Lethal Trajectories (14 page)

“You might have three months left, but it could well be less than that. I wish we could guarantee you a few weeks of better health so you could make all the preparations you’ll need to make, but we can’t. If we can have you for a couple more days, we can probably stabilize the pain and buy you a little time, but not much, I’m afraid.”

“Thanks, Doc. I know this has been tough on you, but I needed to know the score.”

With that, the president dismissed them. He wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.

He had always wondered what it would be like to be told you were going to die. Do you cry? Scream? Go into denial? What do you do? As a former CEO, governor, and president, the threat of a major crisis was not new to him.
Work the problem, work the problem,
he thought as he rocked back and forth on his chair in a desperate attempt to regain his emotional composure. Almost mechanically, he made a conscious effort to apply the coping mechanisms that had carried him through so many difficult times in the past.

After attempting to decouple his emotions from the crisis with only limited success, he turned to his Commander-in-Chief and prayed reciting the Serenity Prayer he had learned somewhere so many years ago:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can, and the

Wisdom to know the difference.

Meditating on those wise words, he concluded that he couldn’t change his diagnosis and could only pray for the ability to accept the inevitable. He could, however, set the tone and tempo of the presidential succession that must soon take place.
I’m going to do everything that is humanly possible to make this a smooth transition for Clayton,
he vowed. His first postdiagnosis decision, therefore, was to remain in the hospital for another couple of days, as the doctor had suggested—time to recover and to think it all out.

He also knew the longest journey in the world was the one from the brain to the heart, the path that transformed an intellectual thought into a deep-in-the-gut belief.
I’m going to die, and I might as well get used to the idea,
he thought.

After a restless and agonizing night of reflecting on his mortality and its rippling effects, he was more at peace with his fate. His brooding thoughts focused now on the presidential succession. Clayton McCarty was a good man, but the challenges of transitioning during the Chunxiao crisis would be formidable.

P
rince Mustafa labored through an evening reception with delegates from the Gulf Cooperative Council. He struggled to maintain a friendly face as he contemplated the crucial meeting he would soon have with his conspiratorial brothers.

He excused himself early, under the pretense of not feeling well, and hastily left on a zig-zag route to his clandestine meeting. He had heard earlier today that security forces were picking up suspicious signals, and he was fearful of being followed. He was last to arrive and, following a short prayer, he started the meeting.

“My brothers,” he said, with tension in his voice all could sense, “the time for jihad is near. Our preparations are well under way. Unfortunately, this has necessitated stepped-up communications, military movements, and money transfers and this, of course, creates a serious risk of discovery. I have it on good authority that our government—and possibly even one or more foreign governments—is getting suspicious of increased electronic traffic and other activities they can’t fully explain. We cannot maintain this high state of readiness for long; it is simply too risky. We will have to move soon or go underground for a long time to come. I want to do a complete run-through of our plan tonight to make sure we are fully prepared to strike soon. If not, we will shut it down. Am I clear?”

“You are clear, Prince Mustafa,” said Prince Bawarzi. “Like you, I am concerned by the heightened risk of exposure from activities that have to be taken. I have been in constant communication with supportive brigade commanders, and they are conducting field maneuvers—even as we speak—that will better position them for our plan once launched.”

“Thank you, my brother,” Mustafa said, not wishing to set Bawarzi off on one of his tangents. “I will be calling on all of you shortly for a readiness report, but first I wish to say a few things.

“Permit me, if I may, to speak about our imminent revolution and jihad and why I believe it is precisely the right time in history for launching it.” He reached down for his bottle of water, never far from his side, and took a deep sip.

“It is our solemn duty to protect the teachings of Allah. The infidels from the West, Israel, Iran and, sadly, within our own government and society, have worked against this effort. It is not getting better; it is getting worse. At the same time, our window of opportunity for carrying out the plan is limited. While Saudi Arabia is still
the
major force within OPEC and controls almost twenty percent of the world’s oil supply, the world will eventually migrate to alternative energy systems. Our oil will not be as coveted in the future as it is today. But at this moment we have extraordinary leverage because of our oil production and reserves, and we must use it while we still have it.” He waved off a comment that al-Hazari was about to make, not wishing to be interrupted.

“I want you to think about this: while our population of thirty-one million people is small by global standards, we are large in many other important ways. Our kingdom is equal in land size to all of Western Europe, and we stand at the strategic crossroads of three continents—Europe, Africa, and Asia. Our proven oil reserves dwarf those of all other nations, and we have the unique ability to ramp up production even more. Our economy is powerful, and we have the most modern armed forces in the Middle East. We also have in our possession five nuclear bombs with delivery systems capable of hitting any target within 2,500 miles, as well as a supply of radioactive material sufficient to make good on our dirty bomb attack threats.”

He refrained from mentioning that he himself had used his vast fortune to purchase nuclear weapons from North Korea and Pakistan on the black market, but they all knew the source of financing. They were warming to Prince Mustafa’s briefing.

“Our most immediate enemies are, of course, the infidels from the West and their puppet, Israel. But, we are also challenged by Shiite apostates from Iran as they try to hijack the international Muslim community and use their nuclear weaponry to threaten other Arab nations. Iran is also trying to dominate OPEC, even though we produce almost five times the oil they do. Through our revolution and the jihad that follows, we will settle old scores and reestablish the supremacy of Allah in the hearts of all. It starts here in our homeland, but this will be nothing less than an international holy war—the mother of all jihads. There is no middle ground once we start. We either triumph or perish, and we will do anything and everything to accomplish our ends. May Allah be with us!”

Mustafa’s fervor stirred the passions of his brothers, and he wanted to maintain their excitement and energy as he reviewed the plan. He gazed a long moment at each person in the room before continuing.

“Once I give the word, you must be prepared to act within forty-eight hours. We must overthrow the regime within twenty-four hours of our first move. If not, the government will have had time to call on their American and Chinese allies for help.” He paused to let this point sink in—everything depended on it.

“Our great revolution will start with special covert operations conducted by Commando Unit 22,” Mustafa said with obvious pride in his elite force of five hundred special-ops-trained mercenaries. “About half of this force will be deployed to plant dirty bombs in Saudi oilfields. Once that task is completed, we will notify the world that any attempt at a counteroffensive will result in the detonation of the dirty bombs, an action that will make the oil fields a radioactive wasteland for the next fifty years and spell doom for all oil-starved industrial economies. We will shortly thereafter explode an atomic bomb in the southern desert to prove that we possess nuclear weapons and to show our serious intent.” He waved off another comment and continued, thinking,
Why must they always interrupt me?

“Concurrent to the dirty bomb emplacements, a number of Commando Unit 22 assassination squads will be deployed to take out designated leaders of the royal family and military unit leaders at a brigade or higher staff level. Unit 22 commandos will be equipped with Israeli and American weapons and carry identification linking them with Zionists and the American CIA. Their casualty rates will be heavy, and a search of their dead bodies will suggest that this is a threat against our homeland led by Zionists and the CIA.”

Mustafa noticed an appreciative smile on General Ali Jabar’s face, as he continued. “Under the pretext of protecting,
not
overthrowing, the royal Saudi government, we will order the regular army and air force units under our command to take out the military and political leaders deemed to be supporting the infidels. The situation will be chaotic, and rank-and-file soldiers are unlikely to question our orders—they’ll obey orders from their superior officers without hesitation.”

Ali Jabar will enjoy settling scores with a legion of air force officers and will probably enjoy doing some of the killing himself,
Mustafa mused.

“The beauty of our plan,” Mustafa beamed, “is that while we are the over throwers of the royal Saudi regime, we will position ourselves as the protectors of it from Zionist and CIA infidels. We will brand everyone we kill as infidel supporters, and we’ll blame the assassinations of the royal family on the infidels. Once our opposition is eliminated, I’ll go on the air and express my regrets that the royal family had been assassinated. I’ll reluctantly agree to assume the leadership of the Saudi government under the terms and provisions of the 1992 Law of Succession and, as a direct descendent and legitimate heir of Abdul Aziz ibn Saud, I will take the throne of power.”

Mustafa could sense that his summary was whetting the appetites of his compatriots and continued: “Upon overthrowing the Saudi government and booby trapping our oil fields with dirty bombs to deter foreign aggressors, we will start the purification process to rid our new regime of enemies and infidels. We may eventually be branded as the attackers and not protectors, but by the time the opposition finds its voice we will hold all the levers of power.”

“But remember, my brothers: we must
not
categorize the Saudi government overthrow as jihad. Always remember, we are protectors of the regime from outsiders, not perpetrators of the overthrow. Once the coup is consummated and consolidated, we’ll commence our international jihad. We will begin by issuing our ultimatums, first to the infidels, leading to the fall of Israel; second to other OPEC nations, announcing our expectations and the consequences if they fail to comply; and third to any countries hoping to purchase OPEC oil without our knowledge. In the process, we will make every effort to marginalize Iran and neutralize Iraq.”

The very thought of disempowering the hated Iranian government pleased Mustafa to no end, and he noticed the satisfaction on the faces of his coconspirators. Iran was an unacceptable threat and a roadblock to the true teachings of Allah.

“I will then call on our Gulf Cooperation Council partners—particularly Kuwait, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates—for support, along with our Monotheistic brothers in Pakistan and Iraq.” As lead partner in the GCC, Mustafa knew his stock was high among key leaders in the cartel. If personal diplomacy failed, his secret plan B would certainly change their minds.

“We will cut off all oil shipments for a limited period of time to let the magnitude of our actions sink in for all oil-importing nations—particularly the United States and China. After a short period of time we will partially lift our moratorium on oil sales but charge penalty fees that will increase weekly for nations failing to comply with our directives.”

Bawarzi interrupted, asking, “Could you refresh me, Prince Mustafa, on the final penalty fee number upon which we have decided?”

“Of course,” he answered politely, amazed that Bawarzi couldn’t remember this all-important detail. “For every week a government fails to meet our demands, we will add a ten percent surcharge. So, if oil is trading at $300 per barrel and they are not in compliance after the first week, oil prices will increase to $330. Add another ten percent to the total for every week they fail to comply, and it will be only a matter of time before we bring the infidels to their knees.” Irritated with Bawarzi’s interruption, he continued.

“This move will enlarge our coffers while bringing the world to the brink of total financial collapse. We will quickly see how willing the American infidels are to back their friends in Israel, and we’ll not make things easy for China either should they choose to purchase backdoor oil from Iran or other OPEC nations.”

He conveniently skimmed over the challenge of getting other OPEC nations to play ball, but had confidence in his unspoken plans.

“In one grand move, we will bring the two superpowers to their knees. At that moment the conditions will be right for the declaration of our global jihad. We will once and for all establish the supreme rule of Allah and rid the world of infidels.”

Mustafa had poured his heart and soul into the presentation and sat back in his chair, tired from the effort. He took a long swig from his water bottle. His brothers applauded, confident that a more holy world was within their grasp. More importantly, he knew they understood the need to act with ruthless efficiency if they were to succeed.

“Thank you, Prince Mustafa, for your masterful presentation,” said Mohammed al-Hazari. “You have stated with simple elegance the plan we have all worked on for so long. Somehow it has never sounded so imminent as when you have spoken of it tonight. We all know what we have to do, and you may rest assured that every person in every school and mosque in our country will be told what has happened and why within twenty-four hours of our victory. We will reach them long before they have a chance to see it on the Internet or read about it in the paper, and when they finally do, it will be through the media sources we control. We will be ready.”