"Allahu Akbar …", sprang from the previously quiet radio, the Arabic cry "God is Great", but the transmission never finished. Muhommad never even saw the incoming missile, otherwise he would have pressed the button on the small box in his lap. The five hundred pound metal cylinder travelling at over two thousand six hundred miles an hour homed in on the hot exhaust of his Lycoming engine. It was radar guided and once it had acquired the target it was game over.
The Raytheon guidance system was designed to explode the warhead just before it hit.
Seconds later, ninety pounds of high grade military explosive detonated just inches from Muhommad’s knees.
The shredded aircraft erupted into a fireball and fell silently into the tepid waters of the gulf below.
The explosion totally fragmented Muhommad’s body and blew his suitcase to pieces, scattering dense yellow powder over a wide expanse.
The Captain ordered a rescue and recovery craft launched, but in truth he did not expect that there would be much left to rescue. Like everything else that happened that day, it was just standard procedure.
"Captain, this is seaman Lewis on board rescue 7."
"Go ahead Lewis, have you found any wreckage?" asked Captain Johnson.
"It’s really weird Sir, there is not much to see except lots of dead fish floating on the surface."
Johnson suddenly had a sinking feeling in his stomach "Lewis, do you have a Geiger counter with you?"
"FUCK!!! THIS AREA IS RED HOT!!!"
"Relax seaman, you haven’t been in the water" replied the Captain trying to sound unworried, "Get back here on the double and hit the decontamination showers."
Lewis did not need to be told twice.
The Captain sprinted to his cabin and picked up the phone and called communications "Comms, get me an encrypted link to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, I want it yesterday" yelled the Captain.
Thirty seconds passed before a groggy voice answered "Admiral Nelson here."
"I am sorry to wake you Sir" explained Johnson.
"Son, for you to call me direct, I am guessing you have bad news, out with it!"
"Yes Sir………"
Johnson gave the Admiral the abridged version of the destruction of the small aircraft.
"Why the hell did you call me? It serves the bastard right."
"Admiral, the reason I called is because our Rescue & Recovery team found the area teeming with dead fish. A check with a Geiger counter confirmed that the sea around the crash site has readings off the dial. To get readings like that, there had to be exposure to weapons grade enriched uranium. Sir, I believe the aircraft was carrying a nuclear device."
"Oh my God. Let me think a moment…………Ok, get some guys in suits and get some samples of the sea water for analysis. I better wake the Commander-in-Chief. This will get ugly"
Chapter 3
President Adam Connolly and First Lady Monica Connolly were asleep in the Mansion when the phone rang. They were only three months into their first term, and were still very much in learning mode. The campaign had taken a big physical toll on both of them, and they were only just recovering from the sheer physical exhaustion.
They had of course spent a lot of time in the capital over the years, but the move from California certainly proved which state had the better weather.
The President and First Lady shared the Mansion with their fourteen year old son Michael, his younger eleven year old sister Julia, and Sooty their cross Shih Tzu toy poodle.
The President believed he functioned at his best when he was fully refreshed, and when he retired to his quarters in the West Wing at 9.30pm, he had told the staff that he was not to be disturbed unless it was important.
They were in deep sleep almost immediately.
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Tom "Horatio" Nelson picked up his handset and called the White House from the speed dial of his mobile phone.
"White House Operator, Jenny here. Good morning Admiral Nelson, how may I assist you?" All numbers were recognized on the most secure telephone system on the planet.
"I need to talk to POTUS" said the grim Admiral. This was the secret service term for President of the United States.
"Sorry Admiral, but the President has asked not to be disturbed" replied the operator curtly.
"Get him on this phone right now young lady, before I blame you with starting World War III" the Admiral was not in the mood for snooty underlings at a time like this.
"No need to be like that Admiral, it’s my job to follow the President’s wishes" said Jenny not expecting the tirade that followed.
"If I am not speaking to the President in the next ten seconds, you will never work in Washington again. Put me through right this fucking second."
His blood was still boiling when he heard the President’s sleepy voice answer with a hollow "Hello" almost immediately.
Without needless preliminaries, Admiral Nelson began. "Mr. President, this is Horatio, we have a serious situation in the Gulf, I need to brief you immediately."
"Is it really necessary to do it right now?"
"I believe it is Sir. I am afraid there is a very serious situation in The Persian Gulf."
President Connolly’s voice was still weary when he asked "Tom, how serious a situation are we talking here?"
"Sir, for the first time in history, a nuclear weapon was targeted against U.S. forces" said the Chairman’s somber voice.
"Oh shit, how many dead?" asked an instantly wide awake President Connolly.
"It was just one, Mister President. And not one of ours" explained Nelson.
"Thank heavens for small mercies. Meet me at the Oval Office in five minutes."
"What’s happening Adam, is everything ok?" asked Monica.
"Go back to sleep honey, this might be a long night."
The President pulled on a robe and slippers and without another thought strode out his door startling the two Secret Service agents on duty outside.
"Time for an early morning stroll Gentlemen" announced the President as he took off at double time for the Oval Office, followed by the two Secret Service agents getting into stride.
Part II
The Making of a Man
Chapter 4
The shining black Rolls Royce limousine dropped them off at a well appointed terrace house in the not yet upmarket London suburb of Notting Hill.
"Come back for us in two hours" said Razak Pashwari to the driver, as he hurried his sixteen year old son Kamal out of the back door.
Razak pushed the doorbell. There was a buzz, and the door clicked open. They walked down a small hallway and they were greeted by a beautiful, well dressed lady of around thirty five years of age, sitting behind a desk. She rose as they approached.
"Welcome to the Ivy, my name is Bonnie. Thank you for coming" said the shapely lady as she guided them into the next room where there were a number of couches "please take a seat."
Kamal sat instantly. Razak lightly grabbed Bonnie’s arm and they stepped back a few paces out of earshot and whispered for a few moments. Bonnie nodded agreement. Razak joined Kamal on the couch.
"Tell me young man, what type of girls do you like?" Bonnie asked Kamal.
"I am not sure" replied the blushing Kamal.
"No problem, I will be back in a moment."