assassinating four of the Sultan’s more dangerous half brothers. Because of these debts of gratitude, and because of his own hatred of the great powers, the Sultan had agreed to help Yabril in this operation.
The plane carrying Yabril and his hostages landed and rolled slowly toward the small glass-encircled terminal, pale yellow in the desert sun. Beyond the airfield was an endless stretch of sand studded with oil rigs. When the plane came to a stop, Yabril could see that the airfield was surrounded by at least a thousand of Sultan Maurobi’s troops.
Now the most intricate and satisfying part of the operation, and the most dangerous, would begin. He would have to be careful until Romeo was finally in place. And he would be gambling on the Sultan’s reaction to his secret and final checkmate. No, this was not Arab’s work.
Because of the European time difference Francis Kennedy received the first report of the shooting of the Pope at 6:00 A.M . Easter Sunday. It was given to him by Press Secretary Matthew Gladyce, who had the White House watch for the holiday. Eugene Dazzy and Christian Klee had already been informed and were in the White House.
Francis Kennedy came down the stairs from his living quarters and entered the Oval Office to find Dazzy and Christian waiting for him. They both looked grim. Far away on the streets of Washington there were long screams ofsirens. Kennedy sat down behind his desk. He looked at Eugene Dazzy, who as chief of staff would do the briefing.
“Francis, the Pope is dead. He was assassinated during the Easter service.”
Kennedy was shocked. “Who did it? And why?”
Klee said, “We don’t know. There’s even worse news.”
Kennedy tried to read the faces of the men who stood before him, feeling a deep sense of dread. “What could be worse?”
“The plane Theresa is on has been hijacked and is now on its way to Sherhaben,” Klee said.
Francis Kennedy felt a wave of nausea hit him. Then he heard Eugene Dazzy say, “The hijackers have everything under control, there are no incidents on the plane. As soon as it lands we’ll negotiate, we’ll call in all our favors, it will come out OK. I don’t think they even knew Theresa was on the plane.”
Christian said, “Arthur Wix and Otto Gray are on their way in. So are CIA, Defense, and the Vice President. They will all be waiting for you in the Cabinet Room within the half hour.”
“OK,” Kennedy said. He forced himself to be calm. “Is there any connection?” he said.
He saw that Christian was not surprised but that Dazzy didn’t get it. “Between the Pope and the hijacking,” Kennedy said. When neither of them answered, he said, “Wait for me in the Cabinet Room. I want a few moments by myself.” They left.
Kennedy himself was almost invulnerable to assassins, but he had always known he could never fully protect his daughter. She was too independent, she would not permit him to restrict her life. And it had not seemed a serious danger. He could not recall that the daughter of the head of a nation hadever been attacked. It was a bad political and public relations move for any terrorist or revolutionary organization.
After her father’s inauguration Theresa had gone her own way, lending her name to radical and feminist political groups, while stating her own position in life as distinct from her father’s. He had never tried to persuade her to act differently, to present to the public an image false to herself. It was enough that he loved her. And when she visited the White House for a brief stay, they always had a good time together arguing politics, dissecting the uses of power.
The conservative Republican press and the disreputable tabloids had taken their shots, hoping to damage the presidency. Theresa was photographed marching with feminists, demonstrating against nuclear weapons and once even marching for a homeland for Palestinians. Which would now inspire ironic columns in the papers.
Oddly enough,
The plane carrying Yabril and his hostages landed and rolled slowly toward the small glass-encircled terminal, pale yellow in the desert sun. Beyond the airfield was an endless stretch of sand studded with oil rigs. When the plane came to a stop, Yabril could see that the airfield was surrounded by at least a thousand of Sultan Maurobi’s troops.
Now the most intricate and satisfying part of the operation, and the most dangerous, would begin. He would have to be careful until Romeo was finally in place. And he would be gambling on the Sultan’s reaction to his secret and final checkmate. No, this was not Arab’s work.
Because of the European time difference Francis Kennedy received the first report of the shooting of the Pope at 6:00 A.M . Easter Sunday. It was given to him by Press Secretary Matthew Gladyce, who had the White House watch for the holiday. Eugene Dazzy and Christian Klee had already been informed and were in the White House.
Francis Kennedy came down the stairs from his living quarters and entered the Oval Office to find Dazzy and Christian waiting for him. They both looked grim. Far away on the streets of Washington there were long screams ofsirens. Kennedy sat down behind his desk. He looked at Eugene Dazzy, who as chief of staff would do the briefing.
“Francis, the Pope is dead. He was assassinated during the Easter service.”
Kennedy was shocked. “Who did it? And why?”
Klee said, “We don’t know. There’s even worse news.”
Kennedy tried to read the faces of the men who stood before him, feeling a deep sense of dread. “What could be worse?”
“The plane Theresa is on has been hijacked and is now on its way to Sherhaben,” Klee said.
Francis Kennedy felt a wave of nausea hit him. Then he heard Eugene Dazzy say, “The hijackers have everything under control, there are no incidents on the plane. As soon as it lands we’ll negotiate, we’ll call in all our favors, it will come out OK. I don’t think they even knew Theresa was on the plane.”
Christian said, “Arthur Wix and Otto Gray are on their way in. So are CIA, Defense, and the Vice President. They will all be waiting for you in the Cabinet Room within the half hour.”
“OK,” Kennedy said. He forced himself to be calm. “Is there any connection?” he said.
He saw that Christian was not surprised but that Dazzy didn’t get it. “Between the Pope and the hijacking,” Kennedy said. When neither of them answered, he said, “Wait for me in the Cabinet Room. I want a few moments by myself.” They left.
Kennedy himself was almost invulnerable to assassins, but he had always known he could never fully protect his daughter. She was too independent, she would not permit him to restrict her life. And it had not seemed a serious danger. He could not recall that the daughter of the head of a nation hadever been attacked. It was a bad political and public relations move for any terrorist or revolutionary organization.
After her father’s inauguration Theresa had gone her own way, lending her name to radical and feminist political groups, while stating her own position in life as distinct from her father’s. He had never tried to persuade her to act differently, to present to the public an image false to herself. It was enough that he loved her. And when she visited the White House for a brief stay, they always had a good time together arguing politics, dissecting the uses of power.
The conservative Republican press and the disreputable tabloids had taken their shots, hoping to damage the presidency. Theresa was photographed marching with feminists, demonstrating against nuclear weapons and once even marching for a homeland for Palestinians. Which would now inspire ironic columns in the papers.
Oddly enough,
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