"Ben, Buddy here."

"Good to hear your voice," Ben said, relief evident in his tone. "What's your sitrep?"

"We have control of all threatened wells, and the bombs have been rendered useless. Also, Major Bean has captured a couple of terrorist commanders and we're ready to interrogate them. Anything in particular you want to know?"

"We have information that terrorist reinforcements are on their way to both Iran and Saudi Arabia. See if you can verify expected time of arrival, troop strength, and which ports they'll be arriving at."

Buddy glanced out the window of the room he was in, and saw increasing darkness as the sandstorm outside continued to build in force. He could hear the wind howling even through the thick walls of the building.

"Ben, the weather here is getting pretty bad. I don't think there's any way you're gonna be able to send Jackie Malone and her troops here any time soon."

"Roger that, Buddy," Ben replied. "It looks like you 177.

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guys are going to have to hold the fort on your own for a while."

"I figured that. Any suggestions?"

Ben laughed, but the sound had little humor in it. "Are you asking the old man for advice, young'un?"

"It never hurts to get a second opinion.""What do you plan to do?" Ben asked.

"I thought I'd spread my forces out, placing them as high up in various buildings as I can to give them a good field of fire on the advancing terrorist troops. I'll make it into a guerrilla-type fight so the enemy's superior troop strength will be nullified."

"Good idea. I can't improve on that," Ben said.

"I plan to have Harley and the Scouts do the same thing. Break up into small, very mobile groups and have them spread out in the oil fields where they'll have plenty of cover. That way they'll be able to hit and run and never stay in one place long enough for the heavy weapons the terrorists will probably bring to do them much good."

"Excellent plan, Buddy. Good luck to you, and let me know if you find out anything useful from your prisoners."

"Hope to see you soon, Dad," Buddy said, and clicked off the connection.

"Ring up Harley on the radio and tell him what I told Ben about breaking up into small squads, Corrie," Buddy said. "I'm gonna go see what our prisoners have to say."

Buddy handed her the microphone, and followed Major Bean to the room where Willie Running Bear was standing guard over the prisoners.

Running Bear was leaning back against a wall, his Uzi pointed in the general direction of three men who were stretched out on blankets. One had a blood-soaked bandage on his right hand, while the other two had field 178.

dressings applied to their lower legs. All were moaning in pain and were covered with sweat and blood.

Running Bear stood up at attention when Buddy and the major entered the room.

"Have the prisoners said anything?" Buddy asked.

"No, sir. They've been too busy crying and moaning to talk much."

"Do they speak English?" Buddy asked Bean.

Bean pointed to the man with the bandage on his hand. "That one does, but I don't know about the other two."

Buddy moved over to squat next to the man. "What is your name?" he asked gently.

The man turned hate-filled, pain-ridden eyes on Buddy, clamping his lips tight.

Buddy sighed. "Okay, I tried the easy way. Now for the hard way. Mister, whatever your name is, you are in a foreign country in a uniform of an enemy state. That makes you a prisoner of war. You are required to state your name and rank when questioned."The man turned his head and spat at Buddy's boots. "I don't speak to infidel dogs," he growled through gritted teeth.

Buddy looked down at the spittle on his boot. He stood up and casually wiped his dirtied boot on the rags covering the injured man's hand, causing him to scream in pain and grab at Buddy's boot with his good hand.

Buddy ground the boot down harder. "Now, I'll ask you once again. What is your name?"

"Baltazar Garzon," the man gasped through pale lips.

"Rank?"

"Field commander of our headquarters," Garzon answered, panting in pain.

"He was on the radio to his boss when we captured him," Bean said in a low voice.

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"What did El Farrar tell you?" Buddy asked.

"You can kill me, but I will say no more," Garzon gasped as sweat poured from his forehead and cheeks.

Buddy looked over at Willie Running Bear. "Would you call the medic in, please?"

A few minutes later, a soldier with a red cross on his shoulder patch entered the room carrying a medical bag.

"h.e.l.lo, Tommy," Buddy said.

"h.e.l.lo, sir," Corpsman Tommy Garza replied.

Buddy winked at him. "I think our guest is in some pain, Tommy. Would you fix him up a c.o.c.ktail that will make him feel better?"

"Aye, sir," Tommy said, hiding his grin by ducking his head. He got out several small bottles, and added a mixture of each to a large syringe.

"What are you using?" Buddy asked quietly, so the prisoner couldn't hear him.

"Phen.o.barbital, scopolamine, and just a touch of morphine," Tommy replied. "It'll put him in a twilight sleep, but he'll be able to respond to your questions, and the beauty of it is he won't even remember doing it."

"Carry on, son," Buddy said, stepping aside so the corpsman could give the injection.

Garzon, when he saw Tommy approach with the syringe began to scream insults and curses in Arabic and to thrash around on his blanket.

"Willie," Bean said.Willie Running Bear put his Uzi down and straddled Garzon, holding the man's arms still so Tommy could insert the needle.

Seconds later, Garzon's eyes rolled back in his head and he began to snore softly, his body completely relaxed.

180 r 180 William W. Johnstone "He's ready for you, sir," Tommy said.

"Baltazar," Buddy said in a low, soothing voice. "Tell me what El Farrar and you talked about."

Garzon's eyes opened to tiny slits and he grinned drunkenly. "The leader told me reinforcements were on the way. Soon we will drive the infidels from the oil fields."

"How many troops is El Farrar sending to do this?" Buddy asked.

"Ten thousand here to Iran, and ten thousand to Saudi Arabia," Garzon answered proudly in a slurred, dreamy voice.

"When are they due, and where are they going to land?" Buddy asked.

"They will be here by dawn," Garzon said. "They will land at the port in Khorramshahr."

"Khorramshahr is about three hundred and fifty to four hundred miles southwest of Tehran," Major Bean said quietly.

Buddy stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That means it'll take them at least twelve to fifteen hours to get here after they unload."

"Yeah, considering the lousy roads and the weather, that's about right,"

Bean agreed. "Even if they bring some choppers with them, they won't be able to fly in this storm."

"Good. That gives us some time to prepare some surprises for the troops," Buddy said.

Buddy addressed Garzon again. "What about Saudi Arabia? Where will the troops land there?" he asked.

Garzon gave a half shrug. "I do not know. Probably Dhahran, but I do not know for sure."

Garzon's eyes closed and he began to snore again.

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"That's about all you're gonna get out of him for now, sir," Tommy said.

"That's enough," Buddy said. "Good job, son."

Back in the office Bean had appropriated, Buddy began to give orders.

"Jackson, get your men spread out in as many of the surrounding buildings as you can. Try to get them high up so they'll have a clear field of fire when the terrorists arrive.""Sir, we found a storage room full of explosives in the bas.e.m.e.nt of this building. How about if I place some of them around the area as mines? It might give the ragheads something to think about and slow them down a bit."

"Good idea, Jackson. You should have plenty of time before they get here to make sure they get a hotfoot when they attack."

"What are you going to do, sir?" Bean asked.

"I'm heading out to the oil fields to be with my team. I'll keep in touch via the SOHFRAD."

Bean stuck out his hand. "Good luck, sir."

"And to you," Buddy replied, taking his hand. "As soon as Corrie can tell Ben what we've found out, I'll be on my way."

182.

Abdullah El Farrar slammed the microphone down on his desk and muttered a curse under his breath in Arabic.

Muhammad Atwa and Farid Zamet, who were sitting nearby, glanced at each other. It was unlike their leader to lose his composure so openly.

Usually, his volatile temper was hidden under a sarcastic demeanor.

"What is troubling you, Abdullah?" Zamet asked in a deferential tone.

When El Farrar was in such a mood, it was best to be very circ.u.mspect lest his murderous attention fall on the wrong person.

"That son of a Babylon wh.o.r.e Ben Raines is attacking our positions in Saudi Arabia and Iran," El Farrar answered hotly.

"Perhaps if we explode a bomb or two, it will dissuade him from continuing to provoke us," Atwa offered.

"I am afraid it is already too late for that. I fear he has taken control of the oil fields in those countries away from us."

"Oh?" Zamet asked, a worried frown on his face. Saudi Arabia and Iran represented the largest oil fields in the region, outside of Kuwait, which had never been under their control. Loss of those countries as bargaining chips would indeed put a crimp in their plans of world domination.

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"Yes. I was cut off while talking with Baltazar Garzon in Tehran, and I have been unable to reach Abdul Muttmain for the past two hours. I fear the worst."

"What about Al Hazmi and Taha al-Alwani in Riyadh?" Atwa asked, struggling to keep the sound of fear and defeat out of his voice.

El Farrar shook his head. "They too have been un-reachable." He slammed his hand down on his desk and glared across the room at his two confederates. "The good news is that from what Garzon said before he wascut off, the invading forces are but small contingents, and my sources in Kuwait tell me the larger reinforcement brigades are stuck in Kuwait City due to deteriorating weather in the region."

"What about our forces that were sent days ago?" Farid Zamet asked.

For the first time in hours, El Farrar gave a small smile. "They are even now landing at the ports of Dhahran in Saudi and Khorramshahr in Iran."

Atwa pursed his lips, visualizing the region in his mind. "Then our forces should be in Riyadh in three or four hours and in Tehran in ten or twelve," he said.

"Exactly," El Farrar exclaimed. "Long before the weather clears enough to permit Ben Raines to reinforce his troops in either area."

Zamet stroked his beard. "Perhaps our men would benefit from your leadership in the area," he said.

El Farrar nodded. "I believe you are correct, Farid."

He picked up the telephone on his desk and dialed a number. "Have my personal jet readied for takeoff," he said when it was answered. "We are flying to Dhahran as soon as you can get it ready."

Atwa tried to keep the fear out of his face when he asked, "We, Your Excellency?"

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