“It’s done.” He paused, looking at her with a strange, faraway expression. “What will you do?”

“I’m going to fight—what else do you think I’d do?” Susan replied hotly. “I don’t care if Zuwayy attacks my country and blows up my bases—I’m going to stay and fight! While my name and my dead husband’s name still mean something in this country, I’m going to use them to bring peace and justice to Egypt.”

“So you can become president?”

“I want to see General Ahmad Baris made president of Egypt. He has the experience, and he is completely loyal to Egypt.” She saw Patrick imperceptibly nod his approval. She moved off the bed and stepped toward him. “Patrick, I need your help.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Be my instrument of war,” Susan said. “I can’t trust anyone: not the military, not even my personal guards—Khan had them all on his payroll, and I think they’re just looking for an opportunity to strike again without revealing their treason. The Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt will certainly move to assassinate me and make Egypt a theocracy. They mean to create a strong union between Egypt, Libya, and the other Muslim Brotherhood states—with Zuwayy pulling the strings. If I can uncover the plot or conspiracy to undermine the law in Egypt in favor of Libya, I can pave the way to elevate General Baris to the presidency.”

“What kind of conspiracy?”

“The conspiracy to kill my husband, for starters,” Susan said bitterly. “I know Khan and Zuwayy were both involved. I also suspect there was some kind of conspiracy to force withdrawal of foreign oil companies from Egypt.” Susan stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his chest, looking deeply into his eyes. “Will you help me? As the wife of a martyred president, I can offer much assistance to you.” He hesitated, his eyes staring at a spot beyond her shoulders. “Is your mission complete? The reason you came here, the reason you attacked Libya—is it over?”

For a moment, it looked as if Patrick might crumble. His shoulders slumped, his eyes drooped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes,” he finally responded woodenly.

“Then take on a different mission—help me uncover and remove the traitors from Egypt,” Susan said. “Egypt is in danger of becoming another theocratic dictatorship—or, worse, a stooge of Jadallah Zuwayy. Help me stop this. Use your power for real justice, not just for a few dollars.”

He looked down at her, and she could see his eyes roam from her eyes to the wounds on her shoulder and arm, the anger in his eyes turning to empathy. She turned her eyes away from his and backed away from him. “What’s the matter?” Patrick asked.