Patrick decided not to go to the front door but try for the equipment manager’s office, which had an exit into the gymnasium. He heard footsteps sliding around the tile floor behind him. He kicked a chair over toward the front door to try to make it sound as if he was headed in that direction, then ran as hard as he could to the equipment manager’s office. Good—no one around. He tried the door—even better, it was unlocked. Patrick dashed in ...

... and immediately a fist rapped him on the side of his head. He went sprawling. Bradley screamed. Patrick raised the gun, but he couldn’t make his eyes focus, and he didn’t dare try to aim at any shape he saw in front of him, fearful it would be his son. “Get the hell away from me!” he shouted over Bradley’s screaming. “Get away or I’ll shoot!” But at that instant a large blur raced across his eyes, and the gun was knocked from his hand. “Bradley!” he shouted. He curled himself over his son, pressing him into a comer up against a file cabinet, shielding him as best he could. “Stay down!”

“It’s all right, General, it’s all right,” he heard a familiar voice say. ‘Tell your son to calm down. You are in no danger.”

“Who . . . who is it?”

“Just relax, my friend. Relax.” His vision did clear a few moments later .. .

... and when it did, he saw the smiling, boyish face of King Idris the Second of Libya, Muhammad as-Sanusi, hovering over him. “You ... Your Majesty, what in hell are you doing here?” Patrick said. He got Bradley up and calmed him down.

“Whatever I’m doing, I don’t think I’m doing it very gracefully,” Sanusi said. He gave commands in Arabic, and his two men disappeared. “I need to speak with you immediately, General McLanahan. It is most urgent. Where can we meet?”

“For Pete’s sake, Your Majesty, a phone call would’ve been better,” Patrick said. He couldn’t help but smile at Sanusi’s wry grin.

“I apologize, my friend,” Sanusi said, “but my men went about their task too enthusiastically, and you reacted most unexpectedly. But I need to speak with you. It is very important.”

“How did you get on base?” Patrick asked. “The security on this base has never been tighter. How . . . ?”

“It is about your wife, Wendy McLanahan,” Sanusi said.

Patrick’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Bradley stopped whimpering and broke out in a wide, teary-eyed smile. “Mommy . .. ?”

“Fifteen minutes. Silver Strand State Park, east side, near the boat rental shop.”

“I know where it is.”

“Then be there in ten minutes,” Patrick said. Sanusi disappeared—Patrick had no idea how he expected to get out of the gym after the commotion they started, but somehow he knew he would. “Let’s go, Bradley.”

“Are we going to see Mommy?” he asked excitedly. Patrick did not—could not—answer.