“But Kyle, the Pharaoh will never find us here. At the hotel, with my name in the register, I would be easy to track down.”
“Are MI6 and C cool with that?”
“I haven’t told them, but I don’t need permission. Omar can look out for me, and by being out in the open, I can move more freely and gather even better intel while we wait.” She smiled. Omar shrugged his shoulders.
“What’s your cover story?”
“That’s the best part. I’m a scholar, so I was en route to do some independent research in the fabulous library at St. Catherine’s Monastery near Mount Sinai. My academic credentials will support that. But I got scared and ran away when the attack hit the Blue Neptune and hid out overnight. Since calm has been restored, I am back in a big hotel, hoping to get on the list of people allowed to leave. It is best to act like an innocent abroad.”
Since Kyle did not give a damn about the Pharaoh and had no control over Bialy, he said, “OK. Sounds like a winner, as long as we keep in close touch. I will stay here for a while longer, and you call me if you need me.” The two British agents moving to the hotel had a huge plus side for Swanson, for he would be able to use the safe house as a hide for the incoming recon team. Tianha and Omar didn’t need to know about them at all.
“Omar, I’ll need a car for my own use. I can’t keep stealing them off the street, so can you arrange something before you guys leave? I would prefer some kind of 4x4 in case there is some rugged driving needed when this place goes to hell. Complete with good papers.”
“Sure. I have an SUV at my local office. I’ll park it in the underground garage here and leave the keys for you.”
“Well, good luck to you both. Tianha, you be careful in dealing with the Iranians and with your Pharaoh, and stay in close contact, OK? You know this isn’t over.”
“What are you going to do?” Bialy asked.
Swanson yawned and stretched. “I don’t know. Right now, I think I’ll take a nap.”
21
Major Mansoor Shakuri was feeling the pressure of command. Brigadier General Medhi Khasrodad of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard was in charge of the ground troops in the Egyptian peninsula, but Khasrodad was little more than a figurehead whose job was to be certain the men performed their duties. Shakuri held the actual power, and he answered only to Colonel Naqdi in Cairo, and Naqdi was the critical strong link in a chain that stretched all the way back to Tehran, where it was anchored in theology and politics. In this unusual case, the general answered to the major, so the pressure was eased somewhat by the pleasure of being in charge. Finally free of the colonel’s fearsome presence, the major could do as he pleased. He had learned much during the months of stern tutelage — much more than the colonel suspected, for Shakuri had used his position as chief of staff well. The colonel would be very surprised to know that the major was such a deep well of inside information.
Naqdi actually had been quite effusive in praising his former chief of staff, allowing Shakuri to become the public face of the successful military action that had disguised the invasion. The major’s photograph in a crisp uniform had appeared in many newspapers, his televised appearance had been on screens around the world, and the social media was passing him around like a party favor: the savior who defeated the terrorists’ savage attack on the hotels of Sharm el-Sheikh! A promotion and a citation for his record were almost certainties. Nobody was talking about Colonel Naqdi.
General Khasrodad had his headquarters with the troops out at the airport, but Major Shakuri saw no need for austerity. He instead confiscated a cluster of apartments at one of the luxurious seaside hotels, from which he could watch the beach and the blue water from his desk, and where he could have refreshments served on shining silver platters by hotel waiters. The bad part of command was that each decision carried risk, and the commendations and promotion and bright future could vanish in an instant, leaving him in disgrace, if not in prison. Despite the new job and beautiful surroundings, Shakuri had not forgotten that his colonel had a low tolerance for failure.
As a silent acknowledgment of who was senior, Shakuri was at his big desk, listening to the report of General Khasrodad, in a chair opposite him. The takeover of Sharm was complete, but there was at least one viper in the nest, maybe more. Four soldiers dead at the Government House, two sentries gutted at the airport, and the troop-filled transport plane that crashed, although that was officially listed as an accident. The major knew better. To him, it had the look of a growing partisan movement. Khasrodad had argued that such guerrilla actions were to be expected during an occupation phase, that the casualties sustained by his force thus far were still well below the predicted parameters, and that security procedures had been tightened to prevent further losses. Shakuri considered that to be a passive response and one that would only invite further trouble. He wanted a more aggressive posture. If there was indeed an underground guerrilla movement afoot in the city, he intended to snuff out the danger before it could flame into rebellion. There had to be a show of retribution. What good was command if you did not exercise power?
Following the conference, the general had to slink away and reluctantly prepare to carry out his new orders to arrest half a dozen Egyptian men from different strata of society and different parts of the city and hold them in the local jail. Major Shakuri summoned his clerk and dictated an order that was to be broadcast promptly over the local broadcast stations, then repeated every thirty minutes.
ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS: Six peacekeeping soldiers of Iran have been brutally murdered in this city while in the performance of their duties. Such cowardly attacks will not be tolerated. Iran was invited to Egypt by the government and the United Nations to help secure its safety against anti-Islamic terrorists, and we shall do so. The people of Sharm el-Sheikh are required to participate in their own defense, but some outlaw elements have engaged in rebellion and have killed members of the IRG without provocation. Those evil attacks require a response to ensure that rebels will not swim unmolested among the law-abiding citizenry. They must be denied all forms of shelter and assistance.
To underline our determination, a price must be paid for the terrorists who have spread mischief upon the land and are attempting to destabilize the society. The holy word of the all-merciful Prophet, praise be unto him, instructs us that punishment must be in proportion to the crime: “Life for life, eye for eye; nose for nose, ear for ear; tooth for tooth, and wounds equal for equal.”
Therefore, it is decreed that for every Iranian soldier killed, one citizen of Sharm el-Sheikh is to be executed. Six soldiers of Iran were slaughtered, so six Egyptians must bear the responsibility for those heinous acts with their own lives. These executions by firing squad will be carried out in the public square at nine o’clock tonight.
By order of Major Mansoor Shakuri,
Commandant of the Iranian Peacekeeping Mission
Kyle Swanson had not showered all day, because the dirtier he looked, the better his disguise as a common man on the street. The accompanying itchiness and filth did not matter. Tianha and Omar had already left for the Four Seasons, so he was alone to putter around the apartment, killing time and restraining the urge to get out there and do something, anything, to throw another wrench into the Iranian plans. You’re a sniper; you know how to wait. Here he was sitting on his ass during a sunny afternoon, with absolutely nothing worthwhile accomplished.