It took longer than ten minutes for Patrick to explain to Fred Jackson and his security police units what all the yelling and screaming was about. But Patrick explained everything to Jackson, including where and when he was going to meet with Sanusi. Jackson offered to have a few of his men tag along, but Patrick declined.

He already had someone on the way prepared to do that.

It was thirty minutes later when Patrick arrived at the rendezvous point, a small glass-and-concrete white building between the base and the Loews Coronado Resort where folks could rent sailboats during the summer. Sanusi and his men didn’t arrive for another twenty minutes. Patrick was somewhat dismayed to see them—he had thought security at the naval base was tighter than that.

Patrick’s concern was assuaged after he met up with Sanusi and greeted him. “I am sorry to be late, my friend— the naval security forces detained us momentarily,” the king said. “I am grateful you explained who we were. They agreed to release us under your supervision—after they took away our ID cards.”

“You had false ID cards?”

“Real ID cards with false photos on them,” Sanusi said. “It is laughably easy to take IDs from lockers in your recreation facilities. We had no trouble crossing the Mexican border with false Israeli passports, and getting on base was simplicity itself—does no one patrol the shores at your seaside bases?”

“What about my wife, Your Highness?” Patrick asked.

“Ah yes—enough of the security lecture,” Sanusi said. “I believe your wife is alive, my friend. She and several Americans are still held by the pretender Zuwayy in Tripoli, in one of his underground bunkers south of the city.”

Patrick knelt down and put an arm around his son, hugging him with joy. Bradley was more interested in Sanusi’s men, one of whom now had a splint around his left knee. “Have your men seen her? Are you certain?”

“We have not seen her,” Sanusi replied. “But the guards have reported to my men that the woman spoke her name, and that name was McLanahan. When this was told to me, I ordered my agents inside Tripoli to try to stay in contact with her, and I made arrangements to travel here to tell you myself. Because of you, my men and I are still patrolling the desert, probing for weaknesses in the Libyan army. We will help you all we can.”

“I’m grateful, Your Highness,” Patrick said. “I just hope we can reach her in time.” He turned away and spoke: “Patrick to Luger, Briggs, and Wohl.”

“Luger’s up.”

“Wohl’s up, in sight, your four o’clock.” Patrick turned, and Sanusi looked in the same direction—just as Chris Wohl peeked his head above the low concrete rim of an adjacent rest room building about a hundred yards away. Patrick had called and asked that he cover him and Bradley during this meeting—just in case.