“I would pass the word quietly around ship, sir,” Norfolk said. “Key personnel, but then decide who needs to know. Knowing these folks, they’ll soon start drifting into Combat just to keep an eye on things. General quarters — no, not yet. It will only wear them out, use them up before we really need them. Besides, that Commander Busby — he’s one smart spook.” Norfolk used the Navy slang word for intelligence or cryptological officer. “If it were serious enough to be setting general quarters, he would have let us know.”
“Exactly so,” the captain answered. And it wasn’t a polite comment — Norfolk had reacted exactly as Henry had.
During the pre-sail conferences and staff conferences since they’d been underway, Captain Henry had taken Norfolk with him several times to the carrier. There, they both got to know the rest the staff, and when messages like this came in over the wires, they knew who they were dealing with. And Norfolk was right about Lab Rat — the intelligence officer had an instinct for trouble that was simply uncanny. If it had been more urgent, Lab Rat would have let them know.
“Tomcats are on station, sir,” the air track supervisor said. Two blue symbols were arrowing out from the carrier to the cruiser, the target numbers displayed next to them and the shape of the symbol showing that the computer had identified them as friendly contacts. One of the modes of the IFF was especially encrypted, and would have identified the contacts to the computer as a friendly military platform. Even in full automatic, the Aegis cruiser missile system would not have attacked them.
“Any more word on that submarine?” Henry asked Norfolk.
Norfolk shook his head. “Not a word, sir. But Chief Clark and Petty Officer Apple are champing at the bit to get hold of it.”
Norfolk didn’t have to tell him that. He’d seen Chief and Apple in the sonar shack already, and each one gave the appearance of having been there for several hours. It was clearly not their watch, but they were there anyway, just watching. “Don’t let them wear themselves out,” he warned Norfolk. “They will if you let them.”
Norfolk nodded. “I threw them out about four hours ago, with orders to hit their racks. You think they look rough now, you should have seen them then. It’s a definite improvement.”
“Good thinking.” He grinned down at his TAO, absurdly pleased with him. For just a second, he considered placing his hand on the man’s shoulder, giving it a hard shake. But then he drew back. As satisfied as he was with Norfolk’s performance thus far, it never worked to let an officer think he’d achieved every goal set before him. It could lead to laziness — he was certain it wouldn’t in Norfolk’s case, but that’s not the way he trained his junior officers.
“I’ll be in my quarters,” Henry said. “Call me if you need me.”
Wadi walked in on an argument raging inside his operations center. He stood just inside the door, watching the chaos for a few moments. The men, most dressed in traditional garb with only a few in uniform, flowed and eddied around the wide open space, shouting, gesturing, each one louder than the next. His cousin Jemal stood in the center, striving to be heard over the noise as he shouted at another man instead of attempting to regain control of his people. It was, Wadi knew, his cousin’s greatest failing, this inability to see the big picture, to step into a position of leadership. If he could not control even his own staff, how could he be expected to deal with powerful heads of neighboring Arab states?
No, Wadi was the one to seize the reins of leadership, to take the Middle East into the next era. It was so clear now as he stood there and watched his relatives, his subordinates, his entire staff disintegrate into a squabbling mob in the absence of strong leadership.
And the way to settle this was not to be the loudest, to participate in this game. No, there were other ways.
He stepped into the center of the room, a powerful presence. The men around him who were arguing faltered, tried to carry on their arguments but could not do so under his calm, impassive stare. He let them feel this presence, not speaking, reaching out to each one of them to exert his influence over them.
Quiet spread out in ripples around him, within a few minutes reaching to the farthest corners of the room. Only Jemal refused to yield, continuing — or at least trying to continue — an argument with another officer, deliberately ignoring Wadi’s presence in the room. Finally, when his disobedience became ludicrous even to himself, he capitulated. He turned, and a bright smile of friendship spread across his face.
“Cousin,” he boomed, making a welcoming gesture. “Welcome.”
Wadi stared at him, his face still impassive. He let the full meaning of his displeasure sink in with his subordinates. It was as though he could actually see the power draining away from his cousin, coming to him. Finally, when his cousin’s smile began to falter, Wadi unbent slightly. “Is there some problem?” he inquired, as though sincerely concerned. “I wish be able to make a full report to my father.”
His cousin recognized the threat for what it was. “Of course not,” he said, perilously close to losing his own temper again. “We were simply discussing the next step.”
“Which needs no discussion,” Wadi said smoothly. “The sequence of events is well-established. And all is ready?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
“I said yes.” Wadi could see his cousin struggle to keep his voice down.
“In one hour,” Wadi said calmly, “I will return. The first phase should begin two hours after that, unless I am mistaken.” He glanced around the room, as though inviting comment. “I am not mistaken, am I?”
“No, of course not. All will go as scheduled,” Jemal replied.
Wadi crossed the room in a few strides to reach his cousin’s side. He clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Excellent. And just to make sure, I will assign you to the missile station itself to look after the details. After all, who can I trust more with the sensitive assignment than my own blood?”
His cousin turned pale. “I am of more use here.”
Wadi leaned forward, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You are of no use here. Go — go now while you still have the chance. If my father hears of your performance here, you’ll be executed before dawn. You understand that?”
His cousin trembled visibly, although no trace of discomfort showed on his face. Wadi silently gave him credit for that. “But the Americans — they will retaliate immediately,” he stuttered. “If I’m there…”
“If you are there, you’ll take the same chances as your men. You’ll be by their side, and Allah willing, you will be spared. Then again, if you were to perish today, you would take your rightful place in paradise. I can only envy you the opportunity.”
Wadi turned to his chief of staff. “My cousin is leaving.” His voice was pleasant. “Arrange the transportation immediately. I am depending on you to make sure my orders are carried out.” With that, Wadi turned and left the room. It remained silent behind him.
He walked out of the compound, past the armed guards standing duty at the fence, and headed for the desert. He was aware that he was not yet fully acclimated, yet he found himself with an overwhelming desire to test himself against the desert, to feel it suck the water from him.
He walked out into the desert until the station was just a blurred smudge on the horizon. He felt every care in the world sloughing off him as it receded, felt his soul peel down to its essence until he stood naked before Allah. He fell to the ground, prostrated himself on the hard-packed sand and dirt, and prayed.