* * *
“Are you sure, Astaria? Are you absolutely sure?” Lelia leaned back in her office chair and closed her eyes. She was beyond exhausted. Like all her soldiers, she'd been up for nearly forty hours straight. Suspicion about the ease with which they were able to take back the country had forced her to put Astaria to work investigating the mysterious coup attempt they'd been able to put down in less than three days.
“Would I say such a thing if I wasn't sure? I've got sworn statements, and even some documentary proof.” Astaria rubbed her bleary eyes. Their bright color against her richly toned skin made the redness even more evident. She slid her lanky form into Lelia's guest chair.
Lelia struggled to open her eyes. Nothing less than treachery of the worst sort would be enough to keep her awake at this point. Unfortunately, that seemed to be precisely what Astaria's investigation had revealed. She stood and began pacing the sparse confines of her office. She'd always planned to decorate it but had never gotten around to it. Now, she barely noticed the white walls and the battered, secondhand furniture. She picked up a set of dumbbells from a corner and began doing hammer curls, trying to contain her rage but doing a very poor job of it. At least the exercise would give her some much-needed energy.
When she could bring herself to speak, she said, “You were absolutely discreet.” She didn't make the statement a question. Astaria was an old hand at making judicious inquiries. She possessed the tact, ability to dissemble, and political abilities Lelia lacked. All these traits made her an ideal second, and Lelia always appreciated her expertise in these delicate situations. Astaria didn't dignify the observation with a response, and Lelia wasn't expecting one. She walked over to the cabinet across the room from her desk and poured a glass of water. After taking a long, gulping swallow, she gestured toward Astaria.
“Tell me once again. From the beginning.”
* * *
Lelia steepled her fingers as she finished briefing the Colonel on the resolution of the coup attempt. Fortunately she had worked through the chronology of events so many times in her own mind that she was able to maintain brevity without sacrificing thoroughness. Repetition also made it possible to give the briefing while engaging her brain as little as possible. This was a good thing. Even hours later she still hadn't come to grips with the facts revealed by Astaria's investigation.
The Colonel grinned broadly. The wrinkles around his eyes showed in sharp relief against his teak complexion. He walked over to his credenza, raising an elegant cut-glass liquor decanter in her direction. When she declined, he poured himself two fingers of bourbon, then perched on the corner of his strikingly unadorned desk. Publicly, the Colonel was given to grandiose gestures and ornate palaces, but the private man lived an almost ascetic life, excluding his love for boutique bourbon, of course.
“Well done, as usual, Sergeant. Of course, I expected nothing less from you.” He made a pointed gesture toward her chest, bare of any medals or awards. She had earned many but rarely wore them. “You've definitely earned the Croix de Laritrea.”
Lelia shook her head. The croix was her country's highest military honor, and she certainly hadn't earned it.
Al-Fariq stared at her, clearly taken aback by her response. “I've offered you generous compensation before. Are you saying you've come to your senses? We can set up a special account…”
Lelia rose from her chair, automatically assuming the at-ease position. “No, Colonel. I have not earned a reward. I would, however, like to ask a question.”
The Colonel raised his brows, then took a sip of his drink. Despite his avowals to be a devout Muslim, he didn't adhere to the religion's proscription against alcohol. He had an annoying habit of obeying only those rules he found convenient. It was good to be the king, even if false modesty compelled him to use only his military rank.
“Please, do ask your question.”
“Why would a man start a coup against himself?”
He opened his mouth as though to speak. After a long pause, he seemed to rethink what he'd planned to say and walked over to the credenza again. He took his time refreshing his drink.
“I don't suppose it would do any good to deny involvement?”
“Deniability is not plausible in this instance. We have concrete evidence of your complicity. Now I just want to know why.”
The Colonel cut off a harsh laugh as he returned to his handmade, custom-leather desk chair. “Sergeant, you're an educated woman. You could teach classes on the art of war.” He cut off another bark of laughter. “In fact, you do.”
Lelia clenched her fists behind her back in an effort to restrain herself. Instead, she recited, “A leader instigates an insurgency against himself to draw out his enemies so that he may know who they are and deal with them accordingly,” she ground out the words through teeth clenched so tightly she was amazed they hadn't disintegrated.
He raised his glass in salute. “Precisely. I had to know who my enemies were.” He shrugged. “This was the best way to find out.”
“And you construed some absurd reason to send us out of the country…”
He nodded. “Yes. Yes. You and that Guard of yours are just too efficient. Every time my people would try to start a coup, you would stop it before it could even begin.”
“That's odd. I thought that was my job.” Lelia couldn't contain her sarcasm. She gasped in
disbelief when the reality of his words sank in.
“You mean all those attacks—”
“Were started by my people,” al-Fariq completed the sentence. “I finally realized that nothing could happen while you were still here.”
Lelia frowned as she tried to wrap her mind around his logic. “But, sir, if the attacks all came from you, what made you think you had enemies?”
Al-Fariq waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “A man in my position always has enemies.”
“You mean to tell me you started this coup. You got my soldiers killed, and you had no evidence whatever that you were in danger? If you had concerns about your safety, why didn't you bring them to me? Keeping you safe is my responsibility.”
“I didn't come to you, because I knew you wouldn't do what was necessary.” Al-Fariq waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “You, with all your talk about honor and responsibility…”
“But, sir, I learned that from you. You have always said you were a man of honor and that duty to one's country was more important than anything.”
“Of course, I
talk
about honor and allegiance all the time. You actually try to live up to that nonsense.”
Lelia was left speechless by his accusatory tone and couldn't respond as he continued. “You're not supposed to let your principles come between you and doing that which is necessary.”
“Necessary or expedient?” Lelia was finally able to ask. “When have I ever failed to do what was necessary? You haven't had so much as a hangnail on my watch.” Even as the words left her mouth, Lelia realized that his actions had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with flexing his muscles. Laritrea had only briefly emerged from colonialism before it was plunged into a lengthy civil war. It was already a wealthy country due to its oil reserves, and she realized that the rumors about the minerals must be true as well. In this part of the world, being known as a strong man was crucial, especially when you ruled a wealthy country. There were always others who would take it from you if you showed the least bit of weakness. He'd wanted to demonstrate his power, and it had cost her the lives of five of her soldiers.
“Tell me, Colonel.” Lelia struggled to keep her voice even. “Why didn't you insist that I take all my soldiers with me?”
“I was going to, but once I realized you were only leaving green recruits, I changed my mind. They were not a danger to my operation. Besides, their deaths would substantiate my story. Everyone knows how much I like my Guard. No one would believe I would deliberately risk their lives.” He shrugged again. “You're a professional, Sergeant. Surely you understand collateral damage.”
It took every bit of military training she possessed to resist the urge to strangle him with her bare hands. Collateral damage? One of her soldiers had been only fifteen years old. She forced her hands to relax from the clenched position they had assumed in anticipation of crushing the life right out of his throat. She turned to leave the room while she could still maintain her self-control. Colonel al-Fariq immediately rose to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
Lelia rubbed her forehead. Despite several hours' sleep, she was still exhausted, and the effort it took to restrain herself had drained her scant reserves of energy. More than anything she wanted to go back to her room and call the one person who would understand: Patrick. Still keeping her back to al-Fariq, she responded.
“Back to the barracks, sir.” She sighed. “My resignation will be on your desk in the morning.”
“Come now, Assad. You know I cannot allow you to leave. If word of any of this gets out, I'll have an uprising on my hands.”
Lelia almost commented on the irony of his statement but decided it wasn't worth the bother. Instead, she turned to face him. “You know I'll never reveal what was discussed here. Despite my own feelings, this country still needs you. I will not see it plunged back into civil war.” While this was the proper thing to say, Lelia also knew it was the literal truth. Of course, his proclivity for eliminating any political rival left the country without any alternatives. There was no one else to take his place. The country would devolve again into factions over petty squabbles. Resources that should be directed toward health care and education would be squandered on weapons and death. Another generation would be lost like her parents'. She doubted the country could survive another such cataclysm; it had nearly perished in the last one. And back then it hadn't possessed the material wealth she suspected it had now. Laritrea, which was gradually becoming a powerful nation, would be just another failed postcolonial African republic. Another victim of the resource curse.
She held her arms out as his soldiers entered the room. Pride kept her from flinching when the cold metal of the handcuffs bit into her wrists. She never lowered her eyes, refusing to break eye contact with him as the soldiers led her away.
“What the fuck do you mean she's disappeared?” Patrick sat up on the edge of his bunk. Since Lelia's return to Laritrea, they'd managed to speak only a few times. Text messaging had been more consistent, but now, after not hearing from her for nearly a week, he'd finally succumbed to gut-wrenching fear and called Astaria.
“We're all fairly certain that the Colonel had her arrested, but he hasn't announced it,” Astaria said. “No one's seen her since she went to brief him about the coup attempt.”
“I don't get it. I thought y'all put the coup down. Why would he have her arrested?” Patrick asked.
For a moment all he heard was Astaria's long exhalation through the phone. “I don't know how secure this line is.”