"Look, you bastard," the President was saying into the phone. "I've
done everything you asked. I've deposited the money and pulled back all
American forces for six hours. Now you're going to live up to your end
of the agreement. You're going to disarm those weapons and get the hell
out of there. No hostages. I personally guarantee you safe passage." If
he'll believe that, Hansen was thinking, he's still writing letters to
Santa.
"Who do you think you're talking to?" Ramirez asked. "There's a force
on the island right now, that's got my people under fire. I no longer
can take responsibility for anything that happens."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hansen replied, genuinely
puzzled. Had the Deltas countermanded his orders? Carried out a rogue
operation? If so, there was going to be hell to pay. "If there's
somebody there, they're not part of the American armed forces. That's
your problem, not mine."
"It is your problem. I want you to put a stop to it."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that, exactly?" What can he be
talking about? Hansen was still wondering. "If you can't handle your
situation, then maybe you'd better go back to terrorist school. I've
kept up my end."
Ramirez proceeded to tell the President two things. First, when the
Sikorsky took off from the landing pad, Isaac Mannheim was going to be
on board, a hostage. He was their insurance. That much was true. The
second was a lie.
"The other thing you should know is that we have armed a nuclear device
and secured it on the island. The detonation sequence is radio-
controlled. If there is any interference with our egress, no matter at
what point, we will not hesitate to detonate it."
"You do that," Hansen said, "and you'll be tracked to the ends of the
earth. That's something I can guarantee you for absolute certain." He
had visions of his presidency going down in ruins. And if the story of
the money ever came out, the headlines . . .
"Then you also have the power to guarantee that it doesn't happen.
Think about it." With which cryptic farewell, the connection was
severed, for the last time. The fact that a fifteen-kiloton nuclear
bomb was about to obliterate Souda Bay, Crete, and the Sixth Fleet in a
matter of minutes was not mentioned.