Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [177]
King Mustafa sized up the situation and instantly realized the infidels were launching a major attack on Saudi Arabia. Incredible, he wondered, How would they dare? Have they forgotten my threats to detonate the dirty bombs and nuke the Israelis if they so much as set foot on Saudi Arabian territory?
Just then, a massive explosion rocked the palace, sending both Mustafa and the terrified colonel to the ground. Groggy, the men dashed to the bomb shelter deep beneath the palace. They slammed the large steel door and dove for the six-foot-thick concrete shell inside the shelter just as the first bunker-busting smart bomb hit the palace. Mustafa flew into a rage at the perfidy of the infidels. You swine will pay dearly for this, he thought as two more smart bombs hit the palace with deadly precision. His anger turned to fear as he felt the vibrations intensify with each direct hit. If he ever got out of this, he knew there would be nothing left of the palace or the royal guards surrounding it.
The all-clear sounded about twenty minutes later, but Mustafa knew he was no longer safe anywhere near the palace. It was only a matter of time before the bunker-buster bombs reduced his shelter to rubble. He left the shivering colonel in the bunker and went in search of his officers. He was physically sickened by the sight of the carnage engulfing the entire palace complex. Parts of the city were in flames, though civilian areas seemed to have been spared. He could see smoke rising from the government and military blocks—no doubt the work of American smart bombs. He was told, as he was whisked away in an armored troop carrier by an army captain, that Prince Hahad ibn Saud and his top staff officers had been killed instantly when a smart bomb obliterated his headquarters.
Once securely ensconced in the troop carrier, Mustafa was overcome by the magnitude of what had just happened. Enraged, he was determined to make his enemies pay. Once he was in a secure location, he would order the dirty bombs detonated and soon thereafter order that nuclear-tipped cruise missiles be launched on Jerusalem, Tehran, and Bahrain—the location of the American Fifth Fleet. I’ll take the infidels down with me, he solemnly vowed.
The Situation Room
7 April 2018
At one o’clock in the morning, the entire NSC team was still at its post. Reports were coming in on the rapid progress of the three massive armored assaults in progress. General Paul Bemis, the Marine Corp commandant, gave his report.
“Mr. President, the assaults have been in progress now for about two hours. We’re way ahead of schedule. Our lead elements report large-scale surrenders, and we are meeting with little opposition. The aerial assaults took a staggering toll on Saudi troops and their positions, and many seem to be in a state of shock. The only thing slowing our troops down is the need for ammo and petrol. A diversionary drop has also been made by paratroopers south of Jeddah.”
Again, there were cheers in the room, but they were more subdued. The president surmised it was because of fatigue and maybe a slight desensitization to the reports of victory coming in fast and furious.
“Folks,” he said, “I appreciate all of you staying here and sharing this vigil with me. We’ve had some terrific victories, but there’ll still be heavy fighting tomorrow when we approach Riyadh. I need you all on your A-game when that happens. I want any of you who can to go home and get a little shuteye. Let’s plan on meeting here at 0800. Thanks again for being here with me.”
As the security team rose to leave, each member stopped by to shake Clayton’s hand before departing, leaving only Clayton, Jack, General Bemis, and a few staff members. Emotionally spent, he surmised that sleep would not easily overcome the overdose