“The president is dead, Madame,” Ouda said icily, “and his aide de camp and widow are hiding themselves on my base, far from the capital. That is not the mark of any legitimate authority I know.”

“Nonetheless, you will obey his orders as you would have obeyed President Salaam,” Susan said, “or you may discover your value as a commander in the Egyptian armed forces to be greatly diminished.”

Ouda looked Susan up and down with a faint smile. His unspoken words were crystal clear: My value is considerably greater than yours right now. He gave her another appraising look. Susan was very familiar with that look as well: The man was momentarily forgetting she was the wife of an Egyptian president and was looking at her as just another potential sexual conquest. Ouda was obviously accustomed to doing that, no matter who else was looking on. He gave her another half-bow, half-nod and departed.

A woman in uniform quickly stepped over to them, snapped to attention, and saluted. She wore the red beret of the Republican Guards, the elite infantry soldiers assigned to protect the president and other high government officials, and she wore a small MP5 submachine gun on a combat harness on her body. She was shorter and thinner than Susan, and rather small for a soldier, but her dark eyes and firm jaw told an entirely different story.

“Madame, this is Captain Amina Shafik, formerly an infantry officer and a company commander in the Republican Guards,” General Baris said. “She was first assigned to protect my wife seven years ago until cancer took her. She has been my personal aide since. I trust her implicitly. Captain Shafik, Madame Susan Salaam.” Shafik saluted, then snapped to parade rest. “I have assigned her to you as your personal bodyguard. She will stay with you night and day. You must trust her judgment when it comes to your safety.”

Susan extended her hand, and the handshake confirmed Susan’s observation—she was deceptively strong. “I am pleased to meet you, Captain,” Susan said. “Do you have a family? A husband?”

“A brother and two sisters, Madame, both emigrated to the United States,” Shafik replied. “My parents are dead, killed by the Israelis in the Six-Day War. My husband was an officer in the Mubahath el-Dawa, killed in a terrorist bombing of the State Security Investigations headquarters by Gama’a al-Islamiyya.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Captain,” Susan said. She looked at her carefully. “You lost a child as well, did you not, Captain?”

Shafik’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in sadness as the memories flooded back, unbidden. She nodded. “I lost it the day I learned of the death of my husband.”

“It is an enormous tragedy,” Susan said. “But you will learn to love again, and you will find a man worthy of your love. I hope you won’t let your hatred prevent you from having the child you well deserve.”