tactical airpower in this region, and that would certainly help our cause. We must wait, however, to confirm American intentions before making our move.”
Mohammed al-Hazari exploded at their overwhelmingly negative attitudes. “My brothers,” he cried, “we should all be willing to make whatever sacrifices are necessary to throw out the infidels and establish Allah’s rule throughout the Middle East. By overthrowing the Saudi regime and taking control of OPEC oil—the same oil that is used by the infidels to run their satanic economies—we can bring them to their knees. It will give us the power needed to wage a successful jihad. This Chunxiao thing, whatever you call it, is the sign we’ve waited for over the past two years. Now, my brothers, now! Now is the time to strike,” he shouted passionately, slamming his fist on the table.
The contentious argument that followed concerned Mustafa. Without doubt, they all wanted jihad, but as military planners, they could not ignore the practical realities of power. Passion and hope alone could not overthrow the infidels, Mustafa knew. Cold, hard power was the only thing the infidel swine understood.
It was not the first time a discussion of this sort had occurred, but the intensity and passion behind it took on a disrespectful tone that bothered Mustafa. He needed to get everyone back on track.
“My brothers,” he said, with all the propriety and respect he could muster, “we have been through so much together. In many respects, I believe you are all correct in what you are saying. We all agree that the time is near to strike. That is not in question, is it?
“Clearly,” he continued, “the Western powers will be preoccupied with events in the East China Sea, but it also seems clear they are not letting their guard down, at least for now. If, in fact, the Western powers become totally preoccupied with the Pacific, we will know then that our time has come to strike. It is difficult to know how these things will play out, but surely we can conclude events are moving in the right direction.”
He took a big drink of water and continued: “We must be prepared to initiate our plan within forty-eight hours’ notice or risk discovery from our stepped-up activities. That means our Unit 22 commando teams must be in position to take out key leaders and mine our oil fields with the radioactive dirty bombs, and our atomic bomb demonstration must be ready to go within thirty-six hours of launch time. General Jabar, will these weapons be ready to go on forty-eight hour notice?”
“Yes, Prince Mustafa, they will,” replied the arrogant and cunning general. “The dirty bombs are now encased with either cobalt-60 or cesium-137 particles. Once detonated with conventional explosives, a bomb will render the area around it a radioactive wasteland for decades. We have a sufficient number of dirty bombs to booby trap all of our main oil fields, with a few extras for use elsewhere—like, perhaps, targets in Israel.”
“Wonderful,” Mustafa replied. “What about our demonstration atomic bomb?”
“Our atomic bomb can be ready for explosion at the prescribed time, and the four smaller reserve nukes can be readied within ninety-six hours of notice. The demonstration bomb will have the strength of roughly forty kilotons of TNT—twice the size of the infidels’ A-bomb on Hiroshima. With our delivery systems, we can also threaten the infidels with an electromagnetic pulse attack.”
Bawarzi interrupted again. “Please refresh me, General, on the destructive range of our EMP weapon.”
Mustafa’s irritated frown was ill-disguised. Has Bawarzi remembered anything that has been planned?
“Certainly, my brother,” Ali Jabar replied, obviously eager to show off his knowledge. “The electromagnetic pulse bomb is merely an atomic bomb that is exploded about a hundred kilometers above an enemy target. The massive release of electrons from the explosion at that altitude
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