“U.S. Navy Chief Warrant Officer Thomas Crocker?” the uniformed man with the thick black mustache asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“Colonel Najar Bahrami of the Internal Security Service.”
“Then maybe you can answer some questions.”
“When did you arrive in Oman?”
“I need to talk to someone from the U.S. embassy first.”
“Your embassy already knows you’re here.”
“Then please let me use your phone.”
“When did you arrive here?”
“I lost track of time. Am I under arrest?”
“Do you realize that you landed in our country without permission?”
“I’m an official of the U.S. government. I came here on a mission for the king of Norway.”
“The king of Norway?”
“Yes.”
The men whispered back and forth. The doctor put a hand on Crocker’s forehead to check his temperature, just like his mother used to do.
When the American awoke the next morning, the guard at the door was gone. Sunlight streamed past the bars in the window and fell across the empty chair.
He felt stronger. More alert.
The same nurse arrived to bathe him and change his bandages, then supply him with a fresh hospital gown. Like an angel.
“I need immediate access to a telephone.”
“Your American friends are waiting,” she said as another nurse arrived with a bowl of yogurt and a cup of hot tea.
As soon as Crocker finished eating, a sandy-haired man with a long face entered. He didn’t look American.
“Mr. Crocker,” the man said, beaming as he crossed to the bed and offered his hand. “Claude Mathieu from the French embassy. Thank you for saving Brigitte.”
“Brigitte? Yes. How is she?”
The whole messy episode came back.
“You’re a hero in my country! The president himself sends his regards.”
“Is she okay?” Wondering how much damage the smoke had done to their lungs.
“She’s recovering very nicely, I think. She’d like to thank you in person when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m ready to get out of here now. Maybe you can help.”
The Frenchman smiled quickly, then excused himself to attend to some urgent business, promising to return soon.
Almost immediately a half-dozen serious-looking U.S. officials in suits entered. The faces of the five men and one woman were all unfamiliar.
One of them stepped forward and said that the Omani government was extremely annoyed about the incident at the Al Bustan Palace and the fact that they hadn’t been briefed about Crocker’s mission.
The SEAL team leader hadn’t expected this and didn’t know what to say. “There was no time. Everything happened so fast.”
A tall, red-haired U.S. embassy officer explained that the Omanis had spent years carefully cultivating an image of a tolerant, peaceful haven on the Arabian Peninsula, an ideal place to conduct business. The violence at one of their most prestigious international hotels had shattered that image. It could take years for them to repair it. In the meantime, hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue could be lost.
“Two things you need to understand,” Crocker said. “One, I didn’t initiate the violence. And two, it couldn’t have been avoided. Besides, I entered the hotel unarmed.”
“Maybe not. But the Omanis are still upset.”
“They’re not completely innocent, either.”
“What do you mean?” the lone female asked.
“I mean they allowed human traffickers and two kidnapped girls to enter their country. That girl, Brigitte, and the Norwegian, Malie, obviously weren’t carrying passports with valid visas.”
“How do you know that?”
Crocker took a deep breath and took them through the incident step by step, beginning with meeting the man in the lobby. Then he answered questions. At the end, one man of the half dozen said, “I admire your courage.”
The others looked skeptical and worried.
Crocker, who didn’t care about their judgments, was starting to feel tired. “Listen,” he said. “There was this girl, a Norwegian named Malie. Do you know if she was found?”
They didn’t.
“Where are the other members of my team?”
“I believe they’re still in Muscat,” the red-haired officer answered.
“If they’re here, I need to communicate with them immediately.”
“Certain things need to be straightened out first.”
“What things?”
They gave no answer.
“I need to get out of this hospital as soon as possible.”
“We’re working on that.”
An hour later Crocker was thumbing through a back issue of Time magazine, reading about the dangers of global warming, when Claude Mathieu returned carrying a vase of white roses.