Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [65]
“My fellow Americans,” he opened with grace and humility, “I come here tonight to share with you some personally distressing news and to tell you that I will be resigning my presidency effective at 12:01 p.m. on Saturday, October fourteenth of this year—or sooner, should conditions require it. Please allow me to explain.”
For the next eight minutes, he walked them through the medical events that led to his decision to resign his presidency. He praised the abilities of Vice President McCarty and his entire cabinet, and he called on the American people to stick together in these difficult times and to pray for him as he was praying for them.
He closed with an expression of gratitude for the privilege of serving as their president and promised that he would help their new president, Clayton McCarty, for as long as he could. After he announced the next morning’s press conference, he closed his address as he had so many others, saying “God bless all of you, and may God richly bless the United States of America.”
The handful of people in the Oval Office, including the camera crew, stared at him in shock. Not an eye remained dry in the crowd as the president shook each one of their hands and thanked them for coming. With that, he left the Oval Office and walked down the hall.
He was greeted with another standing ovation as he entered the Cabinet Room. Feeling fatigue, the president kept the meeting short. At nine o’clock, he said, “I think it’s time to call it a night, folks. I can’t tell you how much your support has meant to me on this memorable day and for as long as we have worked together. You are wonderful people, and I plan to personally call each and every one of you in the next couple of days to tell you that.”
Lyman Burkmeister left the Cabinet Room, exhausted but relieved that the burden of uncertainty had been lifted from his shoulders. He no longer had to pretend all was well. The deed was done, and he now hoped against hope that the worst was over.
Unfortunately, the worst was about to start.
23
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
26 September 2017
Prince Hahad ibn Saud could barely conceal his agitation as his driver wove through the unusually heavy Tuesday-morning traffic in Riyadh. As second-in-command of the elite Saudi Royal Guard Regiment, he usually cut through traffic with armed escorts and blaring sirens. Today’s unassuming unmarked car brought him to a hastily called rendezvous with his coconspirators. This better be good, he thought. It hadn’t been easy to manage an abrupt disengagement from the planned parade review of one of the regiment’s three light infantry battalions.
Although five minutes early for the scheduled 0900 meeting, he was surprised to find that he was the last to arrive. He greeted his fellow warriors with a nod and took his usual seat.
“My brothers,” opened Prince Mustafa in a voice choked with emotion, “The time for jihad is now here.”
His words coursed through the raw emotions of his brothers like a lightning bolt, instantly relieving years of pent-up fears and anxieties. The room exploded with applause and back-slapping, stirring the emotions even of the stoic Prince Mustafa.
“I believe, my brothers, that the time has come to launch our holy jihad and wipe the infidels off the face of the earth. We’ve watched the extraordinary chain of events unfold that has shifted the world’s attention to the Pacific; now the satanic powers of the West are about to lose their infidel leader. They will be floundering, leaderless, like a confused camel in a sandstorm. They will be ill-prepared to respond effectively to a cry for help from