Susan Salaam and General Baris were on board an Egyptian army helicopter, zooming low over the Mediterranean Sea westward, about five miles off the coast. Ahmad Baris had engineered an alternate escape plan for Susan to get out of the city after the attack so secret that not even the Presidential Guards knew about it. After the men and women killed or injured in the attack were taken away by ambulance from the mosque, Baris had Susan taken in several different ambulances to a waiting army helicopter and whisked out of the city.

“I feel like a coward. I feel as if I have abandoned my husband,” Susan said stonily.

The retired general sighed softly, then repositioned his right leg to ease the pain a bit, which easily got Susan’s attention. “Your husband is dead, Sekhmet,” he said softly, like a father speaking to his young daughter. “Being killed at his grave site by more Muslim Brotherhood assassins would not help him or Egypt.” He paused, then added softly, “You know I would follow your husband into hell, and I pledge the same to you. Tell me what you wish, and I will do everything in my poor powers to help you do it.”

“What do you suggest, General?”

“We are heading toward Mersa Matruh, our largest military base outside Cairo, about three hundred kilometers west,” Baris replied. “I can have a foreign ministry transport waiting for us there. The plane can take us anywhere in western Europe—Portugal, England, Belgium, Ireland. From there, we can request protection from the American embassy—you are a dual national as well as a credentialed Egyptian ambassador, so that will not be a problem.”

“I will not leave Egypt,” Susan said sternly. “It is my home now, not America.” She glared at him with her one unbandaged eye. “I’m surprised you would even suggest it, General.”

“I am sorry, Madame. I was only thinking of your safety. I apologize if I have offended you or dishonored the memory of the president by suggesting you flee the country.”

“You are still one of the most respected men in all of Egypt, perhaps in the entire Arab world,” Susan said, reaching up and taking Baris’s hand. “Your loyalty is unquestioned, as is your heart.” She looked at Baris, paused as if considering her words, then said, “You could be president, or prime minister, if you so chose. But you stay in the shadows. Your people need you, General. When will you stand up and lead them?”

“I have led men only once, at the head of a formation of tanks in the Sinai against the Israelis almost thirty years ago, and nine of every ten men that followed my orders died in less than a day,” Baris said. “I was the lucky one— I lost only part of my right leg. I learned that day that I am far more adept at observing and advising than making actual decisions.”

“Nonsense, Ahmad.”