Warren Murphy - Unite and Conquer

"You talk boldly for a man who conceals his name."

"Call me Blaize. Blaize Fury."

"I have never heard of you, Blaize Fury."

The voice became suddenly petulant. "You never heard of Blaize Fury, The Extinguisher? The scourge of terrorists the world over?"

"I am afraid I have not. You are obviously he."

"I," said the voice calling itself the Extinguisher, "snuffed your worst enemy."

"I possess many enemies. Who might this be?"

"Mahout Feroze Anin. He had a price on your head. Don't tell me he didn't. You put a price on his head during that UN action in Stomique. Anin got away, chased your peacekeepers out and that left your sorry butt hanging in the wind. He swore to wax you in revenge."

Anwar-Sadat gripped the receiver until his knuckles burned white against his dusky caramel skin. "He is dead?"

"Consider his cold corpse my credentials. Now can we meet?"

"How do I know you are not an emissary of Anin?"

"If I wanted to kill you, my business card would have blown up in your face," the voice of the Extinguisher said flatly.

Anwar-Sadat regarded the ominous ebony card. It was a preposterous claim, but the voice was so confident he found the card slipping from his unnerved fingers.

"Call me tomorrow. If Anin is reliably reported dead, we will meet. But only to thank you, you must understand."

"Signal received," said the voice of the Extinguisher. And he hung up.

Anwar Anwar-Sadat replaced the receiver and walked to the big picture window overlooking the East River.

If the thorn Anin was truly dead, a great burden had been lifted from his life. As for the Extinguisher, it would be useful to meet such a man, if only to take his measure. But as for his preposterous offer, of what use is one man in the pursuit of the new world order? Armies remade worlds, and Anwar Anwar-Sadat controlled the mightiest army on the face of the globe, the UN Protection Force.

If only his colleagues would give him sanction to wage true war in the pursuit of peace, UNPROFOR would be an army to reckon with.

THE NEXT MORNING found the secretary general in his Situation Room in a nondescript building across the street from the UN complex. The room was long and narrow, staffed only by banks of computer terminals. One wall was filled with a global map showing the nations of the world from a politically neutral polar perspective. Nations enjoying a UN peacekeeping presence were rimmed in blue.

He took the accustomed chair proffered by his aide before the computer terminal tied into the international Internet.

The functionary depressed the keys for him as he called out instructions.

"Bring up 'alt. culture.mexico.'"

"At once, my General," the functionary said, using the form of address the secretary general preferred when he was overseeing his far-flung army of peacekeepers.

The computer screen displayed the Mexico Internet discussion group. He scanned the subject headings. Most concerned the simmering insurgency in the southern state of Chiapas.

"This one, then this one, then this one," he said.

"Yes, my General."

The beauty of the Internet, as Anwar-Sadat saw it, lay in how it drew the dispossessed and diaspora of the earth together via fiber-optic lines. These discussion groups often foreshadowed political events and thinking available nowhere else.

"The insurgentistas are very busy," he muttered.

"They say that civil war is not far off, my General."

A new subject heading appeared at the end of the column. Anwar-Sadat's eyes fell on it, growing wide.

"What is this?"

"It says 'Earthquake.'"

"I know it says 'Earthquake.' Why does it say 'Earthquake'?"

"May I call it up for you?" the factotum asked.

"Yes, yes, at once, if you please," Anwar-Sadat said testily.

It was a bulletin, originating in Mexico City. In times past such reports would be handled by ham radio. But in the computer age there were more efficient conduits.

"An earthquake has struck the capital," the person wrote. "Power is out in scattered localities. From my window in the Hotel Nikko, I can see smoke rising from Mount Popo."

"What is this Popo?" Anwar-Sadat asked.

"It is a volcano, I believe."

Nodding, he read on.

"Damage appears extensive. This is greater than the 1985 quake."

Frowning with all of his stony Coptic face, Anwar Anwar-Sadat leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

"This will further destabilize Mexico," he murmured.

"Yes."

"We must convene an emergency meeting of the Security Council. UN relief must pour in lest civil war break out in the countryside."

"An excellent suggestion, my General."

"And perhaps the authorities in Mexico will at last see the wisdom of allowing UN peacekeepers into the Chiapas area to deal with the insurgent problem."

The functionary frowned. "That might be more difficult."

"Difficult, yes. Impossible, no. For I sense a momentous opportunity here."

"The Mexicans will never allow UN peacekeepers on their native soil. And the US. will never allow UN peacekeepers who are not Americans onto Mexican soil."

"We will see about that," said Anwar Anwar-Sadat, signaling that the computer be turned off with an impatient snap of his fingers.

The news was more dire that he had thought.

It was already being called the Great Mexico City Earthquake and it was not confined to the Valley of Mexico. It had shaken the countryside. Tremors had radiated up to El Paso and troubled the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Aftershocks were frequent, and Mount Popocateped was vomiting a brownish ash as if on the verge of full eruption.

Lost in all this bad news was an official report that the body of former Stomiqui strongman Mahout Feroze Anin had been found in his Nairobi hotel room the previous day, apparently assassinated by persons unknown.

"Yes, yes, I already know about this," said Sadat, brushing the item away as he fielded call after call from his fellow UN ambassadors.

"We must take action at once," he told anyone who would listen. "Mexico must not be allowed to descend into chaos. We must have action. The United Nations is the only hope for this suffering people."

"It is working, Mr. Secretary," the functionary said once the clamor of telephones died down.

"Once we have peacekeepers in the Western Hemisphere, it would be only a matter of time before we have them in this nation."

"And Canada. We must not forget Canada."

"Canada will be more difficult than Mexico."

"What is good enough for Mexico is good enough for Canada."

"I must write that down. Write it down for me. I will use it in a speech at the appropriate time."

"Yes, Mr. Secretary."

By the end of the day, a draft resolution had been laid on the secretary general's desk.

"It reads very well. How can they veto it? It is purely humanitarian. Once my blue helmets bring food in, who would be in a hurry to usher them out again?"

"Only base ingrates, my General."

"Or Serbs," Anwar Anwar-Sadat said, shuddering.

THAT NIGHT Anwar Anwar-Sadat returned to his luxury apartments well after midnight, bleary of eye but buoyant of heart. It was a fortunate turn of events, this Mexican earthquake. It was as if a door of opportunity had opened in the earth's crust.

Switching on the light, he saw a man seated in the overstuffed chair beside his sphinx-filled bookcase.

"Who are you?" he demanded of the seated figure.

The man stood up. He was a tower of black, from the knit balaclava that muffled his head down to his shiny combat boots. His black nightsuit was festooned with popcorn pockets and black leather holsters bristling with implements of violence.

"Enter the Extinguisher."

"Oh, yes, yes. Of course. Very good to meet you. But I have not time for you now. I have had a very trying day."