“Sir, we believe the American admiral, Gordon Cameron, is on board.”
“Why didn’t they kill him? They killed nearly everyone else but the one they were sent to kill. They killed his wife, and she was sitting beside him. In fact, they killed a lot of wives, but the one person they needed to kill, they missed.” He shook his head. He was surrounded by incompetence.
The three officers exchanged nervous looks, but none answered.
“On board the submarine, is he?”
The colonel held his hand up to stop the major from answering as he pondered this information. Finally, he asked Major Samir, “And where do we think he is heading?”
“Colonel, there is only one place for him to go and that is to the American ships heading toward Algiers.”
“Why would he go there?”
Major Samir swallowed. He wiped his forehead. “We think, Colonel, that he will take charge of the American battle force and, depending on the situation, rescue either the Americans in Algiers or the American survivors of the USS Gearing.” He deliberately neglected to mention the other alternative: that Admiral Cameron could be moving to avenge the USS Gearing, Sigonella, and Souda Bay.
“What is the status of those war criminals?”
“War criminals?”
“Yes, you fool! Those war criminals floating off our shores — those war criminals that survived the fate of their ship! Those war criminals that we are going to bring back here and execute! Yes, those war criminals, Major Samir. Who the hell did you think I was talking about?”
“Yes, sir, Colonel. Those war criminals,” Major Samir said. He pressed the projector button. “A helicopter took these photos late yesterday. At that time the survivors were about thirty five miles northwest of our coast, floating in the Gulf of Sidra.
They have tethered their life rafts together. The helicopter crew counted eight small life rafts and one large one.” Major Samir motioned to the operator.
The next slide showed photographs of the life rafts with the Americans in it. There was no sign of the USS Gearing.
“Where’s the ship?”
“It finally sank, Colonel, sometime yesterday between ten hundred and twenty hundred hours when this helicopter made its reconnaissance run.”
“Walid!” the colonel shouted, and was rewarded with the man running to him.
The officer saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“How long have the American war criminals been in the water?”
“Over two days, Colonel.”
“Good. Time enough for them to welcome any rescue. Call Benghazi Airfield and tell them to prepare to rescue the Americans. It is time we show the world that we are not barbarians. Of course, they will have to stand trial for war crimes committed against the Libyan nation before we execute most of them. Then, depending on the actions of the Americans, we may allow a few to go home in disgrace. On the other hand, the Libyan people may demand their execution. You never know how the winds of the Sahara blow the dune.”
“Yes, sir,” Walid answered, and rushed to a nearby phone to pass the order.
Colonel Alqahiray returned his attention to Major Samir. “And now, Major, tell me about Morocco.”
“Yes, sir,” he answered, nodding to the operator, who sent the next slide to the overhead screen. A map of Morocco appeared.
“Colonel, Algerian units are poised along the Algerian Moroccan border, but only as a defensive measure. Rebel commandos, who have been in Morocco for the past thirty days, have linked up with their Moroccan counterparts. They are in position for their part in Jihad Wahid and await your orders.”
“How many units are we talking about, Samir?”
“Twelve commando units, but that fails to count the Moroccan military units who are sympathetic to the cause. We expect those units to rise to our side when the event commences.”
“Do we have communications with our people in Morocco?”
“Yes, Colonel, we do. The same way we have with our agents, but using a French web site.”
The colonel nodded.
Walid returned. “They are ready at Benghazi, sir. They have four stripped-down M1-14s on standby to rescue the American war criminals at your command.”
“Good, tell them to expect to execute the rescue operation sometime tomorrow morning. Let the Americans drift at sea for another night.
When they see the helicopters, they’ll come aboard with no problem.
Three nights without food and water should temper any resistance.”
The three intelligence officers looked at each other, but none volunteered that American patrol aircraft had been steadily dropping supplies. The colonel hated to be wrong, and Major Samir was not going to be the one to tell him. He would bide his time. His moment would come later.
Walid saluted. Samir locked eyes with Walid momentarily before Walid looked away and returned to the telephone.
Colonel Alqahiray discovered early in his military career that issuing one order at a time and seeing it properly carried out worked better than expecting his lesser-educated force to perform numerous orders perfectly. He va ingloriously believed that there were few such as him who were capable of the intellect to balance a multiple-tier operation such as Jihad Wahid.
“Very well, Major, tell me about the Italians and Greeks. Do we have to worry about them conducting another strike against us?”
“No, sir. NATO has ordered everyone to stay at least two hundred kilometers north of our coast while they debate an appropriate response to our attacks.”
He laughed. “Stupid Westerners. I presume the French are leading this effort?”
“The new French general who replaced the dead American admiral has so ordered it.”
“What are the French doing?”
“A French battle group sailed this morning toward Algeria, and has issued a warning to the new government there, and to us, that they will hold us responsible for the safety of their citizens. Further—”
The colonel tossed his cigarette down and gripped both arms of his chair as he leaned forward.
“Wait a minute! What do you mean, hold us responsible for the safety of their citizens? Why would they warn us about the situation in Algeria?”
The major glanced at the other two officers, who shook their heads. “I don’t know, sir.” He looked to Walid for support, but the officer was deep in conversation on the phone.
The colonel thought a minute. “The only reason they would issue such a d6marched to both us and Algeria is that they know something about our plans.”
“It could be, Colonel. It could also be that after the attacks on the American bases, they are concerned about their citizens in Libya.”
“Could be, but we have never done anything to antagonize the French.”
“No, sir,” one of the two officers with Major Samir volunteered. “The French specifically identified their citizens in Algeria as being the ones that they would hold us responsible for.”
“You sure?” “Yes, sir. I’m sure,” he said. Sweat broke out on his forehead. In the future, he would not pass up an opportunity to keep quiet.
The colonel leaned back to ponder this development.
Walid appeared beside Colonel Alqahiray and reported the relay of the rescue order.
“Walid, have we seen any indications that the French are aware of Jihad Wahid?”
Walid shook his head.
The other intelligence officer with Major Samir spoke up. “Colonel, the merchant vessel Shanghai reported an overflight by a French Atlantique in the Gulf of Aden, following their delivery of the program for event zero zero one.”
“I don’t like this. It makes me nervous and uncomfortable when I don’t fully understand something. Find out more, but say nothing to our friends in the east or to our comrades in Algeria.”
The three officers acknowledged the colonel’s directions. The intelligence briefing slide faded, to be replaced by a map showing the location of Algerian and Libyan Army units along the border of Tunisia.