"Impossible," Bashir roared. "You could never smuggle that many men into Uniguay without arousing suspicion. And even if through some miracyou captured the ship and subdued the crew, every special assault team in the West would be swarming over your hide inside of twenty-four hours. Threats to kill the hostages won't stop them. You'd "
"I can take and hold the Lady Flamborough for two weeks."
Bashir shook his head. "You're lost in a dream world."
"How is that possible?" asked Moheidin. "I'm interested in learning how you expect to outwit an army of highly trained international security forces without a pitched battle."
"I don't intend to fight."
"This is nonsense!" Yazid said, shocked.
"Not really," said Ammar. "It's all in knowing the trick."
"Trick?"
"Precisely." Ammar smiled benignly. "You see, I plan on making the Lady Flamborough, her crew and passengers, an crew disappear.
"My visit is strictly unofficial," Julius Schiller advised Hala Kamil as they stepped into the log-beamed sitting room of Senator Pitts ski lodge. "My aides are covering for me, saying I'm fishing in Key West."
"I understand," said Hala. "I'm grateful for the chance to talk to someone other than the cook and Secret Service guards."
She greeted him dressed fashionably in an Icelandic brown wool sweater-jacket with matching pants, looking even younger than Schiller remembered.
He looked out of place at a ski resort in a business suit, polished wing-tip shoes, and carrying an attached case. "Is there anything I can arrange to make your safety more bearable?"
"No, thank you. Nothing can relieve the frustration of inactivity when there is so much I must do."
"A few more days and it will be over," Schiller said consolingly.
"I hardly expected to see you here, Julius."
"Something has come up that concerns Egypt. Our President thought it prudent you be consulted on a recent event."
Hala curled her legs under her and sipped at the tea. "Should I be flattered?"
"Let's say he'd be grateful for your cooperation."
"Regarding what?"
Schiller opened the attache case, gave Hala a bound folder and sat back with his tea. He watched as the soft features of her angelic face slowly tightened as she realized the scope of what she read, Finally she finished the last page and closed the folder. She gave Schiller a penetrating stare.
"Is the public aware of this?"
He nodded. "The discovery of the ship will be announced this afternoon.
But we're holding off any reference to the Alexandria Library treasures."
Hala gazed out the window. "Our loss of the Library sixteen centuries ago would compare to your President suddenly ordering the burning of the Washington archives, the Smithsonian Institution and the National Art Gallery."
Schiller nodded. "A fair comparison."
"Is there hope the ancient books can be recovered?"
"We don't know yet. The wax tables from the ship only provided a few tantalizing clues. The hiding place could be anywhere between Iceland and South Africa."
"But you do intend to search," she said, her interest growing.
"The discovery project is underway."
"Who else knows about this?"
"Only the President, myself and a few trusted members of our government, and now you."
"Why have you included me and not President Hasan?"
Schiller got up and walked across the room. Then he turned back to Hala. "Your nation's leader may not be in control much longer. We feel the information is too far-reaching to fall into the wrong hands."
"Akhmad Yazid."
"Frankly, yes."
"Your government will have to deal with him sooner or later," said Hala.
"If the Library treasures and their valuable geological data can be located, Yazid will demand they be returned to Egypt."
"We understand," said Schiller. "That's the purpose behind our meeting here in Breckinridge-The President wishes you to announce the imminent discovery in your address to the United Nations."
Hala looked at Schiller thoughtfully for a moment. Then her eyes turned and anger came into her voice.
"How can I say the discovery is just around the corner when a search may take years and never be successful? I find it most distasteful that the President and his advisers insist on creating a lie and using me to speak it. Is this another one of your stupid Middle East foreign policy games, Julius? A last-ditch gamble to keep President Hasan in power and erode Akhmad Yazid's influence? Am I the tool to mislead the Egyptian people into believing rich mineral deposits are about to be found in their country that will Turn around our depressed economy and eliminate the terrible poverty?"
Schiller sat silently and made no denials.
"You have come to the wrong woman, Julius. I'll see my government fall, and face death from Yazid's executioners, before I deceive my people with false hope."
"Noble sentiments," Schiller said quietly. "I admire your principles; however, I firmly believe the plan is sound."
"The risk is too great. If the President fails to provide the Library's great knowledge, he will be inviting a political disaster. Yazid will take advantage with a propaganda campaign that will broaden his power base and make him stronger than your experts on Egypt can ever conceive.
for the tenth time in as many years, United States foreign policy experts will look like amateurish clowns in the eyes of the world."
"Mistakes have been made," Schiller admitted.
"If only you hadn't interfered in our affairs."
"I didn't come here to debate Middle eastern policy, Hala. I came to ask your help."
She shook her head and turned away. "I'm sorry. I can't go on record with a lie."
Schiller looked at her with compassion in his eyes. He didn't push her, but thought it better to back off.
"I'll tell the President of your response," he said, picking up his attache case and making for the doorway. "He'll be most disappointed."
"Wait!"
He turned expectantly.
Hala rose and came to him. "Prove to me that your people have a positive lead to the location of the Library artifacts and not a foggy clue, and I'll do as the White House wishes."
"You'll make the announcement?"
"Yes.
"Four days until your address is not much time."
"Those are my terms," Hala said bluntly. Schiller nodded gravely
"Accepted."
Then he turned and walked out the door.
Muhammad Ismail watched Schiller's limousine come off the private road leading to Senator Pitts lodge and Turn onto Highway 9 toward the ski town of Breckenridge. He did not see who was seated in the rear seat, and he did not care.
The sight of the official car, men patrolling the grounds who spoke into radio transmitters at regular intervals, and the two armed guards inside a Dodge van at the road's enumce were all he needed to confirm the information purchased by Yazid's agents in Washington.
Ismail leaned casually against a large Mercedes-Benz diesel sedan, shielding a man sitting inside peeling out an open window through a pair of binoculars. A rack on the roof held several sets of skis. lsmail was dressed in a white ski suit. A matching ski mask hid his perpetually scowling face.