“It begins!”
he yelled, throwing his arms out wide.
A single clap was soon followed by a thunderous ovation.
His lower lip jutted out — his Mussolini look, he called it. He raised his head and put his hands on his hips in what he thought of as his Patton pose. Soldiers stood and continued cheering and when the applause began to die Alqahiray began to clap, bringing renewed vigor to another round of self-congratulatory ovation. Alqahiray enjoyed the adulation.
Jihad Wahid had been launched and only those in this room knew the exact time that war with America had begun.
The computer, where the program resided, beeped, drawing the colonel’s attention from the festive spirits. A series of indecipherable script, numbers, and signs rushed across the screen, scrolling upward. The operating software was self-destructing from a daeman virus delivered with the package.
“Damn them!” Alqahiray shouted.
Walid jumped, throwing his hands up to ward off a nonexistent slap.
Colonel Alqahiray dove for the interrupt switch to save the program, desperate to keep the surreptitiously made bootleg copy.
Realizing what was happening, Walid leaped forward and jerked the plug from the wall.
“What do you think?” the colonel asked, stepping back.
“I don’t know, sir. We’ll turn it back on and see if we can recover the data.” Walid wiped his brow. What if the colonel blamed him for this?
“Good, Walid. But I think you’ll be unsuccessful. Obviously our friends had little trust and no intent of leaving us with anything that someday may be used on them. Seems our one-time buy was for a one-time use.” Alqahiray placed his hands behind his back and strolled across the room to the command chair, reconciled to the loss.
“Play with it, Walid, but don’t feel bad if you’re unable to do anything. If they’re capable of making what we bought, then they are easily capable of protecting their programs.”
Walid saluted. He plugged the computer back in and began the mentally intensive job of recovering the software and reconfiguring the system.
The colonel sat down. The few standing followed suit, quickly turning their attention to individual tasks. A pensive look crossed his face as he watched the soldiers for a while before his gaze moved upward. Screens, the size of those in small movie theaters, mounted on the walls high above the electronic systems on the floor and below the satellite warning lights, showed various intelligence data and situational projections. From here Colonel Alqahiray would watch Jihad Wahid. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. From behind, a young soldier in a white coat and gray slacks handed him a cup of strong tea.
All things come to those who wait, says the Koran, and the colonel had waited and planned for years. The next few days would be enjoyable. He laughed. This far underground, even if the Americans discovered the location, there was little they could do; and when he finished, the Mediterranean Sea would be an Islamic one and Europe would be a pawn forced to bend to his influence.
Ah, the tea was just right. Hot, steaming aroma, tickling the nose. Sweet, strong tea with a touch of cream to titillate the tongue. He savored the taste a couple of seconds before taking the first swallow.
He motioned to Major Samir, the intelligence officer.
“Where is the American destroyer?”
“Colonel, the warship is approximately forty nautical miles northwest of Benghazi on a southeasterly heading.”
“Like dogs attracted to poisoned meat they come. Major Samir. So, tell me the disposition of the American Navy.
Aircraft carrier? Any change?”
“No, sir. Colonel. The American aircraft carrier Roosevelt is the nearest and it is in the Persian Gulf. It will not be allowed to return. That leaves only the American amphibious task force in the Mediterranean. The USS Nassau is the lead ship. She is an amphibious assault ship-called an LHA by the Americans — one of the older Tarawa-class units. The Nassau has a minimum of eight AV-8 Harriers on board. She also has at least six CH-53 Super Stallion helicopters. There may be more helicopters belowdecks. Our agent counted them when the task force visited Livomo recently. If she is fully manned by the United States Marines then she will have approximately one thousand seven hundred troops on board. We do not know what type of landing craft she has embarked.”
“I am not concerned about the Marines at this time, Major Samir,” Colonel Alqahiray snapped.
“What will the Nassau do during the destroyer’s mission?”
“Sir, they have already started supporting the destroyer USS Gearing. Two Harriers from the Nassau are orbiting about one hundred miles northeast of Tripoli. We expect them to continue a combat air patrol for the duration of the destroyer’s mission along our coast.”
“Do they really think Harriers can stand up against a highperformance fighter such as our MiG-25 or MiG-23?
They are stupid if they do.”
“What counts. Colonel, is that they are United States Marines and, regardless of the odds, we know they will fight. They won’t run.” The colonel gave his intelligence officer a look of disgust.
“Then they will die.”
“Yes, sir. They will die, but they will fight.”
Major Samir bent his head to break eye contact before he continued, changing the subject back to safer ground.
“The amphibious task force has been re designated a battle group by their Sixth Fleet commander because of the departure of the carrier two weeks ago. The nearest real fighter aircraft are United States Air Force F-16s stationed far to the north at Aviano, Italy. We have agents observing the base who will tell us if they move south.”
“Tell me again the other ships with the USS Nassau,” the colonel directed, waving his cigarette at the major, the smoke weaving an erratic pattern between them.
“Along with the Nassau are two old Austin-class amphibious transport docks, the USS Nashville and USS Trenton.”
Major Samir flipped hurriedly through the papers in his hands before he found what he was looking for.
“The Nashville has four Sea Cobras on board along with a minimum of six CH-46 Sea Knight helicopters. The Trenton has a mix of two additional Sea Cobras along with two CH-53 helicopters.”
“That is their air power in the Mediterranean?” the colonel asked, displaying a broad smile.
“Yes, my colonel.”
He clapped his hands.
“Why do I always feel so good when I hear this information. Major Samir? Is it because I know that Allah has ordained our victory even before we begin?”
Major Samir pushed a wisp of sweat-matted black hair back across the top of his head.
“Colonel, along with the Nassau battle group are the Aegis-class cruiser USS Yorktown-“
“She is an old ship. Not much to fear there. Major.”
“Yes, sir. She is old, but she, like the Hayler and the Spruance, has the vertical launch system in her bow loaded with Tomahawk and Harpoon missiles. The Tomahawks can reach Libya from where they are operating now, southeast of the Italian island of Lampedusa near the Strait of Sicily.
They can launch them without warning.”
“Quit worrying. They can, but they won’t. The Americans will, as usual, beat their chests and chase their allies to get a consensus before they react and by then Jihad Wahid will be completed. Old Saddam taught us the secret of jerking the American tiger. No, we will have changed history by the time they can respond.”
Major Samir nodded. He doubted Alqahiray knew what he was talking about, but he also knew the folly of disputing the colonel’s views. So he continued, “Yes, sir. The destroyer USS Gearing, which is conducting this navigational freedom mission, is a new DD-21 destroyer. She is only one of two warships in the American battle group commissioned within the last ten years. Her combat capabilities are still being assessed. She was designed for minimum crew and ultimate computer-controlled war fighting.”