"My dear, the concept of a united Arab world is a dream, nothing more," Baris said, chuckling despite the strange prickly sensation he felt on the back of his neck. "Don't let the apparent successes of pretentious nutcases like Zuwayy or opportunistic zealots like al-Khan cloud your thinking. The people of Libya don't believe Zuwayy is a descendant of a desert king, and no modern Egyptian will ever believe a man is invested with the power of the gods to rule their land. The Pharaohs are dead, and long may it stay that way." He touched Susan's hand, breaking her reverie, and smiled with relief when she smiled at him. "Even though you are a thousand times lovelier than all of Hollywood's Cleopatras put together, Sekhmet, don't ever be deluded into thinking the world will tolerate an Arab empire."
Susan's smile dimmed as she reached up and touched her eyepatch, then ran her fingers down the left side of her face and left arm, gently tracing the scars and the pain that outlined them under all the bandages. "No one will ever think I am as beautiful as Cleopatra. Zuwayy's and alKhan's treachery has seen to that."
"Don't let revenge and hatred fester inside you," Baris warned her. "Keep a clear head. Understand?"
"Yes, General."
"Good." The military helicopter had a computer terminal at the communications officer's station, so Baris swiveled his chair over to his computer terminal and logged on. His usual list of daily intelligence, status, and situation reports started popping up on the screen. "Our first task is to get you to safety. I…"
"I must go back to the presidential palace," Susan repeated. "I must bury my husband first."
"Your life is in great danger if you go back," Baris warned her.
"I have no choice. If the conspirators want to kill me before or during the funeral, so be it-I will become Egypt's second martyr. My last duty to my husband is to help lead his nation forward beyond their grief." She smiled at her friend. "But I don't want you exposing yourself in a vain attempt to stop any attack if it should come. I want you out of sight, watching, as you do best. Leave me your best and most trusted aides. I think I'll be all right until after the funeral. After that… we will do what we must do. Let's go to Alexandria. Can you find a secure place for us there?"
"The Naval Academy on Abu Qir Bay east of Alexandria-the commandant is an old friend, and he can ensure your safety and security. It's isolated enough to keep us out of sight, but they have helicopter and fast armed patrol vessel facilities in case we must make a quick escape from Khan's goons. Your apartment is less than a kilometer away." But as he scanned the daily reports, he came across a shocking one and read it quickly. Susan noticed his eyebrows lifting higher and higher with each sentence. "What in hell…?"
"What is it, General?"
"Some sort of base-wide emergency happening at Mersa Matruh as we speak," Baris replied, reading the report with growing surprise. "Listen to this, Susan: On the night before the attack at the mosque, there was an attack against an isolated rocket base in Libya, including possible chemical and nuclear material discharge."
"I remember. Kamal was briefed shortly after it happened. We mobilized our border forces, but otherwise did not want to make it appear we were in any way involved."
"That's correct," Baris said. "A few hours later, there were a series of attacks by unidentified warplanes, presumed to be Libyan, against several civilian commercial vessels in the Mediterranean. We were told they were some kind of retaliatory attacks, the Libyans trying to find where the commandos that attacked their base came from. A total of seven lifeboats filled with sixty-three men and women evacuated from one of the ships, a Lithuanian-flagged salvage vessel, and were picked up by our guided missile frigate ElArish out of Mersa Matruh."
"That seems like a very large crew for a salvage vessel. What else? Has the crew been interrogated? Who are they?" Susan looked at the retired general and saw that his mouth had dropped open in surprise. "General? What is it?"
"Our frigate was captured."
"Captured? By the rescued crewT
"This is extraordinary," Baris exclaimed as he read. "The rescued crew members are apparently commandos, led by three men in unusual and unidentifiable battle dress uniforms, carrying powerful but unusual weapons."
"What is the crew complement of the frigate?"
"About two hundred sailors."
"Sixty men captured two hundred sailors on board one of our own warships?" Susan asked incredulously. Surprise, however, quickly turned to wonderment. "How do we know all this, General? Is someone on the crew sending secret messages? Did someone escape?"
"No, Susan-the leader of the commando unit is allowing the captain, Commander Farouk, to send these messages," Baris replied with astonishment in his eyes and tone. "The leader, who calls himself Castor, says that no one on the ship will be harmed and the ship will be allowed to return to Mersa Matruh as long as we promise not to attack the ship as they approach and do not attempt to capture them."
"Who are they? Israelis? Americans?"
"Commander Farouk believes they are Americans, but they are wearing masks and are hiding their identities well. It is apparently impossible to tell the nationality of the leaders-their voices are electronically altered."
"Electronically altered?" Susan thought hard for a moment. Who were these soldiers? They were powerful enough to commandeer an Egyptian warship, one of the most powerful in northern Africa, but yet they couldn't hold their base of operations, a small salvage vessel. If they were terrorists or mercenaries sent to attack an Egyptian target, they were sloppy indeed. They surely would not have let the ship's captain make a call back to base.
The leader decided to trust the Egyptians not to harm them-but just to be sure, they commandeered a guided missile frigate. An interesting blend of strength and restraint, power and caution. Who was this leader? Obviously a man concerned for the safety of his men, but not afraid to use the power at his command. Obviously highly trained and skillful, but not berserkers either.
The leader's nom de guerre was "Castor"-one of a set of twins from Roman mythology. The twin gods, the Dioscuri, were the "cosmic stabilizers," representing darkness and light. One was a man of peace, a horse tamer; the other was a boxer, a warrior. They also protected mortals. When Pollux, the warrior, was killed during the Odyssey, Castor the man of peace made a deal with the gods-when his fellow voyagers needed a fighter, he would die so his brother could live. Susan wondered the obvious-who and where was the Pollux?
Or perhaps was there no Pollux now, and Castor the man of peace was the leader. Perhaps that's why these men didn't slash their way on board the frigate, kill the crew, and simply steal the ship. Could this Castor be convinced to transform himself into Pollux the warrior to protect mortals… or perhaps one mortal in particular?
"I will return to Cairo for the funeral, General," Susan said. "But first we will go to Mersa Matruh to meet these commandos. Make no attempt to retake the ship, but do not allow it to leave, either."
"You want to keep one of our own captured warships sitting off our own shore with a terrorist commando team aboard, and not do anything about it?"
"They captured it, they deserve to stay on it," Susan said. "Give them food, medical attention, women-anything they want or need. Just don't let them leave." She thought for a moment, then said, "Rather, ask them to stay, until I arrive."