Once the decision was made, however, no one pushed that part of the exercise much beyond the concept phase. When all was said and done, no one had a firm grasp on what was going to happen or how the exercise was going to go down. Instead, responsibility for that exercise, as well as the briefings to go along with it, was passed to Dixon and Hafez — Dixon was reminded of the old adage that people who ask questions usually get asked to find the answer.
Tuning out the rest of the briefing, Dixon began to consider the problem and formulate a plan and several options. With a little luck he could catch Hafez and discuss the options with him as soon as the briefing was over. Dixon had met Hafez twice and had done some training with his unit. He was impressed with both the unit and its commander. As Hafez had a good command of the English language and was a graduate of the Command and General Staff College at Leavenworth, Dixon saw no major problems with putting the briefing together. The exercise was a different story. Piecing together a combined-arms live fire exercise requires a great deal of planning, coordination, and preparation, not to mention resources. The use of forces from two different armies and an air assault company that wasn't even in country yet complicated the matter. They had eight days in which to pull it together. The sooner they came to an agreement on the concept of operation, the faster they could concentrate on pulling in all the resources and units needed in order to put on, as Colonel Wilford said, "a good show."
Dixon's calculations and gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned, his eyes meeting the impassioned eyes of the Marine corporal who had tapped him. Without saying a word, the Marine extended his right hand, which held a brown shotgun envelope. Dixon took the envelope, whispered a short "Thank you" to the Marine, and then turned back to the current briefer. Half-listening, he absentmindedly opened the envelope. There was a single-page message attached to a yellow routing slip signed by his intelligence officer. Turning to the message without reading the slip, Dixon looked to see who its originator was, then read the body of the message.
The message had been given a FLASH precedence and sent from the Office of Military Cooperation in Sudan. Its first paragraph blandly announced that Soviet forces, with the permission of the Sudanese government, would begin using the airfield at Al Fasher for deployment of a force of unknown size from Ethiopia to Libya commencing 1 December. The second paragraph stated that U.S. military personnel, at the request of the Sudanese government, would be restricted from operating within three hundred miles of Al Fasher for the duration of the Soviet deployment exercise. For several seconds Dixon wasn't aware that his reaction to the message, sprinkled with four-letter expletives, had halted the briefing in its tracks.
Sergeant Johnny Jackson stuck his head into the room where Kinsly sat on the comer of his cot, writing out a response to a message he had just received. The room, barely big enough for two cots, served as a communications center for the team. Jackson coughed to gain Kinsly's attention. "Sir, the major's here to see you."
Kinsly looked up in surprise. "He's up out of bed?"
Jackson shook his head in the affirmative, then stepped back to allow the lanky Sudanese major in. Kinsly rose and greeted the major, offering him the only chair in the room. Still weak from his wounds, the Sudanese major shuffled over to the chair and seated himself.
"Sir, I am glad to see that you are able to get up and around. I hope this is a sign that you will recover soon."
The major did not respond immediately. Kinsly watched him. He was in distress — a distress that was not the result of his wounds. Without saying a word, Kinsly knew that the major had come over personally to inform him that the Soviets were in the Sudan with the permission of his own government. Kinsly already knew that, but he did not let on to the major that he did. To do so would only make it harder on the man.
Without looking at Kinsly, the major told him that due to political necessity, his government had favorably considered a Soviet request to use selected facilities in his country. Furthermore, the major continued haltingly, he had been ordered to inform Kinsly that he and his A Team were to be restricted to the immediate area of the compound during the period when the Soviets were in the Sudan. At the end of his speech, the major looked up at Kinsly. "You must understand, my friend, we have little choice in this matter. As much as it pains me to do so, I have little choice."
Kinsly put his hand on the major's shoulder. It was the first time he had ever touched the man. "Sir, I understand. We each have our duty. Regardless of what happens, however, our friendship will survive."
Looking into Kinsly's eyes, the major smiled. "Yes, our friendship will survive."
As before, Sadiq pulled his friend Hafez into a dark comer of a small mosque. Hafez had debated whether or not to go to the meeting. How easy it would have been to call the police and inform them that Sadiq, a wanted man for years, was in Cairo! But there was no way he could do that without involving himself. The question of how he, a colonel in the Egyptian army and a battalion commander in the Republican Brigade, had come upon information concerning a known terrorist and fugitive from the law would surely be asked. Even if Hafez could come up with a good explanation, there was always the danger that Sadiq would break under interrogation and implicate him in the plot and reveal his earlier dealings with the Brotherhood. Seeing a greater danger in not doing so, Hafez decided to cooperate, but with open eyes.
Somehow he had to find an honorable solution to the problem that faced him. There had to be a weak point in Sadiq's plan that would allow him to escape without losing face, or worse.
Sadiq was confident and quite pleased with himself. "All is going well. The assault party is in place and preparing for the day when we, together, will strike down those who would tear us from the bosom of Islam and the True Faith."
Hafez was nervous. Sadiq actually was involved in something, something that was going to happen soon. But he saw a possible opening through which to escape. "If all is ready, then what need do you have of me? Surely your people are more qualified than I?"
Smiling, Sadiq reached out and grabbed Hafez's shoulders with both hands. He believed Hafez's plea was one of humility, not an attempt to back out of the plot. "No, my friend, you are very important. Without you, all will fail."
Hafez felt his heart sink. He stood there for a moment, half of him wanting to strike down the traitor who stood before him and run, the other half fascinated by the unfolding mystery and anxious to leam more. Curiosity won out. "What possible role could you have for me?"
Letting one arm fall to his side, Sadiq half-tumed and leaned over to whisper in Hafez's ear. "Your tank battalion will be part of a demonstration on December 7, the last day of the American President's visit to the maneuvers."
Hafez felt himself go stiff. He had learned of this only several hours ago, when Colonel Dixon of the U.S. Army had approached him with the mission and several courses of action. The agenda and timing of the visit were secret. How had this terrorist found out so fast?
Sadiq continued. "Both presidents will be on a covered platform, where they will view the insertion of an American company from Egyptian helicopters. These Americans will dig in and defend against a fake attack. U.S. war planes and Egyptian artillery will fire in their support. At the end of the demonstration, a company from your battalion will break through an imaginary force and join the Americans. Some time during that demonstration, when all eyes are looking forward, two Egyptian army jeeps carrying my men dressed as military police will approach the rear of the platform. Men from your companies not participating in the demonstration, deployed in a defensive security arch around the rear of the platform, will allow these jeeps to pass. My men will do the rest."