still national security adviser and Ouda's superior officer."
