Kareem noticed his leader's eyes were red-rimmed and inflamed from his anger.

"What is it, my friend?" Kareem asked, his voice gentle and una.s.suming.

"My family's refinery at Al Basrah has been attacked by the infidels."

His eyes looked up from the table to fix on Kareem's and Araman's. "It has been almost completely destroyed."

"Do they know who is responsible?" Kareem asked.

295.

Farrar sighed. "They found several bodies, but they had no identification or national markings on them. They appear to be Anglos, probably Americans.""How about your family's home?" Araman asked. "Didn't that devil Ben Raines threaten to destroy it also?"

Farrar glared at him. "So far it has been left alone. My father has doubled the security around it and has it under constant air cover, but he is not sure that is enough. He has decided to move the family members to secret living quarters until this is over."

"I heard you also mention something about our troops and equipment that were to be sent," Araman said. "Is there some problem with that too?"

Farrar slammed his hand down on the table, making Kareem and Araman jump.

"Yes. When my father attempted to wire payment for the equipment the Germans and the South Americans were going to sell us, the bank informed him all of the money from my account had been transferred to another account in a Swiss bank," Farrar said in a low tone, as if he were too depressed to be angry any longer.

"Has he checked with the Swiss bank?" Kareem asked, knowing that Farrar did indeed have some other accounts at various banks in Switzerland.

"Yes. The bank denies all knowledge of where the money is. It was transferred into a new account set up in my name, and then almost immediately transferred out to another account in the Cayman Islands."

"What does the bank in the Cayman Islands say about the account?" Araman asked.

Farrar shrugged, a defeated look on his face. "They will, of course, say nothing. No amount of pressure from my father has been able to sway them."

"How much did they steal?" Kareem asked, knowing Farrar had been financing their war against the Americans out of his own pocket.

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"Almost a billion and a half dollars," Farrar answered, his voice hoa.r.s.e.

"A billion and a half?" Araman asked incredulously, thinking that if he had that much money he would have been more than content to live his life in indescribable luxury and leave the fighting of wars to less fortunate men.

"What about your father?" Kareem asked. "Can he lend you the money to pay for the equipment against your future oil revenues?"

Farrar laughed, though the sound was more sad than mirthful. "That's just it," he said. "They also took all of the money out of my father's account in Iraq. The family has no money left for war equipment."

"What about his and your money in Switzerland?" Kareem asked.

Farrar shook his head. "Father says that money will be needed to pay for the repairs to the refinery and he will not authorize me to use any of it for our war efforts here."

"Your father was always against our plan to take over America," Araman said bitterly."Be careful how you speak of my father, Osama," Farrar said dangerously.

"Your very life depends on showing my family the proper respect."

"But Abdullah," Araman protested, "what will we do now? We have no more money to pay the troops or to buy supplies or ammunition."

Farrar stroked his chin. "As for the troops, now that they are here with no way to return home, they will fight without pay. They will have to forage for food and ammunition to keep fighting, or else they will die at the hands of the infidels," he said. "They have no other choice."

"Then," Kareem said, standing up and trying to look hopeful, "we will just have to defeat the infidels with the troops we have and do without the hoped-for reinforcements."

Farrar stood up also. He placed his hand on Kareem's 297.

shoulder and smiled, though it was clear to his friend that his heart was not in it.

"You are a good and true friend, Mustafa, and you are right. We will continue our battle against the infidels until it is clear we have no chance of winning."

Osama bin Araman got to his feet, a fierce grin on his face, his teeth showing white against the dark brown of his skin. "You are both mad," he said, stepping around the table to stand next to them. "But then, so am I. We will continue to fight and to die for Allah!"

298.

When Buddy Raines and the SEAL team finally made it to the sh.o.r.es of Kuwait, they pulled the Zodiac up on a beach where hundreds of families were bathing and lying in the sun.

As a friendly crowd gathered around the disheveled, sweating, exhausted men, Buddy held up his hands. "I've got a really nice little boat here I'll trade for a ride to the city," he said.

A potbellied man with a full beard pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He examined the boat and stared at the men with narrowed eyes. He pointed at the stack of Uzis in the bottom of the boat, and then in the direction of Iraq from whence they'd come.

"Have you been on a ... mission to our neighbor Iraq?" he asked.

Buddy looked at Stryker, not sure of how to answer. After a moment, he nodded his head slowly.

"And this mission, was it successful?" the man asked as the crowd hushed.

Again, Buddy nodded.

"Then, my friends, you may keep your fine boat. I will take you to the city-no charge!" he said laughing, causing the entire crowd to break out into cheers.299 When Buddy and the SEALs arrived at the airport where they'd left the helicopters, they were met at the gate by the general in charge and the oil minister Buddy had dealt with before.

"Ah, Mr. Raines," the oil minister said, his face frowning. "So nice you could join us again. We've been worried about you since you didn't return after your helicopter ride."

"Uh ..." Buddy said. "We, uh, decided to take a ride on the Gulf and kinda got lost."

"Yeah," Stryker said, his lips turned up in a half grin, "we were lucky to find our way back at all."

"Have my men left yet?" Buddy asked while some soldiers loaded the Zodiac onto a truck and he and the team were escorted to a large SUV for the ride back to the base headquarters.

"No," the oil minister said. "They've been killing time making unnecessary adjustments to the helicopters until you could return."

Buddy tried to suppress a smile. The wily old minister had seen through their plan from the beginning.

"In fact, I've just been informed," the minister continued, "that there was a terrible explosion at one of the refineries in neighboring Iraq while you were gone."

"Is that so?" Buddy asked, wondering just how much trouble he was in.

"Mr. Raines," the minister said severely, looking over the back of his seat at the team, "I am not a fool, and I resent being used in this way so you could mount a strike against the Farrar family."

Buddy opened his mouth to speak, but the minister held up his hand. "In fact, I plan to file a formal complaint with the United Nations about your conduct in this affair."

Buddy sank back in his seat. Now the fat was really in the fire.

"However," the minister continued as he turned back around to face the front of the car, "my desk is extremely 300.

full just now, and it may take a while before I get around to preparing the paperwork necessary for such a complaint."

"How long a while?" Buddy asked.

"Oh, a year . . . possibly two," the minister replied. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at Buddy. "Our friends the Iraqis are sticklers for protocol, the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. I must make sure the complaint is worded exactly right, and these things take time."

Buddy looked at Stryker and grinned. They were in the clear after all.

"I am sure your report will be most accurate, your excellency," Buddy said."Yeah," Stryker said, "you wouldn't want to make a mistake and spell any of our names wrong."

Back at base headquarters in the SUSA, Buddy shook hands all around with Stryker and his team. "Good job, men," Buddy said.

Stryker nodded. "All in a day's work, sir."

"And Matt," Buddy added.

"Yeah?"

"I'm putting all of you, including the men who died, in for Bronze Stars for heroism."

Stryker stood up straight. "That's not necessary, sir. We were just doing what we were trained to do."

"I know it's not necessary, Matt, but you and your men earned it."

Stryker saluted, and left to report back to Mike Post about the mission and its success.

In Mike's office, Buddy filled him in on the mission, including the oil minister's reaction to their little deception involving the helicopters.

Mike grinned. "That is a relief. I was more than a little 301.

301.

worried about how kindly Kuwait would take to being used in such a manner."

"Evidently they don't have any more love for Iraq than we do, Mike,"

Buddy said.

"Well, you did a good job and your dad's gonna be proud of you," Mike said. "Now, why don't you take a couple of days of R and R. I've got to fly back to Indianapolis and fill Ben and President Osterman in on the details. This is too sensitive to trust to transmission over open lines."

Mike was taken straight from the base's landing field to a meeting of Claire Osterman's cabinet and Ben and his team that was going on when he arrived.

"Ah, Mike, glad you got here in time to join us," Ben said, waving him to a seat.

While he was getting settled, Coop got up from his chair, poured Mike a cup of coffee, and carried it to him.

"We were just discussing the progress Claire's country is making against the terrorist invasion," Ben said.

General Maxwell G.o.ddard stood up. "To continue," he said. "General Raines's Scouts along with our Rangers have stopped the invaders'

advance. They've been contained along lines that they had forty-eight hours ago and haven't moved significantly since then.""From reports I've received from my Scout commanders," Ben said, "the citizens have been more than a little help in containing the terrorists."

The general cleared his throat and glanced at Claire. "Yes, uh, that is my understanding also. While I still don't agree with your plan of arming the ordinary citizens, General Raines, it seems to have reaped big rewards in defeating the invaders."

Ben grinned. "Yeah. I seem to remember an old doc.u.ment that says there's nothing like a well-armed populace to make it tough for tyranny," Ben said.

302.

"Well, as far as I can see, barring any reinforcements of men or materiel, we should have the last of the terrorists either killed or captured within a week at the outside," the general said.

Ben glanced at Mike. "You have any news for us concerning the possibility of reinforcements?" he asked.

Mike nodded. "There will be no reinforcements of either men or equipment," he said.

"How can you be so sure?" Claire asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

"The Farrar family has suffered a series of rather devastating setbacks recently," Mike said, a small smile curling the corners of his lips.

"What sort of setbacks?" Claire asked.

"The main source of the family's income, a refinery at Al Basrah, was destroyed two days ago by an explosion of undetermined origin."

"But surely they have other a.s.sets?" Claire asked, smiling at Mike's choice of words.

"Unfortunately, through an unexplained series of bank errors, all of their bank accounts have disappeared," Mike said, openly grinning now.

"Disappeared?" Claire asked.

"Yes. It seems through a computer glitch of some sort, over three and a half billion dollars of their money was transferred to offsh.o.r.e accounts in the Cayman Islands, and no one seems to know what happened to it after that."

"So, the men who started all this are broke?" Claire asked with a smile.

"Poor as the proverbial church mice," Mike said. "In fact, the Canadian government has rescinded their leases on the lands off your coasts due to nonpayment, and informed Iraq the men and equipment left there are to be removed immediately, if not sooner."

"That's a relief," Claire said, "not to have them sitting there waiting to cause more trouble."

303303.

"Claire," Ben said, "in light of this news, I'd like your permission to begin recalling my Scouts and replacing them with your regular troops.

I'd like to get my boys home as soon as possible."

Claire glanced at General G.o.ddard, who nodded. "Sure, Ben," she said. "I think the general can handle it from here on out."