‘I want your options for attacks on both those countries. If the President of Iran thinks he can develop nuclear weapons to wipe Israel off the map he’s got another think coming. Those plans are to include options for ground invasion. In the meantime, I want another nuclear carrier group deployed into the Gulf.’
Bolton was making sure his defiant military message could not possibly be misread.
CHAPTER 79
I n the face of the West’s intransigence and China’s silence on human rights, Kadeer had reluctantly ordered al-Falid to execute the plans for the second rotation of the alpha within seven days.
Like the London bombers of 7/7 who had met at Luton station before taking a train to Kings Cross and then separating to detonate their rucksack bombs, Kadeer’s cell in London were all ‘home grown’. All of the members of this cell were second generation Britons; graduates of some of the best universities in the country, including one from Oxford who had a blue for cricket. The only common denominator was their faith. All of them were Muslims angry at the treatment they were getting in their own country, and angry at the lies the British government had told them about the invasion of Iraq.
The first words of the plans that Thames Water had thoughtfully provided on the internet for all their consumers read: ‘The Thames Water Ring Main is one of London’s best kept secrets’. The irony had not been lost on Kadeer’s men, each of them prepared to die for their spiritual leader as part of the new Jihad sweeping Europe. The Thames Water map showed the precise detail of the 83-kilometre tunnel that had been built under London. It gave the locations of the advanced water treatment works like those at Ashford Common, Walton and Hampton, and it detailed exactly where all the pump-out shafts were in places like Holland Park, Battersea and Brixton. Thames Water had provided a free CD that the members of the Leeds cell had watched many times. They had one of their own working in the advanced water treatment plant at Hampton. They were ready to strike.
The cell leader, Mahmood al-Masri, and his cell were ecstatic. They had watched Dr Kadeer’s video and were in admiration of the man who could devastate a city like Sydney and bring down the most famous 747 in the world. The might of Islam was on the rise and the timing was perfect. In a week’s time, London would play host to a rock music festival that had been organised as a peace rally dubbed ‘Peace Rocks’. Some of the world’s most famous international bands had given their support and Trafalgar Square would be packed. Before the barriers and magnetometers went up, a thousand pellets of the glowing blue caesium chloride would be dissolved into each of the famous fountains. The flashing lights playing on the stage would be joined by an iridescence of a far more deadly variety.
Mahmood also planned to introduce 2000 pellets into two of the water treatment works and the final 4000 pellets would be exploded in three backpacks. The smallest would be detonated as close to the Chinese Embassy in Portland Place as possible. Mahmood had reconnoitred the area thoroughly and the Embassy was in the centre of London near Regents Park, not far from the BBC Headquarters in Broadcasting House and one of the infidels’ most famous churches, Nash’s All Souls. The location was perfect. Mahmood planned for a second backpack to be detonated in one of London’s other famous parks. The final decision as to which one would depend on the prevailing wind but, because of its size and central location, Mahmood was leaning towards Hyde Park. The final backpack would be exploded on the roof of a building in the financial district. The eight rusted teletherapy heads were still under the bed in the spare room of the cell leader’s nondescript tenement house in Leeds. Each member of the cell knew they would die once the heads were dismantled, but they were looking forward to their next life when they could join their great Prophet. A life free from persecution in their own country where Muslims were reviled and a life free from having to watch the news every night and witness the slaughter of their brothers and sisters at the hands of the West in places like Iraq and Lebanon. Together the cell members placed their prayer mats on the floor of the cell leader’s lounge room, and faced towards Mecca.
‘ Allahu Akbar. God is Great,’ the cell leader intoned, as he began to lead them in prayer. Halfway across the world, two more of Kadeer’s cells were completing their preparations for similar attacks, one cell in one of the largest cities of the United States, another in a city belonging to one of the United States’ staunchest allies.
CHAPTER 80
‘T he second problem is China,’ President Bolton continued, glaring at his Secretary of State. Like everyone else in the room, the Secretary of State could sense he was on borrowed time and he held his tongue.
‘I want a threat analysis prepared immediately and that’s to include their likely influence in space as well. Space is absolutely vital to the defence of the United States and let there be no doubt, as long as I’m in the White House, we will control it. Any threat to our satellites will be dealt with first and we’ll ask questions later.’ Bolton looked around the room, daring anyone to disagree with him. China had already sent a shot across the bows of the United States’ space program, firing a 40-tonne KT-2 ballistic missile and destroying one of their own satellites 860 kilometres above Xichang, a major Chinese launching pad in the far south of the country. The ageing Feng Yun weather satellite was well past its use-by date, but that was not the point. China was looking very closely at the vulnerability of the satellites of the United States. Used for a myriad of top-secret tasking, the big US satellites were vital for GPS navigation in the military, guidance of smart bombs and for any surveillance the President and his military might order.
‘One of my predecessors had the wisdom to sign an order denying our adversaries the use of space,’ President Bolton declared. ‘We will continue to reserve our right to deny access to space to any country which even looks like being hostile, and that includes the Chinese.’
Not wishing to risk any publicity over his discussions with Richard Halliwell, the President met with him in the now-vacant Vice President’s residence at Number One Observatory Circle later that evening. The heavily guarded, turreted nineteenth century mansion in the grounds of the Naval Observatory in Washington DC overlooked Massachusetts Avenue.
‘Congratulations, Mr President,’ Richard Halliwell offered without sincerity as the two men settled on the couches in the cosy first-floor library. ‘I wish it were under happier circumstances.’
President Bolton took a sip of bourbon before he replied. ‘Are you planning to run, Richard,’ he asked bluntly.
Richard Halliwell smiled deprecatingly. ‘I haven’t decided, Mr President,’ he lied, ‘but if I do, rest assured, you’ll be the first to know.’
‘You’ll be wasting your time,’ Bolton warned, ‘so be it on your own head. More importantly, how are we doing with the Ebolapox research?’
‘I’m due to have another meeting with Dolinsky shortly but getting him onboard has been a masterstroke,’ Halliwell enthused, his coming battle with Bolton and the Republican nomination for the White House temporarily forgotten. ‘He’s confident he’s overcome the last of the technical difficulties with the cutting enzymes, and he’s produced several different combinations of DNA and RNA. Even more pertinent is his work on a vaccine. Several of the monkeys have now been immunised and I’ll let you know the results. If it’s successful we have the means to mass produce the vaccine very rapidly and make it available to our embassies around the globe, but I think we should ensure that our Olympic team and officials are vaccinated well before they leave. I’m still going to need to get the Ebolapox vials into Beijing and the only foolproof way will be through the black bag.’