Transfer of Power

RAFIQUE AZIZ LEANED back in the president’s chair.

The long shiny surface of the Situation Room’s conference table was laid out before him. Aziz’s eyes were closed and his arms folded across his chest. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he was trying to get some sleep in anticipation of a long night. In front of him on the table was his MP-5The overhead lights were extinguished, the glow of the bank of muted TVS at the far end throwing a dim light.

There was a knock on the door. Aziz’s alert eyes snapped open, and he said, “Enter.”

The door opened slowly, and Muammar Bengazi stepped into the room.

“You asked me to wake you at three.”

“Thank you.” A yawn crept up from his throat.

“How are the men?”

“They are well.”

“Are you making sure they get some sleep? This will be their last chance for a long time.”

Bengazi approached the conference table and placed his hands on the back of one of the leather chairs.

“As you ordered, they are sleeping in two-man rotations for two hours at a time.”

“Good.”

“May I sit?”

Aziz nib bed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Bengazi set his AK-74 on the table and sat. Looking guardedly toward his leader, he asked, “What are your thoughts on tomorrow?”

Aziz unfolded his arms and checked his watch.

“By nightfall we should have the president in our hands, and then”-Aziz’s lips parted and turned upward at the edges-“we will truly have the upper hand.”

“Will you tell them that we have him tonight, or will you wait until the morning?”

“I will tell them in the morning. “Aziz gestured to the TVS.

“They have been reporting that the UN will meet our demands. Vice President Baxter will keep them at bay until he gets his next batch of hostages tomorrow.”

Bengazi was persistently guarded.

“You do not think they will come tonight?”

Aziz shook his head, feeling so confident in his prediction that he didn’t need to give a verbal response.

“I wish I shared your optimism, but after what they tried to do this morning I can’t help but think they are preparing to attack.”

The comment caused Aziz to smile.

“That is why you are so valuable, Muammar. You are so cautious. They will not do anything until they hear the next round of demands.” Aziz tapped the side of his head with his forefinger.

“You need to understand the American mind. Especially the mind of the politician. Being decisive is not in their character. They will put off making a decision until they are forced to do so. Right now they have gained the release of a third of the hostages and they are playing under the assumption that they can continue to negotiate for the release of more.”

Bengazi frowned.

“It makes no sense to me. Surely the military is advising to attack.”

“They probably are, but it makes no difference. As long as the politicians think they can free more hostages without firing a shot, they will do so.”

“Not when they find out what the next demands are.”

Bengazi shook his bald forehead.

“There is no way.”

“When we have our hands on the president, everything will change.

Speaking of the president, how is our little thief proceeding?”

“He says he is still on schedule. Sometime around seven this evening.”

Aziz smiled with anticipation.

“It will be a great moment.”

Bengazi nodded slowly, not sharing in his leader’s complete confidence.

After looking down at the table for a while, he said, “I think we should announce that we have the president as soon as we get him out of the bunker.”

“Why?”

“It will deter the Americans from attacking.”

Shrugging, Aziz placed his hands behind his neck.

“My plan will not change. When I make my final demand tomorrow, I will need the surprise of having the president standing beside me to shock the world into doing what is right.”