by Walt Gragg
“Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.”
“Hell, I already regret it. Three or four days, no more. And you’ve got to agree if the pressure becomes too great, you’ll get on the next transport and leave without hesitation.”
“Yes, sir, that’s fair enough. You tell me to go and I’m gone.”
63
10:04 A.M. (EASTERN STANDARD TIME), NOVEMBER 3
THE OVAL OFFICE, THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The usual group had gathered. It was obvious from their relaxed movements and upbeat tone that the dark clouds of the previous weeks had disappeared.
“The casualties were heavy, Mr. President, but Saudi Arabia and Kuwait are secure,” the secretary of defense said. “And it looks like they’re going to stay that way. The Iranian army’s been defeated and the Iraqis have run back inside their own border. Nearly half a million dead litter the sands of northern Saudi Arabia. At least we’re fairly certain there are that many. The fires from the burning armor are masking the battlefield. It’s impossible to know what it actually looks like on the ground. Even so, one thing’s for certain. The fighting’s stopped.”
“Fantastic, Mr. Secretary. I can’t think of anything better than knowing the Saudi and Kuwaiti oil fields are safe.”
“And according to our radio intercepts, they’re going to stay that way.”
“How so?”
“The Iranians had a huge relief column rushing our way in a desperate attempt to save their army. That force ran into the fleeing Iraqis. An Iraqi retreat when thirty-three of their elite divisions were being slaughtered didn’t sit well. To say they were upset is putting it mildly. Skirmishes had begun when the Iranian prisoners we’d released arrived on the scene. When they did, and their countrymen got word of the Iraqi treachery, the fighting began in earnest. At this moment, there’s an immense battle going on in southeastern Iraq between the two countries. It’s spreading along the border between them. It could blossom into a full-scale war before the week’s out. The last struggle between the two took ten years and ravaged both countries with neither side gaining a thing from their misguided efforts. This one shows the potential to be as devastating. So while they’re killing each other, they’ll be too preoccupied to bother either Saudi Arabia or Kuwait. Even so, we’ll need to keep a decent-size force at the Iraqi border for the foreseeable future. But we figure all our guys will need to do is sit back and watch the Iranians and Iraqis go at it.”
“That’s wonderful news. I can’t wait to tell the press at my three o’clock briefing. I’ll bet after I announce the oil fields are safe, gas prices drop five dollars within the first hour.”
“That’s not the only thing, Mr. President,” the chairman of the Joint Chiefs said. “While we’re still fighting in Egypt, things are going well there, also. In the north, the Marines and the British armored divisions have won significant battles in the past twenty-four hours. Our advance elements are within forty miles of Cairo and getting closer each day.”
“When do you estimate they’ll reach the Egyptian capital?” the president asked.
“Four or five days at the latest.”
“What’s the word within Cairo itself, General Greer?”
“Not much different than yesterday. The Pan-Arab assault’s in its fourth day and neither side’s given an inch. Hour after hour, the fighting has raged. A conservative estimate is the Mahdi’s losses in this battle alone are over one hundred thousand dead with three times as many wounded. There have been a few successful crossings by the fanatics followed by tank engagements. But we’ve beaten each one back. Every time the enemy gets a toehold we’ve been able to respond.”
“So can I tell the press Mourad’s attack has been a total failure?”
“I wouldn’t call it a failure yet, sir. But it hasn’t been a success. And unless something unanticipated happens, it won’t be. Don’t get me wrong, the Chosen One could still wear us down and win this thing. But at this point it’s not likely. He’s running out of time. If he doesn’t take Cairo in the next day or two, he never will. There’ve been rumors his army’s about to break. Desertions, surrenders, and retreats are becoming commonplace. The prisoners we’ve taken are quite dejected. They’re sick of all this, and the Mahdi’s fanciful promises are losing their rapturous appeal. And it’s only going to get worse from here.”
“In what way?”
“The 4th Infantry and 10th Mountain arrived in Egypt this morning. Both have off-loaded. The minute they did, they took off across the desert. As of an hour ago, the 10th Mountain had reached the Nile about seventy-five miles below Cairo. With night approaching, we thought it would be prudent to keep our forces where they are until morning. They’re consolidating their positions. Bridging equipment is moving forward. By morning we’ll have half a dozen spans over the river and both divisions will cross in force.”
“Once they’re across, Mr. President,” the secretary of defense said, “we’ll put into action the plan we talked about a few days ago. The two divisions will cut off the Sudanese. After that the 10th will turn south, destroy everything in their path, and secure Egypt’s border. The 4th will head up the western bank of the Nile to attack Mourad’s forces in Giza. With the British and our Marines hammering him from the north, and the 4th Infantry’s M-1s and Bradleys coming at him from the south, he won’t know which way to turn. Unless massive Pan-Arab reinforcements reach the battlefield, which isn’t going to happen, I wouldn’t be surprised if his army collapses in the next few days.”
“What’s the latest word on his reserves?” the president asked.
“Sudanese have arrived in fairly significant numbers,” General Greer said. “But we’ll put an end to that tomorrow. We won’t have to worry about further reinforcements from the south. The Marines on the Libyan border continue to be hit by waves of conscripts. We’ve suffered significant losses. But our Hornets have been great in providing support. Our guys are holding on and only a handful of the enemy’s gotten through. We estimate less than five percent have been successful in breaching our lines. And that’s certainly a number we can live with.”
“Excellent, General.” The president was all smiles, but there was one item with which to deal before concluding the meeting. He turned to the director of the CIA. “Well,” he said, “what’s the word on Mourad?”
“It’s confirmed, Mr. President. As unbelievable as it sounded when the initial reports came in, the information’s true. Mourad’s headquarters are in the Great Pyramid.”
“Are you certain, Chet?”
“Yes, sir. We were skeptical at the time, but further prisoner interrogations supported the intelligence we received from our Special Forces. Once we had that information, we started pinpointing radio transmissions to see what we could find. Apparently, a few days earlier we’d eliminated Mourad’s main communication center on the Giza Plateau. But the Pan-Arabs quickly replaced everything we’d destroyed. That alone was sufficient evidence to investigate further. There was enough high-level radio traffic going into and out of the pyramid complex to heighten our suspicions. So we slipped a covert team into western Giza. They spent last night watching what was going on at the plateau. They didn’t see the Chosen One, but signs of his presence were everywhere. Mourad’s personal armored division surrounds the hilltop. And when our team spotted his mujahideen patrolling outside, they knew we’d found the right place.”
“Too bad they didn’t spot him. They could have taken care of things then and there.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what we had in mind. But no such luck. And it wasn’t like they could stay around hoping for a shot at the old bastard. Still, they did provide valuable information.”
“No chance Mourad’s set up an elaborate ruse and he’s really somewhere else?”
“We don’t think so. His mujahideen are never far from him. And they were crawling all over the place.�
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“Are you sending your team back in to get him?”
“No, sir,” the director of the CIA said. “Once was enough. They came close to being discovered more than once last night. We don’t think we can press our luck any further.”
“If his army is near collapse, we need to be working on getting our hands on him. I don’t want to chance him escaping in the confusion that will follow when the war ends.”
“We’re working on it, Mr. President,” the secretary of defense said. “But as long as he’s got his best armored division securing the area, I don’t know how much luck we’ll have in killing him without one hell of a fight.”
The president looked at them. “Find a way, gentlemen. You’ve got two days to come up with a plan to eliminate him once and for all.”
64
4:25 P.M., NOVEMBER 4
PAN-ARAB HEADQUARTERS
INSIDE THE KING’S BURIAL CHAMBER, THE GREAT PYRAMID OF KHUFU
THE GIZA PLATEAU
Muhammad Mourad sat in the burial chamber along with his closest advisers. A pall was on nearly every face. There was little doubt in his followers’ minds that the war was lost. Only their leader seemed unaffected by the battle’s recent days.
“Chosen One,” General el-Saeed said, “one of the American divisions in the south is drawing near.”
“How far away are they?”
“No more than sixty kilometers. They’ve defeated the units you diverted from the attack upon Cairo and are marching toward Giza as we speak. There’s nothing standing in their way. They could be here in a few hours if something’s not done.”
“What about our Sudanese reinforcements? Can we use them to slow the infidels?”
“No, Chosen One, they’re cut off. The other American division has pushed them back toward Egypt’s southern border.”
Mourad looked at General el-Saeed. The threat was unmistakable. There was only one thing he could do. He’d send his best division to face the 4th Infantry.
“Order my personal armored division to head south to meet the Americans. They’re to leave within the hour. The communication complex and a few of the air defenses are to remain behind, but everyone else in the division is to go.”
“But, Chosen One, if we do that there’ll be almost no one guarding this place. You’ll be vulnerable to an attack.”
“Nonsense, General. I’ll be fine. No harm will befall me. Allah will see to that. Until Islam rules and the world reaches its final days, I will live.” He could tell from el-Saeed’s face his general wasn’t happy with his decision. “And my mujahideen will watch over me.”
“Your bodyguards are great warriors. But two hundred men, no matter how fierce, no matter how loyal, cannot stop a determined opponent. All I’m asking is to give your directive some thought before sending your division to face the Americans.”
“What choice do we have? No one stands in the heretics’ way. We cannot allow them to advance unfettered. We’ve got to do something to give us time to capture Cairo and turn the tide.”
El-Saeed measured his words before speaking. “Chosen One, even if we were to capture the city, I’m not sure it would make any difference. Not with the enemy closing in on nearly every side. The American Marines and British tanks in the north are a mere forty kilometers away. We have viable defenses in their path, so we should be able to hold a little longer. But I cannot see what we’ll gain by taking Cairo. It’s too late to cross the Sinai and reach Israel even if we’re somehow victorious in the present battle.”
“Nonetheless, you are to keep attacking with everything we’ve got. For Allah’s plan to be realized, we must unite Islam. And the first step in doing so is to overthrow the Egyptian government. It’s been five days since our attack began. Are we any closer to capturing the capital than we were yesterday?”
“I’m sorry to report we are not,” el-Saeed answered. “It appears we’ve failed. What forces we’ve placed in the city are falling back. And while our attempts to get more of our soldiers across the river continue, we’re meeting with little success.”
“We must keep trying, General el-Saeed. The building of the bridges and fording of the river will continue until our enemies lie dead at our feet.”
The commander of the Pan-Arab army once more vacillated, weighing his options. His reluctance to follow the order to continue the assault on Cairo was unmistakable. The time had arrived to disclose the military reality. “Chosen One, it’s no use. We should cease our attack and withdraw from Egypt. We’ve no chance of taking Cairo. Our army’s beaten. Our men demoralized. Despite everything the mullahs have tried, many are discarding their weapons and beginning the long walk home. We’re shooting any deserters we find, but it’s not stopping them from trying. And it’s growing worse with each passing hour.”
El-Saeed expected a lengthy tirade from his leader. Yet Mourad just looked at him in eerie silence. It seemed an eternity before the Mahdi spoke again. “The assault will continue. But tell the political officers and our field commanders to allow those who wish to go to do so in peace. I will no longer judge those who turn away from our sacred mission. Make sure, however, those who leave understand that even though I’m not stopping them, Allah will be measuring their every action.”
“It will be done, Chosen One,” el-Saeed said.
Mourad looked at those assembled. He was far from ready to concede defeat. “Despite all that’s happened we won’t give up. We’ll persist in our holy venture. We’ll fight to the last man. We might falter in our righteous endeavor, but it won’t be because we’ve lost faith. If we fail it will be because Allah didn’t find our sacrifices befitting of his honor.”
“We all know why we’ve failed,” Kadar Jethwa, the high cleric of Algiers, said. “We’ve spoken of it many times in the past days. Allah’s displeased with your allowing the heretic woman and her companion to keep their heads. The signs are all there. To tolerate debased infidels in his Chosen One’s presence at such a crucial time has led to our downfall. They must forfeit their lives if we’re going to return to his favor.”
“Nonsense,” Mourad said. “I’ve heard too many discussions regarding my permitting the woman to live. And I’ve grown quite weary. I’ll hear no more talk of it. It was my decision to spare her life, and mine alone. To try to blame our shortcomings on her is without merit. We cannot place the responsibility onto anyone but ourselves. We’ve so far failed because Allah did not find our efforts worthy of his blessing. The woman has nothing to do with this. It’s we who must examine our piety before God.”
“But, Chosen One . . .” the high cleric said.
The Mahdi held up his hand. “The discussion of the woman is over.”
* * *
—
The sunset was drawing near. The time had come to honor his mother. With a pair of mujahideen to watch over him, he headed for the passage through the interior walls that would take him to the pyramid’s opening.
On his way through the antechamber he spotted Lauren Wells sitting in a corner. She appeared to be staring at nothing in particular. He wondered what it was she was thinking. She looked up and halfheartedly smiled. Other than Sharif, he’d never felt anything but uneasiness when dealing with women. He’d shunned female contact after his wife’s death, and until this moment had no desire for that to change. Yet for some unexplained reason, he didn’t feel that way about the engaging American. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d liked her from the moment they’d met.
He hesitated, trying to form the words. “Would you like to accompany me on my evening walk, Miss Wells?”
He seemed perfectly relaxed. She would have never suspected his world was in near collapse.
Her initial response to his invitation was astonishment. He’d barely acknowledged her presence in the past days. She soon recovered. Her smile became genuine. “I think I’d like that very much, Mr. Mourad. After
being in this room for so long, I’m starting to feel more than a bit cooped up. I’d enjoy the opportunity for some fresh air. Are you certain I won’t be intruding?”
“Not at all. In fact, I think I’d rather enjoy the company.”
Wells got to her feet. She was at least half a foot taller than the diminutive Algerian. “All right, then. I’d be honored to join you, sir.”
He turned toward the low entrance into the Grand Gallery. She followed close behind.
They were soon at the pyramid’s exit. She poked her head out, peering at the fading light upon the western desert. The late afternoon’s warmth was a welcome relief. They headed down the archaic stones toward ground level. When they reached the firm sands, she stopped to look upon the Nile. The sounds of fighting were still there. The battle was raging. Yet it wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been on the morning she’d arrived at the foot of the pyramids. To her surprise, the armored division guarding the plateau was nowhere to be found. She’d no idea where the tanks had gone.
The Mahdi started walking north, away from the Great Pyramid. He continued in that direction until he was even with the northernmost edge of the ancient western cemetery. Without a word, he turned and headed across the mesa toward the setting sun. One hundred meters silently passed. He’d reached the eons-old remnants of the deteriorating rock wall on the northern edge of the aboveground necropolis. He’d found the crumbling aperture during his earliest days on the plateau. He began walking next to the venerable limestone, out of sight of those at the pyramid. With the constant activity on the hilltop, it was the one place he could find a modicum of peace. His thoughts were on the distant past and the unassuming home where his mother had waited at the end of each day. Calmness gathered in his soul. His bodyguards kept their distance, giving him the space he craved. Nevertheless, they stayed vigilant, their rifles at the ready.
