"If you permit me, Madame," Shafik said, "I would like to personally apologize to you for the breach in discipline and procedures by the Republican Guards on the day of your husband's assassination. I have served in the Guards for almost ten years, and I have never witnessed such a flagrant dereliction of duties and responsibilities." She removed her red beret, crushing it in her strong hands. "I am ashamed to wear the beret."
"Don't be, Captain-you earned the right to wear it," Susan said. "It was the ones who took bribes and allowed themselves to be lured away from their posts that should strip themselves of the honor of wearing it, not you."
"Yes, Madame," Shafik said. "I assure you, I will do everything I can to avenge my president's, your husband's, assassination. Those who committed that deed do not deserve justice-they deserve retribution."
Susan Salaam touched Shafik on her left cheek and nodded reassuringly. "And they shall have it, Captain," she said quietly but sternly. "The killers of both our husbands shall feel our vengeance." Shafik smiled, nodded, then snapped proudly to attention.
"We have your quarters ready, Sekhmet," Baris said, pointing to a waiting armored staff car.
"I want to meet the commandos first."
"Out of the question," Baris said. "Captain?"
"The commandos have not allowed anyone except supply vessels near the ship, Madame," Shafik said. "The ship is guarded continuously by at least twenty men on deck plus one of the commandos dressed in the strange combat equipment. We have made three attempts in the past two days to sneak aboard the ship and were caught every time. Our next option being considered is a massive assault."
"I don't believe that'll be necessary," Susan said. "They are keeping themselves imprisoned on the ship-I see no reason to risk any lives just so we can take them off to another prison. Let's go have a talk with them."
The Egyptians are being extraordinarily cooperative all of a sudden, Muck," David Luger observed. He had just entered the Combat Information Center aboard the Egyptian frigate El Arish and joined Patrick and several other members of the Night Stalkers, looking over charts and satellite photographs of Libya. "The cordon around us has relaxed-they moved their patrol boats out another halfklick. Still within visual range and easily within helicopter and deck gun range, but it takes the pressure off. All their fire-control radars and jammers have shut down. They've also agreed to send more medical supplies and extra food and water for our prisoners." He set a folder on-the chart table. "More NIRTSat photos, hot off the press."
' "Good," Patrick acknowledged. David looked at his friend and former commanding officer with great concern. Patrick looked bone-weary, with large dark circles under his eyes, his face drawn and haggard. He still wore the Tin Man battle armor-he had taken it off for only a few moments for an inspection several hours earlier before donning it again-and he kept it and the exoskeleton, standing near the bulkhead in quick reach, plugged in and fully charged. "Any word yet from anyone on Wendy?"
"No," Luger replied. "I've put in several back-channel requests for support to the Intelligence Support Agency, Muck, but our status is only a little bit better than the Libyans themselves. They don't go for freelancers, even if it's experienced operators like us. They wouldn't like us even if the White House and Pentagon were supportivebut Thorn and Goff are out gunning for us too, which makes matters even worse. Too many heads will roll if they get caught helping us."
Patrick looked discouraged, rubbing his eyes and lowering his head wearily. "Screw 'em," he growled. "Between Dr. Masters's photo recon birds and UCAVs and a few soft probes by us, we'll find her."
"If she's still alive."
"She's alive, dammit."
"I hear you loud and clear, Muck," David Luger said pointedly. "But I want to make it clear to you, at the same time, that we have no hard information that she survived the attack. The Egyptians say they found bodies, including women-"
"They never made a complete search."
"I know-the ship went down in Libyan waters, not Egyptian waters," Luger corrected himself. "But it went down close enough to Egypt to examine wreckage that has drifted east. They have not found any survivors. If she somehow survived and the Libyans got her, they will keep her tightly under wraps until they're done interrogating her, and then they'll dispose of her."
Patrick's head snapped up, and he glared at his longtime partner with pure seething anger. But he also knew what
David had been through in his life-he definitely knew what he was talking about.
Fourteen years earlier, while flying their first secret mission in the modified B-52 Megafortress bomber nicknamed "Old Dog" out of the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center in Nevada, then-Air Force first lieutenant and B-52 bomber navigator David Luger was left for dead at a Russian air base in eastern Siberia after they made an emergency landing. He survived and was systematically brainwashed and interrogated for years. The KGB eventually convinced Luger he was a Russian aerospace engineer, and he worked to advance the state of the art of Russian stealth warplane technology by several years. After he was rescued, it took three years of intense psychotherapy to return him to normal.
"She's alive, Dave," Patrick said earnestly.
"You don't know that, Muck."
"I said she's alive!"
"Patrick, I'm not going to argue with you," David said. "I will help you tear that country apart to find her. But I will not let you risk your life or any of the team's lives to go in to attempt a rescue unless we get some hard intelligence information."
"You telling me she's not worth it, Dave?"
"Fuck you, General," Luger snapped. "I'm thinking like a soldier-it's about time you start doing the same. You tell me, Muck-how many lives is worth Wendy's? Yours? Three? Five? Ten? Fifty?"
"We risked a couple dozen to get you out of Fisikous in Lithuania," Patrick said. "I would've brought a thousand more with me if I could."
"But you had hard intelligence on where I was," Luger reminded him. "Without that information, wearing that battle armor and marching into an armed fortress like Libya would be suicide even for a hundred commandos. And you know it." Patrick's head slumped wearily again. Luger sighed heavily. "Muck, your son needs you," he said. "Why don't you go home? The CV-22 can lift you off the deck tonight, the Sky Masters jet is waiting in Tel Aviv, and you can be home by tomorrow morning. We'll stay out here and keep searching." He paused, then added, "And you have a brother that needs to be mourned and buried too, sir."
"I'm not leaving without her," Patrick said resolutely. "Dead or alive, I'm taking her home."
"It won't happen that way, at least not right away," Luger said softly. "The odds are a thousand to one we'll even get any information that she was recovered, and about five thousand to one she's alive. But if she beat the odds and survived, the Libyans will keep her in complete isolation until she recovers, which could take weeks, even months. Then they'll start interrogating her. She'll be able to resist for a short time, but they'll finally break her. They won't be as scientific as the Russians. They'll break her, and then they'll discard her."
"Dave, that's enough" Patrick shouted. "This search is going forward, and I don't give a shit how hopeless you think it is. I don't think she's alive-I know she's alive. And as long as I know she's alive, I'm going to plan to locate her and rescue her.
"To answer your question: I'll risk the lives of any man or woman who agrees to stand beside me on this mission, because I know Wendy would agree to stand beside me to rescue anyone on this team. Now, if you have any other problems with this mission or my leadership, I suggest you get off this ship and evacuate to Israel with the others. If you stay, you will obey my orders. End of discussion."