"It is quite obvious, Minister," Susan said, looking directly at Zuwayy, her smile gone. "Libya made this deal by threatening Egypt with war if we did not agree to your demands. You have no right to any part of the Salimah project-it is not your land, nor did you invest in any part of the production infrastructure. Yet I accepted your demand, even though I felt my country was under duress, because I wanted peace and prosperity for all of Egypt's neighbors. I made only one request-that you reimburse the European cartel for their shares in payment for their substantial investment in the project. That was more than fair-it was the right thing to do.
"Now, as Libya has done before, you are reneging on your promise. Not only do you demand the shares that Egypt was going to give you for free, but you then demand that you take the next six years to reimburse the European cartel for their shares. This tells me one thing: that Libya cannot be trusted, that Libya-no, that you threewant nothing more than to rape and steal from your own country."
"What did you say?" Zuwayy thundered, his eyes bulging in sheer fury. "How dare you? How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I will have you executed!" Zuwayy lunged for his desk drawer. Fazani, knowing exactly what he was reaching for, used his body to keep the drawer closed. "Get out of the way, Fazani! I'm going to kill this Anglo bitch for what she's just said!"
"No, Jadallah!"
"I said, get out of the way-"
"Madame Salaam," Hijazi said quickly, "I strongly urge you to immediately and sincerely retract that statement and beg His Majesty's forgiveness."
"I will not," Salaam said, rising to her feet. She kept her hooked-crook cane in her hands, as if keeping it at the ready-Hijazi knew what she could do with that cane-but stood calmly right in front of Zuwayy's desk while he still grappled with Fazani.
"You're deadV Zuwayy shouted. "You are deadl Yours will be the shortest presidency in Egyptian history. Your husband will look like Adonis compared to what your body will look like after I get done with it!"
"Good day, 'King,'" Susan said, making an exaggerated bow. "Don't worry about your people-they will be perfectly happy in Egypt. Where do you think you'll be headed next? I think Brazil is nice this time of year."
"Get out!" Zuwayy cried out. "And I'd make sure you know where your bomb shelters are in Cairo-you'll need them!" Salaam and Baris departed, with Shafik backing toward the door right behind them, her right hand invisible under her jacket. "I want her dead, Fazani!" Zuwayy shouted after they departed.
"You can't kill Salaam now, Jadallah-she's more popular than God right now," Fazani said. "If anyone finds out you put out a contract on her, we won't even be able to hide in Brazil. We'll have to live in Antarctica."
"I don't want a piece of Salimah anymore-I want the whole damned thing destroyed!" Zuwayy shouted. "That American bitch has insulted me for the last time!" His eyes spun wildly as he thought. "Launch the attack immediately."
"Jadallah, only a few hundred of the twenty thousandplus Libyans working there now have returned," Hijazi said. "You can't attack now! We'd be slaughtering our own people!"
"No! Launch the attack immediately!" he shouted. "Do it. Let Queen Salaam be the ruler of the largest graveyard in Africa."
Jadallah Zuwayy stomped off to his private residence, kicking furniture and individuals out of his way with equal fury. "How dare she?" he shouted as he slammed the door to his apartment closed. "How dare that bitch spit in my face like that? Who does she think she is?"
"Who, my lord?" a woman's thickly accented voice asked behind him.
"An Egyptian whore that has the unmitigated balls to tell me what to do!"
The woman approached him, naked, holding a crystal glass of thick, potent arkasus, or licorice brandy, in one hand, and a silver tray with a linen napkin covering it. He tossed down the brandy in one gulp. She set the tray down on a nightstand beside a lounge sofa, then kissed the back of his neck and started to massage his shoulders. "Why don't you just eliminate this Egyptian whore, my lord?" the woman asked.
"Because she was just elected president of the Muslim Brotherhood, and she is a guest in my country," Zuwayy said. "Do you know nothing of Arab culture, Russian?"
Ivana Vasilyeva felt for the knot of bone at the base of Zuwayy's long, scrawny neck, then counted the right number of vertebrae up-right there. Snap that bone and Zuwayy would become a helpless lump of flesh on the floor, unable to do anything-except feel pain. But she simply continued her massage. "Forgive me, my lord," Vasilyeva said. "You must instruct me about your country and all its customs."
Zuwayy turned, ran a hand roughly over a nipple, then pinched it, hard. Vasilyeva opened her mouth in a half-yelp of pain and half-moan of pleasure. "The first lesson is: Women must learn to be subservient," Zuwayy said. "You are nothing but bleeding, whining creatures who respond better to the lash than to reason or reality. The quicker you understand this, the happier your life will be."
"Yes, master," Vasilyeva said.
Zuwayy kissed her lips roughly, released her nipple, then lay down on the lounger. He rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. "You were recommended to me because you had a unique talent. Show me. And if you disappoint me, you shall pay dearly for it."
"I understand, master." Vasilyeva removed the linen napkin from the tray, revealing a hypodermic syringe and a rubber hose. She wrapped the hose around Zuwayy's biceps, kissed his right hand, then curled his fingers for him, silently telling him to make a fist. Zuwayy never felt the needle slip into his vein; never felt a thing as Vasilyeva injected the drug.
What an idiot, Vasilyeva thought. She had bribed a Tripoli drug pusher to spread her name around as a trained nurse and anesthesiologist; she had been admitted to the residence almost immediately. Zuwayy liked whores and he liked heroin-he was a slave to both. But apparently he disliked having his nurses and his whores around for too long, so he usually had them killed after about a week in the residence.
That was not going to happen to Vasilyeva.
The drug she had administered was not heroin but thiopental sodium, an ultra-fast-acting, short-duration sedative. Zuwayy was not unconscious, just very relaxed. Vasilyeva removed the rubber tube from his arm and swabbed the injection site. "Do you feel all right, Highness?"
"You can leave me now."
"Not quite yet, Highness. Where is the female American prisoner, the one called McLanahan, and the other American prisoners?"
"The American spies? In my interrogation facility."
"Which ones? Where?"
"Who are you, woman? Why do you care about the Americans?"
"I'm here to take care of your problem with the Americans, if you just tell me where they are."
"I don't care to tell you."
Vasilyeva had to remember to be patient. Thiopental sodium, also known by its brand name Sodium Pentothal, was just a mild sedative, not the much-vaunted "truth serum" fiction writers made it out to be. If the subject didn't want to talk, thiopental sodium couldn't make them do it. Eventually, however, she could get the information from him. She needed to learn a little more about his peccadilloes, fantasies, fears, and weaknesses. One or two more days and she would have him eating out of her hand.
She prepared a small dose of heroin and, as expertly as the first time, injected it into a vein, "jacking it off' by drawing blood into the syringe in and out several times before injecting it all into his arm.
He looked at Vasilyeva with half-closed, dreamy eyes. "Are you going to kill me now?" he asked.
"I have no such orders, unless you resisted," she said.
"Good. I was hoping to get rid of those damned Americans anyway-I should've shipped them off to Mersa Matruh and had them zapped with the neutron bombs along with the others."