“I called to inquire to see if you have the hostages safely in your hands? There has been no news on this….”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’d like to pay the ransom and have them released into Russian custody very soon. I imagine you may have a figure in mind?”
“Yes I do, however it was a figure for the Americans.”
“I seem to recall that we did you a favor some time ago and perhaps you can keep that in mind?”
“I wanted six billion but for you let’s say half that figure?”
“Three billion sounds like a fair figure. I’ll pay you two billion right now and then another billion on delivery to Muscat International on Wednesday. We will make arrangements with the authorities for you to enter the airport unhampered at three a.m. Buses would be best. Can you do that?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s keep our organization in close contact between now and then so that there are no foul-ups. When we are done with our discussion, have your men give my people the bank numbers and you will have the money.”
“That is fine.”
“We have word that the Iranians are going to move troops across the border in order to find you if the Oman authorities don’t turn you over. I’d recommend you get your entire operation out of there immediately and into another country.”
“That will be difficult,” Mahdi contemplated. “They will be looking for us.”
If you wish, leave all the hardware behind, collect your men and the hi-tech equipment, and we’ll airlift you out with the hostages on a separate plane. You can take twenty-four hours to decide where you want to go and we can make the arrangements at both ends. It must be a third-world country.”
“That sounds like it might work. How do I know my men will be safe?”
“It is up to you. If you don’t trust us you can say ‘no’.”
“I’ll discuss it with my men and get back to you on that.”
“One more thing—”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to give you an extra billion for a job well done.”
Mahdi climbed the stairs of the underground OC and found the patio that overlooked the Gulf of Oman. Several of his associates lingered around the deck drinking bottled water and tea. The black cloud hung over the horizon that would soon bring certain death to much of the country. The slick would arrive on the shore in another few days and the boats anchored to the docks would be rendered useless. He would destroy them before leaving.
The waters he had known all his life were now a thing of the past, His father was dead — had given his life to try and save it. His father before that and the one before that…. The legacy had been passed to him and in a sense he had attained a kind of retribution for all the transgressions from those who would destroy the life-giving waters. However he had driven far beyond that and destroyed everything. There would be those who would condemn him to hell for what he had done. He hoped his father knew he had no choice. It was fate forced upon him. He was the only one who could have done such a thing. One day history would look back and declare him either a savior or the devil.
He could make an attempt to vacate the headquarters by sea, but knew it was hopeless as they were already trapped by the slick. His men could fend for themselves and try to escape across the border into Saudi Arabia. That would not be an easy task. No — he could not leave his men to certain death, either here or at the border. They all had to get out.
The Russians were the only hope. He imagined the Russians slaughtering his men in the planes or simply parachuting out while over the ocean. Would they do that? It was entirely possible. To step onto the planes could be death or salvation.
Chapter Thirty-two
Thank the lord you are here!”
Farnsworth and other cabinet members were standing outside the Oval Office as Robinson found the door. Prottenger, Deshano, Costanzo, Fegan, and Bumgardner headed the unofficial delegation. Robinson listened to the concerns and the behavior of the president they had all witnessed in his absence.
“I’ll talk to him. I want all of you to go back to your offices and leave this to me. I am no Doctor Phil but I will do my best. Let’s have a small gathering — a party — tonight. Let’s keep it very small with no more than fifty people. I’ll get the president to agree to go and we can cheer him up together. No press or anything like that please. I think when he sees that we are all behind him, he’ll come around.”
He lightly tapped on the door and entered. The president stood in front of the window with his hands clasped behind his back. “Mr. President? Could I come in and talk to you?”
“Oh hello, Houston; certainly, come on in. It is good to have you back.” Houston listened more than he talked. “I have failed the American public. They trust in me and everything has turned into a shambles. It seems that I can only sit and wait for the next catastrophe. I need time to sort it all out.”
For the next hour the president described the current state of affairs and how ineffective he had been as the leader of the free world. Robinson tried to cheer him up as best he could, but it seemed only the tiniest bit helpful. He told the president of his trip to Somalia and how encouraged he was by the work the Russians were performing there. He told him how Dimochka and he rescued Turner. “She wants to meet you and will be at a little gathering we have arranged for tonight — only a few Cabinet members and your closest people. We’ll share a few drinks, listen to some music and talk about old times. Bring your wife and daughter. We’ll have a good time. Right now, why not stroll up and down the hall and chat with your staff. They are worried about you. We are all here to help.” Robinson opened the door and led him down the hall. Soon the president was chatting with everyone and issuing orders. It was a beginning.
Farnsworth took Robinson aside and thanked him for rushing back. “You did something none of us could do. Go home, get some rest, and we’ll see you at the party.”
Robinson escorted Turner down Pennsylvania Avenue where they window shopped the many specialty clothing stores while DSS agents followed closely. He surprised her when he took her into a smaller boutique and purchased an informal gown for the party with all the accessories. He reminded her that she would meet the president and first lady and that the Red Cross outfit and the pair of jeans she owned might be out of place. She settled on a modest dark purple gown with silver accessories that included matching shoes. When she complained that it was too expensive, Robinson told her, “Things cost more in D.C. than they do in Mogadishu.” She resisted as best she could, but she loved the outfit and finally accepted the gift.
Farnsworth met the pair at the door where the party was gathering. She was bubbly. “You did not mention that you were bringing someone.” She broadcast a cheerful smile. “You have been hiding her from all of us — shame on you.”
Robinson introduced Turner to the group in one swoop. “Attention everyone, the lovely lady at my side is Carol Turner, an old friend from my home town. I want everyone to give her a warm welcome.” Everyone applauded the announcement and soon Turner mixed with the gathering like she had known them all her life. The First Lady embraced her and inquired where she had found the “gorgeous outfit.”
“Houston took me to a little shop on Pennsylvania Avenue.”
“I know the place. They have the cutest outfits there. I had my eye on that very outfit the last time I was in there. Now that a charmer like you has beaten me to it, I’ll need to shop for something else.” She held the president’s hand. “Oh, this guy hanging on to me is the president. Go ahead and shake his hand. He won’t bite you.”