by Ted Halstead
As she made the tea, Roya reflected on how lucky they were to work at a hospital that was not only one of the best in the country, but also one that specialized in cardiac and circulatory disorders. It spared them from the endless parade of ambulances with emergency cases at most other hospitals, and also let them work with some of the country’s best doctors.
Who, unfortunately, had egos to match.
The elevator announced its arrival with a chime and Farzeen burst out from it, waving her hands and saying in a singsong voice, “I’m here!”
Roya smiled and said, “Yes, indeed you are. Please, have a seat and let me get you some tea.”
As she sat next to Roya, Farzeen smiled back. “And you have cookies! I would have come faster if I knew you had cookies!”
Roya poured her tea and just kept smiling. She knew that wasn’t true, but she also knew Farzeen loved cookies, or for that matter any other sweet.
Roya refused to think of her friend as fat, and instead searched for another word… portly? Ample?
Well, it didn’t stop her from being a good friend.
“So, what will you do until the other guard shows up? That is, if he does show up!” Farzeen said, as her hand went to her mouth both to emphasize the horror of the thought and to try to keep crumbs from spilling out. She was mostly successful at both.
Farzeen added, “You know I want to stay with you until you go home, but I don’t think I should leave the lobby desk unattended that long.”
Roya nodded. She knew that Farzeen was taking a real chance as it was that the hospital security guard would report the time she was already spending with Roya.
“I’ve actually texted that Army officer who was here earlier this evening, and he’s on his way,” Roya said.
“Ah, the handsome Army officer! He reminds me of my husband when he was younger. A lot younger. Oh well, I don’t look like I did when we got married either. Didn’t stop us from having four children. So, do you like him?” Farzeen asked.
“Farzeen!” Roya exclaimed, blushing. “He’s coming here to ensure the Supreme Leader’s security, not on a date!”
“Humph,” Farzeen said around the cookie she was chewing. “Why can’t it be both? Tall, handsome and all business sounds like just your type. I’ll bet he’s the only man you’ve seen since you started working here who hasn’t made a pass at you.”
Now Roya was getting a little annoyed, because in fact Farzeen was right.
Roya’s mother had lost her father in the Iran-Iraq War, and perhaps as a result had never pressured her to marry. Like nearly all unmarried Iranian women, Roya still lived with her mother, and now that her sisters had all married she was the only one left. If Roya married, her mother probably thought it meant she’d be left alone.
Actually, Roya had already decided that if she did marry she would insist her mother continue to live with her. Meanwhile, Farzeen seemed determined to fill in for her mother in the “you should really get married” department.
“Well, maybe you’re right about that. One thing I can say for sure is that the young single doctors and the older married doctors have only one thing on their minds when they talk to me, and it’s not marriage,” Roya said tartly.
Farzeen laughed and patted Roya on the arm. “Oh dear, I think I’ve upset you. You’re right of course. You should get your mother to do a proper arranged marriage for you. Just look at how well it’s worked for me!”
Roya suppressed her urge to repeat all the complaints Farzeen had made about her husband over the past few years, and just smiled.
Farzeen looked over the few crumbs remaining on the tray and sighed.
“That was good tea! We should do it again this weekend at my house. You can tell me all about how it goes tonight with the handsome officer!”
Roya couldn’t help laughing. “You’re incorrigible! But, yes, of course I’ll come. Just let me know when, and what I can bring.”
Farzeen stood up. “I will. And now I have to head back. First, let me help you clean this up.”
Together they made short work of cleanup, and then as Roya was putting the tea glasses away she noticed the storage closet was ajar. Sighing at the mess she could see in the cabinets inside, she asked, “Why can’t the other shifts ever clean up after themselves?”
Farzeen laughed and said, “Because they’re lazy and good for nothing! Not like us hard workers! And speaking of work, I really do need to go back."
Roya gave her a quick hug. “I know. Thanks for coming up.”
Farzeen smiled. “See you this weekend!”
With a sigh, Roya turned back to the storage cabinets, and began putting things back in their proper place. What could they have even been looking for?
Roya heard the elevator’s chime, and at first thought it was just coming for Farzeen. Then she heard Farzeen’s voice saying, “Oh, you must be the replacement guards.”
Guards plural, Roya thought with a frown. Why more now, in the middle of the night?
“What’s all that you have with you?” Roya heard Farzeen ask, followed almost immediately by a sound Roya couldn’t identify, and a distinct thud.
Her heart beating wildly, Roya crept towards the partly open storage closet door and peered around its edge. What she saw nearly made her cry out. It was Farzeen’s only partly visible body, with blood beginning to pool next to it.
Roya carefully drew the supply closet door shut, until it was only open a bare crack.
“Idiot!” she heard one of the men say. “Why don’t you try talking to people first, before just killing them.”
A different, and sullen, voice responded. “We didn’t have any good answers to her questions. She would have talked to that security guard downstairs if we’d let her go. And what if then he’d called the police? He already looked suspicious when we went past him in the lobby.”
Now the first voice again, this time sounding exasperated. “Well, it’s done.
Get her body out of sight and clean up this blood. If that guard sticks his head out of the elevator later, I don’t want him to know instantly that something’s wrong. I’m going to check on the Supreme Leader.”
Roya pulled out her cell phone, not even aware that tears for her friend were flowing down her face. The messaging app was still open. She texted, “They killed my friend. Hiding. Hurry.”
This time there was no answer. Her heart sank, and then Roya realized it might be because the officer knew texting her back could cause her phone to make a sound that would reveal her presence.
Please, God, let him be that smart, she thought.
For the next several minutes all Roya could hear were sounds that she correctly guessed were Farzeen’s body being moved and cleaning up her blood.
Now the sullen voice spoke again. “OK, done with the body. Should I check to make sure there’s nobody else on this floor?”
Roya thought her heart would stop, and knew she’d stopped breathing.
The first voice answered immediately. “We don’t have time to waste on that. There’s only one nurse on this floor, and the Supreme Leader is the only patient. Now get over here and help me move him.”
Now Roya did know she was crying, though she managed to do so silently.
Without Farzeen having been here, it would have been her lying dead on the floor.
A shadow passed by the storage closet door, and Roya next heard both men cursing at the end of the hall. She opened the door a bit wider, and could now see one of two large men wheeling the Supreme Leader and his gurney out of his room. The other man was wheeling a cart holding his respirator.
Roya shook her head. It was obvious neither man knew what he was doing.
She wondered whether the Supreme Leader was even still alive.
She got her answer immediately. “Is that thing still working?” the man in charge asked. The one that she now realized had killed Farzeen answered as sullenly as before. “Yes. It has a backup battery, which should last long enough if we hurry.”
Roya had hoped that the security guard downstairs would stop the men, or at least call the police, if he saw them leaving with the Supreme Leader. Her heart now sank, as she saw them moving toward the service elevator. Of course! That way they wouldn’t encounter anyone at this late hour.
Just before they reached it, though, Roya exultantly saw Arif Shahin bent low next to another soldier, who both had rifles out and pointed at the
Pasdaran men. They were moving silently forward, and Roya wondered why she hadn’t heard the elevator chime.
Because they took the stairs, she told herself. Ok, he is smart.
Later, Roya didn’t even remember deciding to do it. But at this moment, she lifted the cell phone that was still in her hand and began recording the scene in the hallway.
Now the Pasdaran men finally saw the soldiers and quickly moved the Supreme Leader’s body between them, while pulling out their guns.
“Drop your weapons,” Arif ordered.
“Drop yours,” both of the Pasdaran men said, almost simultaneously.
“You have no authority to move the Supreme Leader,” Arif said.
“Surrender, or we will open fire.”
“And risk killing the Supreme Leader? I think not,” one of the Pasdaran men sneered.
“I have more soldiers on their way, and they’ll be here any minute,” Arif replied calmly. “We’ll have to act, because that respirator isn’t going to last long on battery. So, your only choice is to surrender.”
Roya could see one of the men moving up his rifle to fire. Just as she was going to call out a warning, she saw Arif smoothly move his rifle towards the man and fire a single shot. The sound was deafening.
The Pasdaran man was thrown backward and his rifle flew from his hands.
He twitched once, and then stopped moving.
The other Pasdaran man then lifted his rifle and yelled, “Yes, I do have another choice!” before firing several rounds from his crouch behind the Supreme Leader into the comatose man’s body.
Both Arif and the other soldier ran forward, and as soon as they had a clear shot both fired at the assassin. From her angle Roya couldn’t see, but she was sure the assassin was dead.
Moments later Arif walked to the storage closet and slowly opened the door, to find Roya on the floor sobbing, with her phone lying on the floor beside her.
“They killed her, and now they killed him!” she cried.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Arif said gently. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
Roya shook her head, and unsteadily got to her feet. She felt Arif’s hand on her arm helping her rise. His face was full of concern as he asked again, “Are you sure you’re OK?”
From anyone else the repeated question would have annoyed her. From Arif, for some reason, it did not.
Roya nodded, and then asked, “Do you really have more soldiers coming?”
Arif replied, “Yes, and I think I hear them on the stairs now.” Now Roya could hear them too. Unlike Arif and the other soldier, these were making no effort to conceal their approach.
Arif looked down at Roya’s phone, which she had left lying on the floor.
Arif bent down and picked it up, and then handed it to her. Then he asked, “I saw us on the screen. Did you record what happened?”
Roya looked at the phone, her expression dazed. “I guess so, though I don’t remember deciding to do it.”
Arif said gently, “I understand. Is it OK if I borrow your phone, just until we can copy that recording?”
Roya nodded. “Yes. Anything that will help you catch whoever sent those men. Kidnapping the Supreme Leader wasn’t their idea.”
Arif cocked his head. “What makes you think so?”
Roya’s face contorted with hatred, and then she collected herself and said evenly, “I’m surprised those two had the wits between them to lace their boots. Men like that take orders, they don’t give them.”
Arif looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “I think you’re right.”
He paused and said, “My most trusted soldier is going to take you home. You have my word that we’re going to make sure your friend’s body is treated with dignity. I will see you tomorrow to return your phone, and if you’re up to it probably ask you more questions. In the meantime, please stay home and say nothing to anyone. Can you do that for me?”
Roya nodded mutely. It all seemed like a terrible nightmare, but as she looked at the Supreme Leader’s body at the end of the hall, she knew it was one that soon the entire nation would share.
Chapter Twenty Five
Near Intersection of Highway 522 & Aramco Road, 228 Kilometers East of Riyadh
Prince Bilal looked around him at the barren desert landscape as the Qatari armored force approached a major highway intersection. This, like the other spots where he thought the Saudis might have rushed an armored force to stop him, was eerily empty.
Bilal had ordered the Al-Nadha men dressed as Saudi Highway Patrolmen he had been told to expect near Al-Hofuf to go ahead of their armored force, to clear the way of civilian vehicles. Over the last half-hour that had proved unnecessary so he had ordered them to depart down a side road, as in battle their patrol cruisers would be useless.
Maybe the word was out that his force was on its way. Or maybe the Saudi military had set up roadblocks. Either way, Bilal was glad the road to Riyadh was clear. Though his Leopards were capable of going up to sixty-eight kilometers per hour on the highway many of his support vehicles were less speedy, so he was going at a relatively sedate fifty kilometers per hour.
Bilal glanced behind him, where most of his two hundred tanks and all the assorted support vehicles and APCs followed, including the two S-300s he was counting on to keep them safe from air attack. He had them spaced out as he’d been taught at the German Armor School where one of the first lessons had been, “Don’t let one shell take out two tanks.” When a tank suffered a penetrating hit it quite often set off some or even most of the rounds it carried as well as its fuel, which could result in an explosion capable of damaging a nearby tank. That damage would usually not be total but could easily involve knocking off or, even worse, damaging the tank’s treads.
Spaced out, there were far more vehicles behind him than Bilal could see, though the view from his perch in the tank’s open cupola was excellent. The sky could not have been clearer, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
A Leopard tank platoon was in front of him for security, and two scout Fenneks were ahead of the entire force. Jointly produced by the Dutch and
Germans, Bilal would have never looked at the Fenneks if it hadn’t been for the decision to buy Leopards from the Germans.
The Fennek was a light armored vehicle that had proved its worth in Afghanistan, where one had taken a penetrating hit from an RPG that blew off one of the doors, but thanks to its interior spall lining its occupants suffered only minor injuries. Built for reconnaissance, it featured an extendable mast with a camera, thermal imager and laser rangefinder, and was Bilal’s best chance of seeing the Saudis before they spotted him.
Bilal noticed the flock of birds, and at first it reminded him of the time he’d spent in Germany. The sheer variety of plants, birds and animals living in the area where he had done his training on the Leopard had astonished him, and his sinuses in particular had gone through a painful but ultimately successful adjustment period.
Then Bilal’s blood froze as he realized there are no bird flocks in the desert.
Bilal dropped inside the turret, slammed the hatch shut behind him, and grabbed the radio handset.
“Disperse! Smoke! Air attack!” he yelled into his radio, which was keyed to transmit force-wide, and was gratified to see that his crew and all the vehicles in sight were quick to follow orders. They immediately veered off the highway, deployed smoke and began evasive driving.
Seconds later, BLU-97/B Combined Effects Bombs guided by the DT-X microdrones began to fall on the Qatari force. Many Leopards held up well
under the bomblet assault. The addition of modular armor to their 2A7 variant proved its worth, and even after hits cleared that away the spaced multilayer armor underneath also proved to be tough to crack.
But turret hits were fatal. So were multiple hits at or around the same spot on the Leopards’ top armor. Bomblet explosions directly to the sides of the Leopards did nothing to the crews inside, but damaged or destroyed their tracks and even more critically their wheels. Without functioning wheels to attach them to, replacement tracks were worthless.
Bilal’s orders were, on balance, responsible for saving many of his tanks.
Not all the DT-X microdrones were able to make the rapid course adjustment necessary to follow their Leopard, and others lost the laser lock on their tank due to dust and smoke.
However, Bilal’s orders were a blessing for the DT-Xs in one other regard.
Even at the Leopards’ fifty kilometers per hour the microdrones had been falling behind, because the tiny plasma jets that powered them were quite weak. The DT-Xs’ laser illumination range was impressive, but not infinite.
If they had continued on the highway, at least a few locks would have probably been lost.
The DDV–X footage of the attack would later serve as the justification for increasing its battery size to increase the DT-Xs’ top speed. But it was agreed by all analysts that if the Leopards had remained on the highway, fewer would have survived.
One of the Tomahawks had malfunctioned in flight and been destroyed remotely by Oregon, bringing the number of bomblets deployed slightly below four thousand. Two other Tomahawks successfully deployed their bomblets, but lost their DT-X provided lock, and exploded harmlessly into the desert sand.
Two of the Tomahawks and a dozen DT-Xs had been assigned to the S-300s.
The remaining nineteen Tomahawks found their Leopards, and successfully injected air into their remaining fuel just before impact to produce a thermobaric explosion. The scientists at Los Alamos who had worked on the project had projections for the explosive force that would be released, and later assessed that based on the DDV–X footage of the attack if anything, their projections had been too conservative.