Sunday walked over to Krysti after Mike moved his celebration to the players. “That’s another thing about Beau. He always worries about his men. In combat, Ruben said he always went first and the rule was if he didn’t make it, no one else was to try. He never lost a man on any combat missions.” Then she pointed to the men. “I’ll bet he has saved Ruben, Sully, and BJ each at least twice.”
Beau walked up half-carrying Fitz. “Hey, Krysti what did you think of Fitz’s catch?” He looked all around. “Where’s Justin?”
She waved toward the celebrating group. “He’s with Ruben.”
Just then they heard, “Beau!” He turned just in time to catch the small boy and swing him to his shoulders.
“Whatcha think of the game, Champ?”
Justin tapped Beau on the head. “You’re the Champ. You played great. I hope I can play that good.”
Beau tried to turn his head up and back so he could see Justin. “One day you will be better than we ever were.”
“You think so? Really?”
“Yep, really.”
Krysti watched, wishing Justin’s dad had done the same thing. Even so, watching Beau with Justin made her feel warm inside.
“Come on you guys. Let me get you some drinks,” she said.
Soon they were with the rest of the team and the impromptu celebration. Marix strolled over to Krysti and put his arm around her shoulders. “Not a bad game.”
“All of you played very well. Congratulations on your catch, Mark,” she said to Fitz. She wanted to say what a beautiful pass it was that won the game… but she didn’t. Marix would only get angry, but as every minute passed she regretted her decision.
“Yeah Fitz, it was a beaut,” said Beau as he sipped his soft drink.
“Nice pass,” Fitzhenry admitted.
“Yes, we played well,” added Marix. “Krysti, you ready for tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Good. What time, Ruben?” asked Marix.
Ruben coughed into his drink and Sunday frowned at him. “Oh, about 1900 hours.”
“I have a quaint place picked out for dinner. I have to go now. See you at 1900 hours,” said Marix, making sure to give Krysti a peck on the cheek in front of Beau before he made a hasty departure from the small group.
After Marix left, Beau called out, “Hey, Ruben.”
“Yep?”
“What time?” he asked and both women snickered but Ruben again choked on his drink and didn’t answer.
“In case you didn’t know,” said Beau with a sigh as he crushed the tin can in his hand, “I’m going to kill you.” He jumped up and started running toward his friend. But for once, Ruben was faster as he tried to make his escape. The women broke into a fit of laughter.
The small executive jet made a perfect landing at the newly completed Mexican airport 200 miles south of the Texas border. Half a dozen commercial airliners rested quietly at the terminals, with no travelers and no tourists. The nearby roads were barricaded and guarded with military troops. Numerous large hangars surrounded the airport. Unobserved from the air, all the hangars were filled with jets and men working furiously to ready them. But they were not commercial jets. They were fighter jets, and nearly combat ready! Recently two new airports had been built in Mexico. One was located near the Gulf of Mexico while the other was near the Gulf of Baja on the Pacific side. The two large airports were more than fifty miles from the nearest city. Before construction had started, government officials were informed the distant location from nearby cities was due to the environment. The distance would alleviate pollution and noise problems from the surrounding towns, which would also allow room for growth.
But no officials questioned why neither airport was near a major highway. And no one asked why private foreign investors had purchased the land and started construction. American intelligence had readily accepted the explanations.
The executive jet taxied to the main terminal. Two men exited the plane and were hastily ushered in. Sharafan and his leading officer and trusted friend, Tahar Zahir, who had fought with Sharafan in Iraq and Afghanistan, were the last to arrive. Inside the large meeting area were gathered the military leaders of the Coalition prepared to overthrow the United States government. Five years of careful preparation had narrowed down to a single day. The final details were being carefully arranged and rechecked to assure no mistakes.
The most remarkable part of the whole plan had been the minimal leak of information about the invasion. The first five years had been spent hand-picking the warriors. Leaks had been most feared. There had been some, but those who leaked information and those who found out were all dead. Plus, and most important, no one believed and no one reacted to the leaked information anymore.
At the front of the room stood three men: a Cuban, a Syrian, and a Colombian. Each was the leader of one of the three separate points of attack. The Cuban would originate the attack from Cuba. The Syrian would lead the attack through the western part of the United States. The Colombian, General Navarro, was in charge of the attack through Texas. He was to secure all bases as far north as possible. General Navarro stood before the group in front of a large map of the United States, using a pointer to show and explain how the attack was to take place. “Our attack will consist of three fronts. We will attack I the east, west, and central United States. Three groups of twenty men will control the attacks based from the two new airports in Mexico and one in Cuba. Once the bases in the United States are secure, they will relocate to strategic bases under their control.”
So far the plan was working to perfection. Only two weeks earlier, war had apparently broken out between Israel and Egypt, leaving Iraq caught precariously in the middle. American troops returned determined once again to have their demands followed and obeyed. As in Desert Storm of 1991 and Operation Iraqi Freedom of 2003, the United States sent two-thirds of its million-man army and started to activate reserve units.
The United States sent 1500 of the more than 3500 fighting aircraft to the Persian Gulf, leaving less than 1500 aircraft in America. More than 500 were already placed in strategic areas around the world. Most of the destroyers and frigates were sent to protect the five nuclear aircraft carriers. American troops had arrived and preparations were being made. Half the troops were already placed on Saudi soil. The aircraft carriers were still fully loaded, and vulnerable.
The United States had acted just as predicted: exactly as they had in the preparations of Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom. President Obama found the apparent turmoil in the Middle East a chance to show the American people his true character. When he backed the sending of troops, he had done the predictable, the same as the previous presidents before him. Now, all the Coalition had to do was execute the plan. The American reaction was, day for day, exactly as the response to Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom.
For Sharafan and his men, the time for waiting was over. They were ready for action. His only regret was not being present to see the destruction of the American forces in the Persian Gulf. But he was assured of greater pleasure by being one of the first foreign invaders on American soil in 200 years.
Navarro looked into the faces of the men. “New Year’s Day has been chosen for the invasion. The attack will occur at noon in the United States, while our forces in the Persian Gulf will initiate their part under cover of darkness. The initial attack on troops in the Persian Gulf will come from Yemen, Oman, Qatar, and Iraq.”
What at first had appeared like a defensive build-up against Israel was, in reality, an offensive four prong attack against American troops.