The President of the Unites States sighed wearily. "Why does that woman always get her way?"
The chief of staff opened his mouth to say the obvious. But decided that "Because you let her" wasn't something the beleaguered President needed to hear right now.
Chapter Fourteen
When word reached Anwar Anwar-Sadat that Mexican armed forces were massing on the U.S. border, he thought he was dreaming.
In fact, he had been dreaming in his Beekman Place high-rise apartment. He had been dreaming of his namesake, Anwar al-Sadat.
Anwar Anwar-Sadat had served under Egyptian President Anwar al-Sadat. It was a very confusing time because in those days, Anwar Anwar-Sadat's name had been simply Anwar Sadat. Two Anwar Sadats could be confusing, even in the Byzantine inner circles of Egyptian government, where any number of men bore identical names. It was easier to shift blame that way.
President Anwar al-Sadat had called the then-Foreign Minister Anwar Sadat into his sumptuous office and suggested that it was time for a change. "One of Us must change his name," had said President Anwar al-Sadat.
And so great had been Foreign Minister Anwar Sadat's ego in those days that he naturally assumed it would be the president who changed his name. After all, had it not been his idea?
Fortunately Anwar Sadat's diplomatic training saved him from saying so. So he sat in strained silence as the president went on to say, "And of course it must be you."
This struck Anwar Sadat like a cruel blow. He was proud of his name. He had striven mightily to make it a name to contend with in diplomatic circles. Now he was being stripped of it by this runty little despot with the wooly-worm mustache.
But being a diplomat, he didn't air his grievance. He merely said, "As you wish, my President."
"Then it is done," purred the Egyptian president.
"It is agreed," said the other Anwar Sadat, which sounded to the first like agreement but was actually temporizing.
A week passed and Anwar Sadat remained Anwar Sadat. Two weeks soon became three.
The Egyptian president had taken to becoming very testy with his namesake as he saw his foreign minister drag his feet. But he said nothing. This was Egypt, after all. Change came slowly.
On the day the president of Egypt was slaughtered in a reviewing stand by his own disloyal troops, Anwar Sadat was seated two rows behind him and four seats to the left. And survived with no more than a spattering of blood on his starched shirtfront. Other persons' blood.
In another culture this might have relieved a subordinate of his half promise to change his name, but not in Egypt. The very next day, tearful of eye and stony of visage, Anwar Sadat announced to a mourning nation that only a short time before, he had promised to change his name to please the martyred leader of Egypt. And now he would.
"I have taken my beloved leader's full name as my last name," he said. And when the people's assembly rose in thunderous applause, he took his seat behind a nameplate that bore the legend Anwar Anwar-Sadat.
From that day on he was Egypt's rising diplomatic star.
It was a magnificent gesture, one applauded the world over. But it had a downside. Comedians made fun of his name. Others misspelled it constantly, or placed the hyphen between the two Anwars instead of between the second Anwar and the only Sadat. It became especially acute when he assumed the exalted title of UN Secretary General, an office often held by men of unusual names. What was U Thant if not an odd name? Or Dag Hammarskjöld? Even when a secretary general was unmasked as a former Nazi, there were not such jokes.
And then there were the dreams. In his dreams the late President Anwar al-Sadat forever chased him through the red desert sands, screaming that he could not rest in the afterlife among the pharaohs and khedives of old so long as the upstart diplomat dragged his proud name through the headlines.
Anwar Anwar-Sadat was rudely awakened from his latest such dream by the ringing of the telephone.
"Another of those dreams, my General?" asked the obsequious voice of the under secretary for peacekeeping operations.
"It is nothing. I was glad to be roused from it, for the dead one had me by the ankles and held me prostrate as jackals circled."
"Jackals are a pharaonic symbol of the dead."
"I am not dead, I assure you."
"The army of Mexico is massing on the border."
"Which border?"
"Why, the United States border. What other border would interest them?"
"This is wonderful news!" burbled the secretary general, for a moment wondering if he hadn't slipped from the valley of nightmare to the realm of dreams come true.
"I thought you would see it this way," purred the under secretary.
"We must convene an emergency meeting of the Security Council and call for peacekeeping forces to be deployed between the two belligerent nations."
"It goes without saying."
Anwar Anwar-Sadat snapped his fingers impatiently. "A name. We must have a name for this operation."
"United Nations United States-United States Observer Group."
Anwar Anwar-Sadat made a face. "UNUSUSOG?"
"You say it as if it were a bug you discovered in your mouth."
"The Security Council will never approve it," Anwar Anwar-Sadat barked.
"And why not? It is easy to say and remember."
"There are two United Stateses in the name. Who is to know which is which?"
"An excellent observation, my General. I had not thought of this. May I suggest UNMEXUSOG, then?"
"A good suggestion. But I myself prefer USUNMEXOG."
"That is just as good. But I fail to see the difference."
"It is elementary," said Anwar Anwar-Sadat. "The United States will not consider this operation if their country name does not come first."
"Yes, yes. I see this now."
"Please send my official car. We must act upon this without delay."
"There is only one other problem, my General."
"And that is?"
"The Security Council will be difficult to assemble with so many of the delegates having been recalled for consultations."
"Of course. How forgetful of me. Has there been any word on this mysterious matter?"
"None whatsoever."
"Well, we might as well draft a resolution in anticipation of their return. My car. At once."
"At once, my General."
Chapter Fifteen
Harold Smith watched the data stream with growing concern.
Mexican army units were now entirely forward deployed. Their force strength, while far below U.S. levels, was counterbalanced by U.S. deployment in foreign countries. That put them roughly equal.
Noon approached. There was no avoiding it now. The time had come to contact the President directly.
Smith took an aspirin and antacid tablet and a deep breath as he laid his gnarled grayish fingers on the red telephone receiver.
He began to lift it.
And his desk intercom buzzed.
Frowning, he dropped the receiver, snapped the intercom switch and said, "Yes, Mrs. Mikulka?"
"A Mr. Remo Durock to see you, Dr. Smith."
"Send him in," Smith said quickly.
Remo walked in. At first Harold Smith barely recognized him. He was deeply tanned with a sparkle in his eyes, and there was a distinct smile warping his cruel slash of a mouth.
"Hiya, Smitty. Miss me?"
"Remo. You were to convince Master Chiun to reconsider."
"Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt."
Smith started hopefully. "He has changed his mind?"
"It's not a done deal but it's almost in the bag."
Smith blinked. This seemed so unlike Remo and Chiun. "How do you mean that?" he asked guardedly.
"I mean," said Remo, cheerfully plopping in a chair, "Chiun has authorized me to negotiate our next contract."
"He has?"
"All you gotta do is meet our demands, and Mexico will withdraw to a neutral corner."