Moaning came from the figure lying on the floor. “Can’t you die in quiet, Mahmud?” Colonel Alqahiray yelled. He kicked his cousin in the side, drawing a weak scream from the man. His combat boot came away spotted with blood. The cousin’s head fell to the side as he exhaled and died.
“To hell with you, Walid. What if I refuse to retire? What if I refuse to go to the countryside and, as you say, become a shrine for the people to worship as a founding father of the new republic?” he asked, derision dripping like hot fat from his lips. “Who is going to run this diverse military? You?” He laughed. “You can’t even run the computers without someone sitting there punching the keys for you.
You’ve never been in charge of anything larger than a platoon on a field exercise. No, Walid, you can’t do it. This new country needs me and you know it.” He paused. Then, sticking his hand out, and in a voice disturbingly calm, he said, “Surrender those guns and return to your positions and we will forget this ever happened.” He reached for Samir’s gun.
Samir stepped back out of reach; the gun never wavered from Alqahiray’s direction.
“Colonel, unless you accept our offer of early retirement then we will be forced to go to plan B,” said Walid.
“And what, pray tell, is plan B, camel shit?” The calm tone disappeared.
Samir pulled the slide back on his pistol, glanced to make sure a bullet was loaded, and then let it go.
“Plan B is that you become a martyr, sir. Your cousin killed you and we killed your cousin.”
“I have had it with playing around with you three low-caste dogs.”
Colonel Alqahiray leaped for Walid.
Samir shot the colonel in the arm, knocking the man backward into the wall.
Though the operations theater was soundproof, Walid still glanced at the locked door as if expecting a security team to burst in at any moment.
Colonel Alqahiray moaned and put his hand over the bullet wound.
“Congratulations, Colonel,” said Walid. “You have been wounded in the battle. It will add to your mystique. What more could a hero ask for?
A new nation needs heroes to rally a diverse populace. You are that hero. Dead or alive, we accomplish the same results. The Islamic Republic of North Africa and Barbary will need respected public figures to represent the will of the people. Respected figures to present on parades and give guidance. Colonel, please accept our offer,” Walid begged. “It is your one way to live in greatness. We do not want to kill you.” The colonel continued to press his left hand over the wound as he stared past Walid at the far wall. “You shot me.”
Walid signed. “It is truly the only offer we are prepared to make.”
Colonel Alqahiray looked down at the bullet wound. “You shot me?” His eyes were wide in astonishment. He had made the plans for this victorious day. “I can’t believe it. You shot me. Me, Colonel Alqahiray,” he mumbled, disbelieving what was happening.
“It was with reluctance that Major Samir shot you, Colonel. It was truly an accident.”
“Yes, with true reluctance,” Samir added, smiling. He lifted the pistol to his lips and blew across the barrel. “True reluctance.”
“Samir, no!” Walid cried. Then he turned to Colonel Alqahiray. “The story we will tell is that your cousin shot you. A cousin who worked for the satanic CIA. In self-defense you killed him, but not without receiving a wound yourself. You will be a hero, Colonel. The people will worship you as no other Arab leader has been worshipped, including Gamal Abdel Nasser, Muammar Qaddafi, Anwar El Sadat, or the aging Saddam Hussein. Only Mohammed will be better known than you. All you have to do is cooperate.”
The colonel slid down the wall to a sitting position. His hand compressed the wound to slow the bleeding. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed. How could this be happening? This entire scheme had been his idea — his genesis. He’d personally convinced the Chinese it would work. He shook his head in disbelief.
“Colonel, though you are shaking your head no, I believe what you are trying to say is that you accept our offer?”
After a few seconds the colonel raised his head, looked at Walid, and nodded.
Walid smiled, a breath of gratitude escaped. “Thank you, Colonel. As a retired hero you must not try to regain your position or plot against the republic, and will not try to escape from your retirement home.
Agreed?”
The colonel nodded again. How could this be happening to him? He was Colonel Alqahiray — Al Madi. “I can’t believe you shot me,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it. I am the father of this new nation.”
“Yes, my colonel, you are. But even fathers someday must step aside for their sons.”
Walid motioned to the two intelligence officers standing nearby. One of the security guards walked to the door and opened it. Additional security personnel rushed inside.
“Lieutenant, the colonel is wounded. His cousin, working for the American CIA, shot him, and the colonel was forced to kill the traitor.
Please take him to medical for treatment. Major Samir and his team will accompany you, and escort the colonel to a safe haven afterwards.”
The security guards saluted Colonel Walid. They reached down and pulled Colonel Alqahiray up from the floor. They lifted the hero of the republic between them.
“Colonel,” Walid said, touching the founding father affectionately on the good shoulder. “It has been a pleasure to serve with you. The republic owes you its birth.” Walid turned to the audience. “Three cheers for Colonel Alqahiray.”
Walid whispered in the colonel’s ear, “Go with Allah, sir.”
The security guards carried the wounded colonel out of the room to enthusiastic cheers led by Colonel Walid.
“Samir, call me when you arrive at the villa,” said Walid. “I will call Mintab and tell him that event alpha has been accepted. This afternoon we will release the first of the press releases attributed to Colonel Alqahiray. Little does he know how famous we intend to make him.”
Then Walid added as Samir reached the door, “Samir, be careful. He is still dangerous, but don’t do anything foolish. Okay? He is more valuable alive right now.”
Samir nodded as he departed, hurrying to catch up with the security force he had personally selected.
“So, general xing, what do you think?” dao asked as the operator muted the sound on the screen. The crowd on the floor of the United Nations milled about in discussion.
“I think, Mr. Chairman, that Ambassador Mintab said the right words to appease the West and encourage the East. Whether he meant them remains to be seen.”
“You are right, General. Words are what the West want. Seldom do they weigh the actions that back them. But what do we care as long as the Arabs remember who supported them in their genesis endeavor. The People’s Republic is the first to recognize the new power in the Mediterranean. They will remember that, and we will ensure that they do. With this new power, our influence will wield an economic might that the world has not seen since the Ming Dynasty.”
Dao’s wrinkled face broke into a thin smile. “Sixty-five percent of America’s trade is with Europe, the majority of which goes through the Mediterranean. But America fails to learn from history. Unlike us, in the East, who study and learn from the ways of our ancestors.” He laughed. “You know what will happen? America will divert even more of its trade to us.”
The laughter turned to coughs and the coughs to a racking fit. His lips turned blue from the exertion before the attack eased and his breath returned to normal. No one moved to help him.
Several minutes passed before he continued. “The Islamic Republic possesses more economic potential than any two countries in the Western alliances, with the exception of the United States and Germany. Of course, it will be the Islamic Republic’s challenge to develop that potential. We will benefit while this happens, and we will be careful that they do not turn and bite their masters.” He pensively tapped his lips with his forefinger. “No, we must ensure that this new potential is never directed against the People’s Republic.