“If she is conscious, they may try to interrogate her. That could take days, perhaps weeks. If she talks, they will keep her alive to extract every bit of information from her. That still gives you time.”

For the first time, Patrick reconsidered his plan. Susan was absolutely correct: There was nothing to be gained by going in now. War could break out any moment between Libya and Egypt, or just about anywhere in northern Africa, and Patrick and his team would be right in the middle of it.

But holding back and waiting would put him no closer to rescuing Wendy. It didn’t matter what Libya was planning against Egypt, or if war would break out any time— for him, the most important thing was finding and rescuing Wendy.

“Thank you for your advice, Susan,” Patrick said. “I’ll take it into serious consideration.”

Susan Bailey stood, stepped toward Patrick, and touched his shoulder. “What has happened to you, your wife, and your men is already a horrible tragedy,” she said, “but please don’t compound the tragedy by launching off on an impossible mission against overwhelming odds for an objective that you cannot define.”

Patrick nodded, then opened up the door. “Dave.” Luger appeared within seconds—obviously he was standing very close by. “Please escort Mrs. Salaam outside.”

Susan looked into Patrick’s eyes once more, but his deep-blue eyes were even more dark and inscrutable than before—he might as well have been wearing the strange high-tech helmet right now. She left without another word.

Patrick put on his flight suit and flying boots and went into the command center, where he met up with Hal Briggs. “Glad you got some shut-eye, Muck,” he said. He motioned to a stack of CD-ROM disks inside an open metal briefcase. “Mrs. Salaam brought over tons of intel for us—some of it’s only a few hours old. I doubt if even the U.S. government has this data.” He looked at Patrick closely. His longtime friend was staring at the doorway where Susan Salaam had just exited. “What’d she have to say, Patrick?”

“Same as you—don’t try going into Libya.”

“Well, then I’ll give her credit for more than being a drop-dead stone fox,” Briggs quipped. “What are you going to do?”

Patrick picked up a few of the CD-ROMs and looked at their index labels. He chose a couple of them and headed for the portable computer terminals. “I’m going to do a little target study,” he said.

“What does she want with us, Muck?” Hal asked.

“Same thing that the Central African Petroleum Partners want—to fight and die for them,” Patrick replied. “I don’t know if she wants revenge for her husband’s assassination, or something else—but I’ve got my own agenda first.”