"Let her go."
"Kharasho," Vasilyeva said. "It is you I want anyway." And in the blink of an eye, the former Russian officer withdrew a knife from her belt and drew it quickly across Wendy's throat. Wendy's eyes rolled up inside her head, and Vasilyev let her drop to the floor.
"No!" Patrick shouted. "You bitch! You murderer]"
"It was you Comrade Kazakov wanted all the time," Vasilyeva said, advancing on Patrick with the bloodied knife at the ready. "But where is this Tin Man armor he spoke of? No matter. Comrade Kazakov only desires you dead. I think I shall bring him a finger-that should be proof enough."
Patrick's bulging eyes shifted rapidly from his wife's inert form to his attacker. He backed away a few stepsthat only made the Russian smile. Patrick raised his hands. "Cut these handcuffs off and let's make it a fair fight."
"I do not wish a fair fight," Vasilyeva said. "Comrade Kazakov only wanted you dead, not for me to give you a fair fight." In the blink of an eye she was on him, and before he knew it her blade had sliced once across his right arm and once across his chest. She smiled evilly. "But he did not say it could not be slow and agonizing for you." Patrick tried to back away, but he tripped and fell straight back. He tried to get back on his feet, but with his hands cuffed in front of him and his feet manacled, he was helpless. "I think," Vasilyeva said, her teeth shining as she smiled at him, "that you should have matching cuts across your throats. Do you not think it would be fitting, General?"
A shot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off the wall. Vasilyeva turned and saw Wendy McLanahan, her torso a hideous blouse of dark red, not fifteen feet from her, leveling the submachine gun at her. "Very impressive, Comrade Doctor-to the very last," Vasilyeva said. She spun the knife around until she was holding the blade, then threw it. The blade sunk into Wendy's chest, and she toppled over backward. "How very touching. You must be proud, Gen-"
She never got to finish her sentence. Patrick had gotten to his feet, kicked the back of her knees to send her down, then jumped up, wrapped the chain connecting his ankle manacles around Vasilyeva's neck, and rolled around to twist it tight. He rolled several more times until the chain was tight, then locked his feet together.
Vasilyeva was a fierce, powerful woman. She was able to struggle to her feet, actually pulling Patrick's body up as she fought to free herself. The Russian clubbed his legs, swung at his groin, and snarled like a wild animal. She started to swing his body around, jumping up and down wildly in an effort to loosen his legs. He hit the walls several times and saw stars. With Patrick stunned, this time she was able to pin his legs back and land on top of him, the chain still wrapped around her neck, her face a contorted mask of pain and rage, with blood vessels breaking all over her face, making it appear as if she were wearing some sort of primitive war mask. She punched his groin, his legs, his chest, and his face, trying desperately to get him to release his grip.
Patrick was bent over in two so far by her weight that he found he was able to grab her head with his hands, tangling his fingers in her hair to help his grip. Using all his strength, he pushed with his legs. Now both of their faces were hideous contortions of pain. They both screamed in unison, loud, furious screams-until suddenly tflere was a loud snap! Ivana Vasilyeva's eyes rolled sideways, her bloated dark red tongue unreeled itself from her mouth, and her body went totally limp.
Patrick lay on the floor for what seemed like a long time before untangling himself from the dead Russian, then crawled over to his wife. He carefully removed the knife from her chest, then held her lifeless body and wept.
He didn't even notice when strong armored mechanical arms lifted him and Wendy up, carried them carefully outside, and placed them in a waiting tilt-rotor aircraft to evacuate them out of Tripoli.
"My brothers and sisters, my fellow Libyans, we have been shamelessly and cowardly attacked by the great Satan, the United States of America," Jadallah Zuwayy intoned. He was sitting in a small, cramped communications center in an underground alternate command post thirty miles south of Tripoli. "Tonight, while you slept peacefully in your beds, the forces of the United States, with help from their stooges the Zionists, launched a brazen sneak attack against the capital of the Kingdom of Libya, attacking the royal palace itself and killing many scores of innocent men, women, and children."
Zuwayy raised his hands as if praying, then slowly curled them into fists. "As Allah, may His name be praised, is my witness, today the people of the Islamic world declare war upon the infidels, the destroyers, the crusaders from across the oceans who attacked our capital," he went on. "May He deliver upon the faithful the strength to crush the enemies of Islam.
"Thanks to the brave efforts of the Republican Guards and the soldiers of the kingdom, I am safe. I will return to the capital and immediately plan the destruction of our enemies. Death to all who oppose us. Death to-"
There was the sound of shattering glass, then the BANG! of a door thrown open. Zuwayy half rose to his feet, looking scared and confused. Men in military dress forced him to his seat again, and two unidentified soldiers stood behind him. Gunshots were heard off-camera-Zuwayy jumped and closed his eyes at each report, expecting it to hit him next. The television viewers then saw Zuwayy's eyes widen in astonishment as a chair was slid beside Zuwayy's and a young man sat down beside the king. He took off his red-lensed goggles, unwrapped his scarf, and took off his helmet…
… and Sayyid Muhammad ibn al-Hasan as-Sanusi, the true king of Libya, smiled at the camera.
"Es salaem alekum, Captain Zuwayy," Sanusi said. He clasped Zuwayy on the shoulder. "Don't you think you should consult the real king of Libya before declaring war?"
"Muhammad? Prince… I mean… King Muhammad… You… you are aliveT He forced himself to smile, then reached out to Sanusi to embrace him. "My brother… you are alive!" He hugged Sanusi, then said to him under his breath, "Play along with me, Sanusi, or we're both dead. I'll see to it that the Republican Guards spare your life."
Sanusi pushed him away. "I am not a ghost, despite all your attempts to turn me into one," Sanusi said. "And you are not my brother. There is a nice prison cell awaiting you, Jadallah. You shall stand trial for the murder of my family, the desecration of my family tombs, for stealing millions from the treasury, and for perpetuating a fraud upon the people of Libya." He motioned toward the door, and Zuwayy was dragged out of sight.
Sanusi turned to the camera and folded his hands before him. "My brothers and sisters, I am sorry for the pain and lies Jadallah Zuwayy has burdened you with for all these years. But even more, I am sorry for the pain and isolation the world has burdened you with since the revolution. Libya has endured much-not only because of the actions of its leaders, but because of the people's search for the truth: the truth of our past, and of our future.
"I am not here to steal your future, like Colonel Qadhafi and Captain Zuwayy have done," Sanusi went on. "I am here because I wanted to expose the fraud, present my evidence of Zuwayy's embezzlement, try to stop the fighting, and so I could return home once more.
"But I only return as a fellow Libyan, not as your monarch, unless that is what you wish," Sanusi said. "I have only a handful of fighters and not much money. Zuwayy commands the Republican Guard, and their loyalty lies with him. I may not live long after I sign off with you tonight. But before I leave, I want to give you some promises. Under the eyes of God and guided by the spirits of my beloved family, I tell you this is the truth:
"The Americans did attack Tripoli tonight, but to liberate it, not to destroy it. Jadallah Zuwayy had planned to destroy the Salimah oil fields, where many thousands of Libyans and fellow Arabs live and work-this after he attacked and killed many thousands of Egyptians with neutron weapons sold to him by Russian black-market arms dealers. Jadallah Zuwayy conspired with Ulama Khalid alKhan of Egypt to assassinate Kamal Ismail Salaam so that the Muslim Brotherhood could set up a theocracy in Egypt; but then Zuwayy killed Khan and many other innocent Egyptians at Mersa Matruh so that he could disrupt the Egyptian government enough to take control of Salimah. I swear by the blood of my father and the memory of my mother that this is true.