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.He smiled pleasantly.“Good evening,” he said in French.“Who are you!” the president demanded.His eyes shot to the door leading onto the street where Institut De’fense security guards were positioned along the avenue.Behind the apartment were his personal guards, hidden along the back wall, next to the alleyway that led to Ile de la Cité.The American frowned and took a step forward.“We have a little problem,” he said and then slipped into English.“We would appreciate your help.”The president cursed.“What—who are you! What do you want!”“Simple.We want four men.For now.Others will follow.But for now we would be satisfied with Sheik Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, Abdul Qadus, Abu Rawalpindi, and Iftikhar Khanum.You know these men.You know who they are and you know where they live.We think it would be a good idea if you were to take them into custody tonight.”The president looked confused and then worried.“Get out of here!” he cried.“Mr.President, you need to understand.Such men will not find safe harbor in your nation any longer.Even as we speak we have tails on them.If you want them safe, arrest them.This evening.Right now.We will give you half an hour, not one second more.If these men are not taken into custody, our snipers will take them out.I promise you, not one of them will live through the night.”“This is not our problem! This is not our war!”“I believe, Mr.President, history shows you are not adverse to war.What you seem to be adverse to is victory, but that isn’t the point.Now we are providing you opportunity to finally take a stand.S’il vous plait, take this opportunity to join the winning team.”The president fumed, his face puffing with rage.“I know you,” he stammered.“You’re with—”“Of course, Mr.President.You know who I am.Now, sir, I believe you were telling me that you have recently had a change of heart, that you understand the necessity of doing your part.That is fine news.We look forward to your cooperation.And I suspect over time we will have other suggestions on how you might assist.I’ll report to my president that you were willing, even anxious, to join in our cause.”The president was speechless.Behind him, his mistress began to stretch in her bed.He glanced back at her and turned away from the door to move down the hall.His eyes blazed in anger, his face flushing red.A purple vein in his balding forehead pumped with every beat of his heart.“Listen to me, you arrogant fool,” he hissed.“What were you thinking, following me here! Get out! Tell your president that cowboys are not welcome here.We are a civilized people.This is not how we work.”The American agent reached into his coat and extracted a small CD case.“Is this how you work, Mr.President?” He stepped forward and pushed the CD toward the president.The French leader stood his ground.“Get out!” he cried.“I think when you hear some of your conversations we have captured on this disk, you might be more willing to help us.In fact, we are betting you will.”The president kept his hands at his sides, refusing to take the CD.The American smiled and placed it carefully on the table.“There is more, Mr.President.Lots more, in fact.We have video.Documents.Money trails.The whole thing.And we’re not talking about some tawdry affair with some student mistress or aide.It appears your wife is the only individual in France who doesn’t know about those.This is the good stuff, the bad stuff—the stuff, I suspect, you really need to keep to yourself.We’re talking criminal indictments.Some very powerful men, even more powerful than yourself, would really appreciate you keeping your business dealings just between you and your friends.” The man glanced at his watch, then turned and moved for the back door.“Twenty-seven minutes, Monsieur President.We want those men in custody.There will be further requirements.I look forward to working with you.”The man turned and left, slipping through the back door.The president waited, listening, hoping for shouts or gunshots from his security guards in the alley.But the misty evening was quiet.Not a sound did he hear.He stood without moving for a very long time, staring at the floor, then picked up the disk and turned for his laptop computer.Minutes later, he emerged from the apartment, a sickly look on his face.His private car was waiting.He jumped in without a word.Mudhnib al Auda Presidential PalaceFive Kilometers South of Riyadh, Saudi ArabiaThe four U.S.Army Special Forces Delta soldiers watched from the darkness, forty meters beyond the perimeter fence.The Saudi presidential security guards moved behind the chain-link and barbwire, aloof, tired, and clearly uninterested.It was just after four in the morning.Sunrise was a little more than three hours away.The Saudi soldiers were on a normal patrol, guarding one of the two dozen or so presidential palaces the king visited when he had a little time on his hands.Very rarely, however, did members of the royal family come to Mudhnib al Auda.And even as they walked the fence, the guards didn’t realize that the King of Saudi Arabia slept inside this palace this night.They had seen the motorcade and entourage, but decoys moved throughout the kingdom all the time, and they had learned that black limousines didn’t always mean that the king or his family was near.Truth was, the guards, three of twenty that were responsible for palace security, had long ago ceased to speculate if the king was inside.But while the Saudi guards didn’t know where the king was, the Americans did.The U.S.soldiers’ eyes were barely visible atop the desert floor, their bodies completely buried under a layer of sand.Perfectly camouflaged and deadly silent, they had been waiting for almost an hour for the three guards to pass.The Saudis walked in silence, quietly checking the security of the outer fence.The first of the U.S.soldiers, the squad leader, slowly moved his fingers over the sand.The adrenaline was pumping, causing a constant rush in his ears.His rifle was already positioned, wrapped in plastic to protect it and buried in the sand, with only the scope and muzzle exposed.“Okay,” he whispered into the tiny microphone at his throat, his voice no louder than a silent wind.“Lead has the target on the east.White brim hat.Cigarette.Two, take the fat one behind him.Three, you’ve got the straggler.Four, if we need follow-up, you got it.Copy all!”Two.” “Three.” “Four,” the squad leader heard in reply.He moved his head down and peered through his night vision gun site.“In three,” he announced, then counted in his mind.There was a faint puff, a flash of smoke, and a nearly silent thooth.Behind him and to his left he heard two other silenced shots fired.The squad leader’s target reached to his neck, then fell to his knees.The U.S.soldier heard a gasp as all three men were down.The Deltas didn’t hesitate.Bursting from the dirt like some kind of underground monsters, they emerged from the sand and moved toward the fence [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]