Wings of Fire pm-10

by Dale Brown

  "I am sorry, Madame. I was only thinking of your safety. I apologize if I have offended you or dishonored the memory of the president by suggesting you flee the country."

  "You are still one of the most respected men in all of Egypt, perhaps in the entire Arab world," Susan said, reaching up and taking Baris's hand. "Your loyalty is unquestioned, as is your heart." She looked at Baris, paused as if considering her words, then said, "You could be president, or prime minister, if you so chose. But you stay in the shadows. Your people need you, General. When will you stand up and lead them?"

  "I have led men only once, at the head of a formation of tanks in the Sinai against the Israelis almost thirty years ago, and nine of every ten men that followed my orders died in less than a day," Baris said. "I was the lucky oneI lost only part of my right leg. I learned that day that I am far more adept at observing and advising than making actual decisions."

  "Nonsense, Ahmad."

  "As a famous American psychopathic renegade police officer once said, 'A man's gotta know his limitations,'" Baris said with a smile. His love for American cop movies and westerns-the more violent the better-was well known throughout Cairo. "I am content and secure in the knowledge that I have given good, sound advice to many government officials over the years, and I believe I have served God and made Egypt a better place for it. That is enough for me." He paused, studying Susan carefully, then asked, "What is it you seek, Sekhmet?"

  Susan Salaam did not respond for several moments, and Baris was surprised to see a faint smile on her lips when she finally replied, "Am I wrong for saying 'I would like to see Zuwayy and al-Khan dead'?" Baris did not return the smile, so hers dimmed and her exotic eyes narrowed. "The truth, my old friend?" Baris nodded, and she looked away and nodded as well. "I'm happy to be alive. I'm glad I wasn't killed. And so I think that perhaps God had a reason for not wishing me dead. I feel there is something more I must do." Susan shook her head, staring off into space as if reading a newspaper headline from a great distance. She paused, then looked at the retired general. He swallowed as he saw something ominous in her dark almond-shaped eye and full yet innocent lips. "Yes. There is work to be done. You and my husband had plans to restore Egypt to its rightful place as leader of the Mediterranean nations and of the Arab world. I want to continue your goals."

  "My dear, the concept of a united Arab world is a dream, nothing more," Baris said, chuckling despite the strange prickly sensation he felt on the back of his neck. "Don't let the apparent successes of pretentious nutcases like Zuwayy or opportunistic zealots like al-Khan cloud your thinking. The people of Libya don't believe Zuwayy is a descendant of a desert king, and no modern Egyptian will ever believe a man is invested with the power of the gods to rule their land. The Pharaohs are dead, and long may it stay that way." He touched Susan's hand, breaking her reverie, and smiled with relief when she smiled at him. "Even though you are a thousand times lovelier than all of Hollywood's Cleopatras put together, Sekhmet, don't ever be deluded into thinking the world will tolerate an Arab empire."

  Susan's smile dimmed as she reached up and touched her eyepatch, then ran her fingers down the left side of her face and left arm, gently tracing the scars and the pain that outlined them under all the bandages. "No one will ever think I am as beautiful as Cleopatra. Zuwayy's and alKhan's treachery has seen to that."

  "Don't let revenge and hatred fester inside you," Baris warned her. "Keep a clear head. Understand?"

  "Yes, General."

  "Good." The military helicopter had a computer terminal at the communications officer's station, so Baris swiveled his chair over to his computer terminal and logged on. His usual list of daily intelligence, status, and situation reports started popping up on the screen. "Our first task is to get you to safety. I…"

  "I must go back to the presidential palace," Susan repeated. "I must bury my husband first."

  "Your life is in great danger if you go back," Baris warned her.

  "I have no choice. If the conspirators want to kill me before or during the funeral, so be it-I will become Egypt's second martyr. My last duty to my husband is to help lead his nation forward beyond their grief." She smiled at her friend. "But I don't want you exposing yourself in a vain attempt to stop any attack if it should come. I want you out of sight, watching, as you do best. Leave me your best and most trusted aides. I think I'll be all right until after the funeral. After that… we will do what we must do. Let's go to Alexandria. Can you find a secure place for us there?"

  "The Naval Academy on Abu Qir Bay east of Alexandria-the commandant is an old friend, and he can ensure your safety and security. It's isolated enough to keep us out of sight, but they have helicopter and fast armed patrol vessel facilities in case we must make a quick escape from Khan's goons. Your apartment is less than a kilometer away." But as he scanned the daily reports, he came across a shocking one and read it quickly. Susan noticed his eyebrows lifting higher and higher with each sentence. "What in hell…?"

  "What is it, General?"

  "Some sort of base-wide emergency happening at Mersa Matruh as we speak," Baris replied, reading the report with growing surprise. "Listen to this, Susan: On the night before the attack at the mosque, there was an attack against an isolated rocket base in Libya, including possible chemical and nuclear material discharge."

  "I remember. Kamal was briefed shortly after it happened. We mobilized our border forces, but otherwise did not want to make it appear we were in any way involved."

  "That's correct," Baris said. "A few hours later, there were a series of attacks by unidentified warplanes, presumed to be Libyan, against several civilian commercial vessels in the Mediterranean. We were told they were some kind of retaliatory attacks, the Libyans trying to find where the commandos that attacked their base came from. A total of seven lifeboats filled with sixty-three men and women evacuated from one of the ships, a Lithuanian-flagged salvage vessel, and were picked up by our guided missile frigate ElArish out of Mersa Matruh."

  "That seems like a very large crew for a salvage vessel. What else? Has the crew been interrogated? Who are they?" Susan looked at the retired general and saw that his mouth had dropped open in surprise. "General? What is it?"

  "Our frigate was captured."

  "Captured? By the rescued crewT

  "This is extraordinary," Baris exclaimed as he read. "The rescued crew members are apparently commandos, led by three men in unusual and unidentifiable battle dress uniforms, carrying powerful but unusual weapons."

  "What is the crew complement of the frigate?"

  "About two hundred sailors."

  "Sixty men captured two hundred sailors on board one of our own warships?" Susan asked incredulously. Surprise, however, quickly turned to wonderment. "How do we know all this, General? Is someone on the crew sending secret messages? Did someone escape?"

  "No, Susan-the leader of the commando unit is allowing the captain, Commander Farouk, to send these messages," Baris replied with astonishment in his eyes and tone. "The leader, who calls himself Castor, says that no one on the ship will be harmed and the ship will be allowed to return to Mersa Matruh as long as we promise not to attack the ship as they approach and do not attempt to capture them."

  "Who are they? Israelis? Americans?"

  "Commander Farouk believes they are Americans, but they are wearing masks and are hiding their identities well. It is apparently impossible to tell the nationality of the leaders-their voices are electronically altered."

  "Electronically altered?" Susan thought hard for a moment. Who were these soldiers? They were powerful enough to commandeer an Egyptian warship, one of the most powerful in northern Africa, but yet they couldn't hold their base of operations, a small salvage vessel. If they were terrorists or mercenaries sent to attack an Egyptian target, they were sloppy indeed. They surely would not have let the ship's captain make a call back to base.

  The leader decided to trust the Egyptians not to harm them-but just to be sure, they command
eered a guided missile frigate. An interesting blend of strength and restraint, power and caution. Who was this leader? Obviously a man concerned for the safety of his men, but not afraid to use the power at his command. Obviously highly trained and skillful, but not berserkers either.

  The leader's nom de guerre was "Castor"-one of a set of twins from Roman mythology. The twin gods, the Dioscuri, were the "cosmic stabilizers," representing darkness and light. One was a man of peace, a horse tamer; the other was a boxer, a warrior. They also protected mortals. When Pollux, the warrior, was killed during the Odyssey, Castor the man of peace made a deal with the gods-when his fellow voyagers needed a fighter, he would die so his brother could live. Susan wondered the obvious-who and where was the Pollux?

  Or perhaps was there no Pollux now, and Castor the man of peace was the leader. Perhaps that's why these men didn't slash their way on board the frigate, kill the crew, and simply steal the ship. Could this Castor be convinced to transform himself into Pollux the warrior to protect mortals… or perhaps one mortal in particular?

  "I will return to Cairo for the funeral, General," Susan said. "But first we will go to Mersa Matruh to meet these commandos. Make no attempt to retake the ship, but do not allow it to leave, either."

  "You want to keep one of our own captured warships sitting off our own shore with a terrorist commando team aboard, and not do anything about it?"

  "They captured it, they deserve to stay on it," Susan said. "Give them food, medical attention, women-anything they want or need. Just don't let them leave." She thought for a moment, then said, "Rather, ask them to stay, until I arrive."

  "Why do you want to meet with them, Sekhmet?" Baris asked. "They could be dangerous men."

  Susan shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "In fact, they could be just what we need to take back what Khan and Zuwayy have taken from us."

  It was one of the hardest things she ever had to do in her young life: leave her husband's side to protect her own life. Now, several minutes from landing at the huge sprawling joint forces military base at Mersa Matruh in northwestern Egypt, Susan Bailey Salaam finally had time to sort out all the horrifying events that had happened over the past several hours:

  Susan had been taken away from the mosque by an army ambulance, one of several in the area. They tried to make their way back to Abdin Palace, but the streets were now blocked by protesters and rioters who had heard that Susan had been killed in the blast on the Nile, and they sped off. She was transferred to several different vehicles, and at one point dressed in a flak vest and wore a helmet as a disguise when it appeared protesters were getting too close to their vehicle. She was finally taken to Zahir Air Base in northeastern Cairo and flown out of the city in an army helicopter. The pilot broadcast that his destination was the Egyptian Naval Academy in Alexandria, but once over the Mediterranean, the helicopter dipped low to the water, out of sight of anyone on shore, then proceeded west.

  No doubt about it, she thought ruefully as they began their approach for landing-it was an evacuation, out of Cairo, out of the government, out of the people's lives, fleeing for her own life. She hated the idea of being forced to run from her own home, her own people. She preferred facing her attackers, confronting them head-on, battling for her honor and legacy and that of her husband. But now she was gone. She had to disguise herself to get out of the area-they could not even trust the citizens of Cairo to protect her long enough, even in her grief, to get her safely away from such a disastrous, monstrous, unconscionable event. Even the Presidential Palace was unsafe.

  What was she doing out here, hundreds of kilometers from civilization, running from her people like a thief in the night? If there were strange commandos here in Egypt, why didn't she have them brought to her in Alexandria? Something was drawing her out here. She didn't know who these men were, but something told her she had to go look for herself out here. Not for safety. Perhaps it was the desert, the idea of hegira, and the cleansing fotces of the desert. Perhaps, like Moses and Jesus and Muhammad and thousands of others throughout history, she needed to draw spiritual strength from the wastelands.

  It was about an hour before dusk when the helicopter made its approach to the huge military base. Mersa Matruh looked more like a large industrial complex and commercial shipyard than a military base. Sprawling almost two hundred square kilometers, it was home to nearly a fifth of all of Egypt's active-duty forces. Its main assignment-not well publicized, for fear of angering its Arab neighborswas to repel a possible invasion from Libya, as well as to secure Egypt's northern and western flanks and protect its right to freely navigate the Mediterranean Sea. Most of the base had been built by Nazi Germany and Italy during World War II, then occupied by the British until the 1952 revolution. Susan noticed the large earth stations, part of Egypt's telecommunications network, as well as the earlywarning radar installation that scanned the Mediterranean and the skies to the north and west, watching and waiting for danger.

  "God must have something else in store for me rather than to die in the streets of Cairo," Susan said to General Baris as they exited the helicopter. She looked at the men arrayed before her. 'These guards..?"

  "Handpicked by me for your protection," Baris said. "On my payroll, and as loyal to me as my own brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, you have some enemies, even out here on the frontier." He motioned to the man, obviously a high-ranking officer, who stepped over to them. "Madame, this is Vice Marshal Sayed Ouda, commander of the western military district headquartered here."

  Ouda made a slight bow, then returned his hands casually to behind his back. He was tall, good-looking in a rough-hewn way, with a stylish mustache, carrying-of all things-a riding crop, his cap rakishly tilted to one side. "My condolences to you," he said simply.

  "Thank you, Vice Marshal," Susan Salaam said. She regarded him coolly for a moment, then said, "You do not approve of me being here, do you, Vice Marshal?"

  "My duty is to protect my nation and obey orders," he said in a low monotone. He eyed General Baris suspiciously. "I do what I must to obey the legitimate authorities." Obviously he was beginning to doubt whether Baris represented any legitimate authority at all anymore in Egypt.

  "I do not mean to cause you any trouble, Vice Marshal," Susan said.

  "The president is dead, Madame," Ouda said icily, "and his aide de camp and widow are hiding themselves on my base, far from the capital. That is not the mark of any legitimate authority I know."

  "Nonetheless, you will obey his orders as you would have obeyed President Salaam," Susan said, "or you may discover your value as a commander in the Egyptian armed forces to be greatly diminished."

  Ouda looked Susan up and down with a faint smile. His unspoken words were crystal clear: My value is considerably greater than yours right now. He gave her another appraising look. Susan was very familiar with that look as well: The man was momentarily forgetting she was the wife of an Egyptian president and was looking at her as just another potential sexual conquest. Ouda was obviously accustomed to doing that, no matter who else was looking on. He gave her another half-bow, half-nod and departed.

  A woman in uniform quickly stepped over to them, snapped to attention, and saluted. She wore the red beret of the Republican Guards, the elite infantry soldiers assigned to protect the president and other high government officials, and she wore a small MP5 submachine gun on a combat harness on her body. She was shorter and thinner than Susan, and rather small for a soldier, but her dark eyes and firm jaw told an entirely different story.

  "Madame, this is Captain Amina Shafik, formerly an infantry officer and a company commander in the Republican Guards," General Baris said. "She was first assigned to protect my wife seven years ago until cancer took her. She has been my personal aide since. I trust her implicitly. Captain Shafik, Madame Susan Salaam." Shafik saluted, then snapped to parade rest. "I have assigned her to you as your personal bodyguard. She will stay with you night and day. You must trust her judgment when it comes to
your safety."

  Susan extended her hand, and the handshake confirmed Susan's observation-she was deceptively strong. "I am pleased to meet you, Captain," Susan said. "Do you have a family? A husband?"

  "A brother and two sisters, Madame, both emigrated to the United States," Shafik replied. "My parents are dead, killed by the Israelis in the Six-Day War. My husband was an officer in the Mubahath el-Dawa, killed in a terrorist bombing of the State Security Investigations headquarters by Gama'a al-Islamiyya."

  "I am sorry for your loss, Captain," Susan said. She looked at her carefully. "You lost a child as well, did you not, Captain?"

  Shafik's eyes widened, first in surprise, then in sadness as the memories flooded back, unbidden. She nodded. "I lost it the day I learned of the death of my husband."

  "It is an enormous tragedy," Susan said. "But you will learn to love again, and you will find a man worthy of your love. I hope you won't let your hatred prevent you from having the child you well deserve."

  "My tragedy-and my hatred-is insignificant compared to what you must feel, Madame," Shafik said, her voice flowing with relief and gratitude.

  "No tragedy-or hatred-is insignificant," Susan said quietly. "I assure you of that."

  "If you permit me, Madame," Shafik said, "I would like to personally apologize to you for the breach in discipline and procedures by the Republican Guards on the day of your husband's assassination. I have served in the Guards for almost ten years, and I have never witnessed such a flagrant dereliction of duties and responsibilities." She removed her red beret, crushing it in her strong hands. "I am ashamed to wear the beret."

  "Don't be, Captain-you earned the right to wear it," Susan said. "It was the ones who took bribes and allowed themselves to be lured away from their posts that should strip themselves of the honor of wearing it, not you."

  "Yes, Madame," Shafik said. "I assure you, I will do everything I can to avenge my president's, your husband's, assassination. Those who committed that deed do not deserve justice-they deserve retribution."