A short, squat man in the uniform of an air force colonel, sat behind a desk in the center of the room, scribbling madly on a pad. He did not take note of Sadiq until it pleased him to do so. When he finally acknowledged Sadiq's presence, he did so with great flourish and feigned surprise. "Ah, my friend! May the Prophet be praised for returning you to our presence so soon! Come, have a seat, and some dates. You must be exhausted and weary from your journeys."
Colonel Nafissi, the second-most-powerful man in Libya and nominal commander of the Libyan armed forces, stood and moved around the desk. He motioned Sadiq to a pair of chairs that flanked a table bearing a tea service and a heaping bowl of fruit. After they seated themselves, Nafissi poured tea for them before he began to talk.
"There is much being discussed. Each day the news from Egypt grows more alarming. The talk that the Americans plan to put troops there is disquieting to many. Your rapid return was unexpected and adds to our concern. What news do you bring us that requires you to travel at such risks?"
Sadiq sipped his tea. How strange that we should prefer the company of the godless Russians in our own lands over the Americans, he thought before answering Nafissi. "Yes, there is much changing in Egypt. They are making another great lunge toward the west — a lunge in which few find comfort, as it is believed to be taking them away from Islam."
Nafissi's ears perked up, as Sadiq knew they would. Any problems in a neighbor's country offered, in Nafissi's mind, a chance for the forces of Islam — under his control, of course — to strike. Nafissi, like his fellow colonel who ruled Libya, had aspirations of power and expansion that far exceeded his country's meager ability. Sadiq knew that had Libya been blessed by Allah with the surplus population that was the bane of Egypt, North Africa would be far different. The sway of Libya's green banner and its brand of Islamic fundamentalism would have united the Arab states — or, more likely, Sadiq thought, brought about total desolation. But Allah had been wise (and the world fortunate), giving Libya only enough people to allow its leaders to obtain the status of a fifth-rate power. That, however, did not stop the dreams, aspirations, and covert machinations that they hoped would someday lead to greatness and importance for their country and, of course, themselves.
Continuing, Sadiq told Nafissi what he had seen and heard in Egypt. After several minutes, he paused for a moment, then got down to the reason for his trip back into Libya. "It is my belief that our opportunity to strike is near." Sadiq let this statement hang as he casually took a sip of tea, ensuring that he had Nafissi's full attention before he continued. "God willing, and if we take advantage of the opportunity he has given us, we can convince the people that their leaders are corrupt and have opened the door for American imperialism to enter Egypt and trample them into the dust as the British had done." Again, Sadiq paused and took a sip of tea. Although Nafissi was trying hard to hide his displeasure at being so toyed with by Sadiq, he maintained his composure and listened attentively with a feigned air of casual indifference.
Sadiq was enjoying himself. Putting his teacup down, he leaned forward, his eyes narrowed to mere slits, his face set in a frown. In a whisper, he continued. "Within three weeks the Republican Brigade deploys to the desert for maneuvers. An American unit, whose equipment is already in storage in Egypt, will be alerted and transported to Egypt to practice their war deployment procedures. That unit will join the Republican Brigade during the brigade's training—"
Anxious to get to the point, Nafissi interrupted. "Yes, yes, we know that. How will that bring about the fall of the Egyptian government?"
Sadiq paused momentarily to ensure that Nafissi's outburst was at an end. Sadiq fought back the urge to smile; he had him. "The presidents of both Egypt and the United States will visit that training. They intend to allow the world to see them and their soldiers side by side, 'friends in peace, comrades in war,' as the American secretary of state likes to say. Can you imagine the crisis and distrust that would result if the two 'comrades' were struck down while they were in the presence of Egyptian forces?" Again Sadiq paused, watching the wheels in Nafissi's mind turn as he considered his proposal.
The possibilities that such a strike would bring excited Nafissi. He tried to conceal it, but his excitement overcame his fagade of self-control and feigned indifference. "There would be a great deal of security. Do you believe that they would allow another assassination such as the one that brought down Sadat? How do you propose to penetrate the wall that the army will build around the two presidents?"
In control, Sadiq sat back, folded his hands under his chin, then opened them as if they were a door while he spoke. "We will walk through an open gate and slay them at our convenience. The risks are high, yes. But the results! Think of the repercussions and acquisitions! The Americans will see a country that has lost two of its own leaders at the hands of its own soldiers — the same soldiers responsible for the death of America's president. What will become of their friendship and trust? And in Egypt, the turmoil will provide the Brotherhood with fertile ground in which to plant the seeds of Jihad against the corrupt and ineffectual Western-oriented rulers." Sadiq became animated. His eyes wide and fixed on some imaginary object, he held the index finger of his shaking right hand pointed toward the ceiling. "And this will come when the Republican Brigade is out of Cairo."
Relaxing slightly and softening his expression, Sadiq turned to Nafissi. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, settled back, and folded his fingers together in front of him. A slight smile lit across his face. "Yes, we risk much. But great rewards belong only to those willing to take great risks."
Again there was a pause while Nafissi considered what Sadiq had said. "Do you really have the key to this gate you believe will be open for you?"
The confident smile on Sadiq's face grew ever so slightly. "Yes, I have the key."
"Who?"
Knowing that knowledge is power and not wanting to lose control of the plan, Sadiq merely smiled. He had Nafissi's attention. "You need not trouble yourself with such trivial details, my friend. You only need to give me the weapon that, God willing, will bring an end to the corrupt government that has been a plague in my land."
Trusting Sadiq less than Sadiq trusted him, but sufficiently intrigued with the man's plan, Nafissi smiled as he held up his cup of tea in a salute. "Yes — God willing."
Chapter 3
For the first time I have seen "History" at close quarters, and I know that its actual process is very different from what is presented to Posterity.
For the first time in days the sun broke through the thick, leaden clouds that had cast a pall across the land. Though it provided little warmth, and the glare caused him to squint, Staff Sergeant Jonathan Maxwell welcomed the sun's appearance. It was a good sign — a sign that perhaps not all was darkness and gloom.
Holding the wheel of his three-year-old red Chevy Berretta with his left hand, Maxwell reached down between his legs with his right hand and readjusted his seat. Four hours on the road were taking their toll. Though he already knew that he would need to stop for fuel before he reached St. Louis, he glanced down at the fuel gauge anyway as soon as he had settled into his new driving position. With a slight adjustment to the car's visor, he was ready to continue his trek west, back to Fort Carson and home.