Inside the fortified basement of the presidential palace, Benjamin's loyalist guards were experiencing a strange, confusing morning.
After standing at high alert for the entire night, waiting for an explosive battle that never came, their adrenaline had completely crashed.
They were exhausted, hungry, and entirely bewildered...
Instead of an immediate dawn assault, the only thing that had happened was the arrival of a single, unarmed military messenger on a bicycle.
The messenger had ridden up to the heavily barricaded front gates, completely ignoring the fuel-soaked portico, and delivered a formal envelope addressed directly to the President.
Now, the guardsmen were clustered in the subterranean hallway outside the vault.
"Why didn't Mbeki attack?" one of the younger guards asked. "He has the armored vehicles. He has us surrounded. He could have breached the doors at dawn. Why did he just send a letter?"
Captain Elias, standing near the door of the vault, frowned deeply.
He didn't have an answer. His military training dictated that you attack when the enemy is weakest.
Mbeki had the advantage of surprise, overwhelming numbers, and heavy armor.
Stalling the assault made absolutely zero tactical sense...
Unless, Elias realized with a sudden jolt, it wasn't Mbeki calling the shots anymore.
The door of the vault clanked open.
Benjamin stepped out, looking immaculate.
Despite spending the night in a humid basement surrounded by heavily armed men, his dark suit wasn't wrinkled, and his tie remained perfectly straight.
"Gather the men, Captain," Benjamin ordered, "It is time we concluded our negotiations."
Elias quickly fell into step behind him. "Sir, what does the letter say? Is Mbeki demanding a surrender?"
"Mbeki isn't demanding anything," Benjamin replied, "The letter is from Ambassador Sterling. He is inviting me to the front gates for a 'civilized discussion regarding the immediate cessation of hostilities and the restructuring of our mutual financial obligations.'"
Elias stopped dead in his tracks. "The Ambassador? But he is a diplomat. He doesn't control the military siege."
"Oh, Captain..." Benjamin sighed, turning to face the bewildered officer.
"Have you still not grasped the dynamic? Mbeki is just the attack dog. Sterling holds the leash. And right now, the dog is behaving very, very strangely because the master just realized his wallet is missing."
Benjamin continued walking toward the basement stairs, heading up to the ground floor. "Sterling knows we stole the fuel. He knows we accessed the docks. And, more importantly, he just realized that the old customs office was broken into."
...
Ten minutes later, Benjamin stood just inside the main doors of the grand foyer. T
Through the narrow slit in the curtains, Benjamin could see the scene unfolding on the avenue.
The three British Ferret scout cars were still parked aggressively in front of the gates, but their turret guns were no longer pointed at the palace.
Instead, the vehicles had been arranged into a defensive semi-circle, creating a shielded barrier.
Standing in the center of that barrier, protected by a squad of British private security contractors, was Ambassador Sterling.
He was dressed in a pristine white linen suit, entirely inappropriate for a combat zone, and he was holding a cane.
General Mbeki was standing a few feet away, looking furious and completely marginalized.
"He wants to talk," Benjamin said softly, stepping away from the window. He turned to Elias.
"Captain, I am going out there."
"Sir, absolutely not!" Elias protested immediately, stepping between Benjamin and the doors.
"It is a trap. The moment you step outside, Mbeki's snipers will take your head off. They have the entire avenue zeroed in."
"Mbeki cannot shoot me without Sterling's permission, and Sterling cannot permit my assassination until he knows exactly where those ledgers are," Benjamin stated with certainty.
He reached into his coat and checked the heavy Tokarev pistol hidden inside, more out of habit than necessity.
"I am the only person in this country who knows the exact location of the evidence that can send the Ambassador to an international prison. I am currently the safest man in Zambura..."
Benjamin gestured toward the doors. "Remove the crossbeams. Let me out."
The crossbeams were removed, and the doors swung open.
Ambassador Sterling watched him approach, a tight, smile plastered across his face. General Mbeki, however, looked like a caged animal, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm.
Benjamin stopped just short of the iron bars, standing completely exposed on the avenue.
He looked at the heavily armed private contractors, the armored scout cars, and the furious general. Then, he locked eyes with the Ambassador.
"Good morning, Ambassador Sterling," Benjamin called out, "I apologize for the mess on the portico. We had a minor plumbing issue with the backup generators."
Sterling's smile didn't reach his eyes. He stepped closer to the gates, leaning casually on his cane.
"A minor issue, indeed, Mr. President..." Sterling replied.
"Much like the minor issue of a missing British commercial fuel transport and the unauthorized entry into a sealed colonial customs facility last night. I must say, for a young man supposedly bedridden with grief, you have had an incredibly active evening."
Benjamin let out a soft chuckle. "I find that late-night reading helps clear my head, Ambassador. Especially historical non-fiction. The export records from 1963 are particularly fascinating. The chapter on the fifty million pounds of missing raw diamonds is quite the page-turner."
Sterling's smile vanished instantly. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his cane.
"Those documents are classified properties of the British government, Mr. President," Sterling said,
"Possessing them is a violation of international law. If you hand them over immediately, I might be convinced to persuade General Mbeki to call off his... unauthorized military exercise."
"That is a very generous offer, Ambassador..." Benjamin smiled.
"But I have a counter-proposal. You are going to publicly withdraw all British claims to the thirty-million-pound infrastructure debt. You are going to sign a document transferring total control of the western telecommunications grid back to the Zamburan state. And you are going to order your private security contractors to immediately arrest General Mbeki for high treason against the Republic."
"Arrest me?!" Mbeki roared, stepping forward, his hand drawing his sidearm.
"You arrogant little rat! I am the military! I hold the capital! Sterling does not give me orders!"
Mbeki leveled his pistol directly at Benjamin's chest. The loyalist guards on the palace roof immediately tightened their grips on the RPG-7s, but they held their fire, waiting for Elias's signal.
"Sterling," Benjamin said softly, "If he pulls that trigger, I die. And if I die, my loyalists have standing orders to immediately deliver those ledgers to the Soviet and French embassies. The international banking courts will freeze your assets before my body is even cold. Your career will end in a prison cell. Call off your dog..."
Sterling turned his head slightly. "Stand down, General."
"What? Ambassador, he is unarmed! I can end this right now!"
"I said stand down, Mbeki!" Sterling repeated, "Lower your weapon."
Mbeki looked at the Ambassador, then looked back at Benjamin.
"You treacherous British snake!" Mbeki screamed.