by JC Ryan
“Ya al-Mahdi, when do you want this to happen?” Ahmad asked, knowing that such an ambitious plan could take months.
“Let us strike on their sacred holiday,” said Kazemi. “July fourth. Many will think the explosions are just fireworks. By the time they know differently, it will be impossible to save the buildings. Lay waste to Washington D.C., as the infidels did to our kinsmen in Baghdad.”
Three months, thought Ahmad. Could he pull it off? He could only try.
Chapter 37 - We’ll figure it out when we get back
It was a small wedding in mid-June, the bride and groom wanting to keep it low profile while the world was still in mourning for more than a billion dead. In respect and honor of the dead, they asked that nothing be submitted to the media, and that the ceremony remain private; closed especially to journalists. The bride’s and groom’s families were there of course, as well as Sarah’s extended family and special friends from the Foundation, those who’d been with the Rosslers from the beginning and a few good friends made along the way. President Harper and the First Lady slipped out of Washington for the day. JR and Rebecca were humbled that the couple would honor them in this way, but Daniel wasn’t surprised. President and Mrs. Harper were among the most down-to-earth people he’d met in the upper reaches of world leadership, and he’d met quite a few.
The bride and groom made a striking pair, Rebecca taller than average and her bridegroom towering over her. When the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” JR made sure that everyone observing understood Rebecca had been well and thoroughly kissed. Applause broke out, and the couple ran back down the aisle to the strains of “Home” by Phillip Phillips.
During the reception, Rebecca tossed the bouquet over her shoulder and it landed in the hands of both Angela Brown and Cyndi Self, who, rather than fight over it, handed it to Rebecca’s mom to be preserved for a keepsake. Neither woman was certain she even wanted to be the next to be married, but both secretly thought about their prospects. Robert grinned ear to ear when he saw that Cyndi had started out with the lion’s share of it. His mother would like her, he thought. Maybe she’d be willing to have a holiday and come with him to Aussie to help him pack up.
Then it was time to leave for a wedding night in downtown Denver at the Four Seasons, a gift from JR’s parents and grandparents. The following morning, the couple boarded a Delta flight direct to Athens. They would enjoy two weeks there before returning on July 4th, racing the sun to be home for fireworks that night
On the long flight east, Rebecca asked JR what he intended to do about his advanced studies. Without a degree, he couldn’t expect to achieve academic acclaim, but as she suspected, JR wasn’t sure that was what he wanted anyway.
“I’ve had a taste of the field, Becca,” he told her, entwining his long fingers with hers and admiring her wedding ring as he spoke. “I think I’d be happier just exploring. There are so many mysteries of this cycle, and we’re just the ones to unravel them, don’t you think?”
“Will Daniel support your proposals?”
“I think so. We didn’t get much of a chance to discuss it. I know your research will keep you close to home a lot of the time, but you could come on some of the expeditions with me, couldn’t you?”
“My darling, I wouldn’t miss any of them for the world. We’ll figure it out when we get back. I’ve agreed to join the Foundation staff, as you know, but the terms haven’t been set.”
Since they were on honeymoon, wanting to forget the cares of daily life, neither paid any attention to the news media until the morning they were to leave for home. Then there was no choice.
Chapter 38 - Anything that could go wrong
Ahmad was just about done with the Ayatollah Kazemi. First, the man had given him an almost impossible mission, to coordinate a simultaneous strike against, not just the seats of government of every country in the West, but also against the embassies of the United States wherever they were to be found. Not satisfied with that, he also wanted every foreign embassy in Washington destroyed at the same time. There had been three months to pull it off when Kazemi ordered it. He seemed to have no idea what planning must go into even a small coordinated strike.
To make sure no one fulfilled their mission early and thereby warned other targets, the men, and a few women, who were to carry out the suicide bombings were drilled, over and over again, on contingency plans, backups and communications. Elaborate plans to get the personnel into the countries where they were assigned to carry out their missions, and even more elaborate plans to acquire or transport the raw materials to manufacture the explosives, prepare the vehicles that would carry the resulting bombs, and make certain that no last-minute mistakes would abort the missions, were laid, analyzed, scrapped and re-built.
Even as he carried out his orders, Ahmad couldn’t help but believe that Kazemi had, as the infidels would say, gone off the deep end. At times, he even seemed to be ready to reveal the plans for the strike. Kazemi’s speeches had become more and more delusional, as he alternately called down the wrath of Allah on the infidels who had caused this deadly disease, and shook his fist, both metaphorically and physically, while spewing hate-filled threats about what he would do when he came into the full power of his incarnation as the Twelfth Imam.
It was unfortunate for the faithful, Ahmad thought, that they took literally Kazemi’s instructions not to trust in Western medicine, but instead in the faith of Islam. Because they did so, thousands who didn’t need to die did, cursing the name of the greatest infidel of all, the collective population of the United States of America. It made Ahmad’s task doubly difficult that his trained bombers kept succumbing to the virus as well, until he decreed that they would enter quarantine as soon as their training began, so as not to lose any more once they began training.
By the weekend of the 28th of June, all was in readiness, except for the last few anointed to be slipped into the US and one or two other Western countries. Kazemi had especially enjoyed the irony of sending the operatives into the US across the Mexican border. Their vaunted security was so tight, except for the long border with Mexico that was riddled with tunnels, miles of unattended desert and several border crossings where partygoers streamed across and back with only a largely futile token security check. It was such a joke, in fact, that American comedies were made about it all the time, and the government didn’t even attempt to suppress them.
Naturally, such a strategy meant that they were then exposed during the drive to Washington, but it was surprisingly easy to evade discovery. Americans were so afraid of being politically incorrect or being accused of profiling that they bent over backward to welcome even the most type-cast mujahedeen. If the mission hadn’t been so serious, Ahmad would have had a good laugh with al-Mahdi at the foolish Americans. It made him think of the great Persian king of old, Cyrus the Great, who conquered Babylon while its careless inhabitants were carousing and drunk.
All that remained now was to prepare the vehicles. Scores of explosives experts were in place to see to that, while the drivers prepared themselves spiritually for this, their great sacrifice in the cause of jihad.
~~~
On the morning of July 4th, more than a hundred suicide bombers made their prayers, though some would wait until a new day had nearly dawned before it was time for their mission. The strike was planned for eight p.m. in the Eastern time zone of the U.S., just as fireworks displays were about to begin. Suicide bombers would hit all street approaches to the White House at that precise moment. Elsewhere in the city, nearly two hundred embassies would also be attacked at the same moment. Cars filled with explosives would be driven through gates and barricades, while individuals carrying explosives under their robes would walk into crowds wherever they could find them and push the buttons.
At the same moment in every country in Europe and the Americas, so as to create the most confusion possible, both the seats of government and the American embassies would be hit. As the Americans once describe
d the first shots in their war of independence from Great Britain, it would be the ‘shot heard ‘round the world.’ Kazemi would have liked it if his enemies in Africa and Asia had also been included in the planning, but it was too risky. Even Israel would be spared this time, because if the Mossad were to catch wind of the plans, it would all fall apart. Ahmad had no one he could trust to successfully infiltrate Israel for such a delicate mission. It was too bad that the worst enemy of all would be spared this time, and that the strike would put them on even higher alert.
Because he was who he was, the son of his father and a proud man, Ahmad had done his best to carry out his orders with every hope of success. Because he was very intelligent, though, he had no doubt that the strike would be only partially successful, if that. There were too many places where something could go wrong. Casualties among the infidel would be heavy, but this was not the way to destroy them. And besides, everywhere a human being was involved, there was room for error. What did the Americans call it—Murphy’s Law? Anything that could go wrong probably would, and at the worst possible moment. These thoughts, however, he hid from Kazemi and from those who reported to himself. When the worst happened, and it would, he had a plan.
~~~
JR and Rebecca had had a wonderful two weeks, electing to tour the ruins on their own so that they could spend as much or as little time as they wanted at each major site. They promised themselves that they would come back some day when they had more time to explore the more modern of the many tourist attractions.
Their plane took off right on time, and they settled in for the fifteen-hour flight to Denver. They would arrive at about six and be in Boulder by seven, just in time for a family barbecue at Daniel and Sarah’s house followed by fireworks beginning at dusk, around eight p.m.
Chapter 39 - What the hell’s going on, Daniel?
JR and Rebecca wouldn’t make it to that family barbecue, however. At precisely six p.m. Denver time, with their flight still waiting for a runway for landing, Washington, D.C. went up in the smoke of more than two hundred suicide bombs, all coordinated to go off at once. The immediate effect was that all planes were ordered down and the airports closed--with anyone who happened to be inside at the time confined where they were until they could be cleared by TSA.
Inside their plane, chaos broke out as the pilot announced that there had been an attack of some sort on Washington, and that they would be making an emergency landing within moments. The mainly Greek-speaking occupants were confused about the emergency part of that announcement, since they had expected to land within moments anyway. The English speakers focused on the ‘attack on Washington’ part. What could that be about? It wasn’t until they were down and could see monitors all over the waiting rooms that they discovered Washington wasn’t the only one.
London, Paris, Berlin, Athens--Athens! The list went on and on. As news commentators filled the airwaves with speculation and drivel, it became clear that the attack had centered on Washington, DC, since it was the wee hours of the morning in the European capitals. For that reason, not much carnage had resulted in Europe, though there was plenty of damage. A few attempts had been foiled because alert police in some countries had stopped suspicious-looking cars en route to their destinations on streets otherwise empty due to the hour. The Americas hadn’t fared so well. Mexico City had suffered terrible human casualties because the bomber had struck just as the downtown dinner hour was commencing. Other capitals in South America suffered similar fates. That it was a Friday night made it particularly devastating, since more people were out and about on a Friday.
As soon as they reached an area where their cell phones would get a signal, both JR and Rebecca made calls to their families. JR reached Daniel first.
“What the hell’s going on, Daniel?”
“It isn’t clear, we’re just getting the news. I can’t get through to Harper, so I don’t know if he and the First Lady are okay. When can you get home?”
“I don’t have a clue. They’ve evidently decided that anyone who was in an airplane at the time is a suspect. We have to be cleared by TSA before we can leave.”
“Sit tight, I’ll see if I can grease the wheels. Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, fine, just shaken up by the news. I’d like to get Rebecca home to her family. She’s talking to her mom right now, and it sounds like her mom is hysterical.”
“Okay, I’m calling Luke.”
“Hurry, bro.”
JR sat with his arm protectively circling Rebecca as tears streamed down her face. He couldn’t formulate the question he had without risking an emotional storm, so he simply held her until she was ready to talk. It took a long time.
“Honey, all those people!”
“I know, Babe. I know you wish you were there helping, but I’m thankful that you’re here with me. I just wish we could get home.”
“Yeah, my mom is freaking out that we were still in the air when it happened. I guess she thought we’d fall out of the sky with such a disaster going on.”
“Daniel’s trying to get us out of here. You’ll be home to reassure her before you know it.”
“What does this mean, JR? Why has this happened?”
“Unless I miss my guess, it’s retaliation for the virus. It may just be the first salvo, but I don’t see them attacking Boulder.”
“What if they do? They have to know we’re there. What if they nuke Boulder just to get us? We should get far away, so if they want us, they don’t have to kill three hundred thousand people to get us.”
“Babe, you’re thinking crazy. That’s not going to happen.”
“But, what if it does?”
“Okay, in the first place, I don’t think they have any nukes left. If they do, I doubt they’d reach us here. Let’s just sit here quietly until we’re cleared and then go home and see what Daniel knows.”
Rebecca recognized the practical value of the suggestion and stopped peppering JR with ‘what-if’ questions, but her nimble mind couldn’t help but try to unravel the reason behind the attacks. What good would they do, from the perspective of the Middle East? The only thing she could come up with was revenge. And in that, she wasn’t far wrong.
Chapter 40 - I’m terrified
By the time for Fajr in Tehran, the Ayatollah Kazemi knew he had failed. Much damage had been done, but far less than he had imagined, and some of the martyrs had not reached their destinations at all. Only in America was the damage sufficiently satisfying, but even that was a hollow victory. Ahmad had brought him the news that the hated President Harper was unharmed and on American television saying that a few bombs and dead Arabs wouldn’t deter the US from following its course. Congress would meet the next day to decide whether to declare war. Ahmad had offered his resignation, and Kazemi had accepted. This was not their way; Kazemi suspected that the West had corrupted the boy. But he let it go. Ahmad had done the best he could.
Kazemi was weary. After prayer, he would take his rest and consider what to do next to defeat the infidel.
~~~
Harper felt he should be doing something. Four hours after the city was rocked with explosives, he was still restless, unable to comprehend how this could have happened, and on such a massive scale. He’d been with the National Security Council all evening, but there had been nothing but finger-pointing from those who should have been advising him. At eleven-thirty, he dismissed them, with instructions to be back the next morning at seven a.m.
Now he paced in the White House bedroom he shared with the First Lady. “Esther, should I have seen this coming?”
“You aren’t a prophet, Nigel. You’re only as good as your advisers. If anyone failed, it was they,” she said, as reasonably as she could. “Come to bed, darling. You can save the world tomorrow.”
Harper looked at his wife, seeing the worn face that had replaced the beauty he married. Had his presidency done this to her? Would he be able to look back in a few years, and say, ‘I did a good job; I’m proud of i
t’?” At the moment, he couldn’t answer that question. Hundreds of DC cops, FBI and representatives from the other security agency were losing sleep tonight, investigating, and determining how this had happened. How could he sleep when that was going on?
“My love,” he confessed, “I’m terrified.”
“Why, darling, I’ve never known you to be afraid of physical danger!”
“No, that’s not it. I’m afraid of what’s coming tomorrow and the next day and the next. We thought when we stopped the virus that the brinksmanship would be over. It isn’t over, and I don’t know what the world will look like when it is.”
Chapter 41 - May Allah let me …
The Erfan Grand Hospital, Abad, Tehran, the best private hospital in all of Iran.
A 45 year old man covered in a biohazard suit from head to toe walks in the door to reception. Inside everyone else is dressed the same as he, and he is taken to a room to be sterilized again. The otherwise well-organized hospital is chaos. People looking alien in biohazard suits; people sitting or standing everywhere, crying and in despair.
There are sick people everywhere, on the floors, under the beds as well as on them, a few in the chairs of the waiting rooms meant for family members of patients. The nursing staff is clearly overwhelmed, trying to cope with the sick and their families. The only thing to distinguish this place from a frontline battlefield aid station is that there is no blood on the floors or the hands and clothes of the staff. Instead, this is one of the few hospitals in the region that have not barred their doors to new patients.
The man is taken to a small ward, where he looks through a glass partition at a 34 year old woman and two young children, aged 4 and 8 to his certain knowledge, all lying in one bed. An old man and woman are lying next to each other on a mattress on the floor. His family—father, mother, his wife and his two children. There is a nurse tending to them, but none of them are moving. If only his wife would look up, so that he could say goodbye with the love in his eyes. They don’t even see him. He stands there looking at them, seeing their shallow breathing and the sweat on their bodies. He is not allowed to go in to them.
