Ambassador Sterling's pristine white linen suit was already beginning to stick to him.
"You are playing a very dangerous game, Mr. President," Sterling finally said.
He waved a hand toward General Mbeki, who was currently restrained by two of Sterling's massive private security contractors, cursing violently.
"You assume that I need Mbeki. You assume that your little ledger makes you invincible."
"I assume nothing, Ambassador..." Benjamin replied calmly, "The fact is, without Mbeki, you do not have the military muscle to maintain order. And without the infrastructure debt, you do not have the legal right to extract our resources. You are currently standing in my country with an empty wallet and a broken gun."
Sterling's smile returned, "You misunderstand the nature of the British Empire, Benjamin. If Mbeki fails, I have a dozen other ambitious colonels who would happily burn this palace down for a fraction of what I was paying him.
As for your ledgers... international courts are slow. I can tie those documents up in litigation for a decade. By the time a judge ever sees them, Zambura will be a footnote in history."
Benjamin knew Sterling was lying. The international community, especially the Soviet Union and France, would absolutely leap at the chance to humiliate the British and seize control of the region's undiscovered oil.
The ledgers were a nuclear option, and Sterling knew it...
"If the courts are so slow, Ambassador, why are you standing outside my gates negotiating?"
"Why not just order your men to breach the doors and take the paperwork by force?"
Sterling's eyes flicked toward the palace roof, catching the faint glint of a Soviet RPG-7 barrel poking over the parapet.
He then looked down at the dark liquid pooling around his expensive Italian leather shoes.
"Because I am a civilized man, Mr. President," Sterling lied smoothly. "I prefer diplomacy over destruction."
"You prefer not being blown to pieces on my front lawn..." Benjamin corrected him.
"Let us drop the charade, Sterling. We both know the terms. You withdraw the debt, and you leave."
Sterling sighed. "You are incredibly stubborn, Benjamin. Very well. If you insist on playing hardball, I suppose I must offer a compromise."
The Ambassador gestured to one of his security contractors, who stepped forward and handed Sterling a briefcase.
"Inside this case, Mr. President, is a bearer bond worth exactly five million pounds sterling," the Ambassador announced, turning the open case so Benjamin could see the neatly stacked, watermarked paper.
"It is yours..."
Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "A bribe, Ambassador?"
"You hand over the ledgers. You sign a document stepping down as President due to 'health concerns.' In exchange, my men escort you to a private airfield. You fly to Geneva, Paris, or wherever you desire. You live the rest of your life as a very, very wealthy young man. You leave this doomed, miserable country behind. Everyone wins!" Sterling corrected.
Benjamin stared at the briefcase for a long moment. .
Sterling's smile widened into a grin. The boy was breaking. They all broke eventually!
"Five million pounds." Benjamin murmured. "It is a very generous offer, Ambassador. Truly."
"It is the only logical choice, Benjamin..." Sterling purred, leaning closer. "Take the money. Live."
Benjamin looked up, his eyes locking onto Sterling's.
"You see, Ambassador," Benjamin said, "This is exactly why you are losing."
Sterling's smile vanished. "Excuse me?"
"You think five million pounds is a lot of money," Benjamin stated, stepping back from the gates and crossing his arms.
"But I know what is buried beneath the western deserts. I know about the oil."
"You..." Sterling stammered, "How?"
"How do I know?" Benjamin laughed, "Because I am the President of this Republic, Sterling! You offer me five million pounds to walk away from a resource that will be worth fifty billion pounds in the next decade? It is a pathetic offer!"
Benjamin reached into his trench coat.
Sterling's security contractors immediately raised their weapons, expecting the young president to pull a gun.
Instead, Benjamin pulled out a silver Zippo lighter.
He flipped the lid open. He struck the flint.
A small, bright orange flame flickered to life, illuminating Benjamin's calm face.
"Now!"
"Let us renegotiate!"
Ambassador Sterling stared at the flame, then at the massive puddle of diesel surrounding his armored vehicles, his security team, and himself.
"Don't do it..." Sterling whispered, "If you ignite that fuel, my government will level this city. The Royal Air Force will turn your palace into a crater!"
"Let them try!" Benjamin smiled, "But you will not be here to see it, Ambassador. Now, I will ask you one last time. Withdraw the debt. And leave my country."
Sterling looked at the flame. He looked at the heavy Soviet weaponry pointed at him from the roof. He looked at the millions of pounds worth of undiscovered oil slipping through his fingers.
"Fine..." Sterling choked out, "We will sign the transfer documents within the hour..."
Benjamin snapped the Zippo lighter shut. .
"Excellent." Benjamin said smoothly. He turned around, completely turning his back on the armed men, and began walking slowly up the steps toward the palace doors.