The vehicles of Masud’s attack force ground slowly forward, while the countdown clock appeared to Kazem to have somehow speeded up. Repeated checks of his watch reassured him that there was nothing wrong with the countdown clock, only with his relative perception of time’s passage.
Finally, just as Kazem was beginning to think they would never reach their goal, a brilliant flash followed by a thunderous explosion announced that the truck bomb had reached the gate. The surviving and still mobile vehicles that were not part of Masud’s attack force very quickly did their best to get out of the way, and Masud had already given orders to let them go. They were not the target.
From his position inside the truck bed next to the weapon Kazem could see little, but could hear the rapid fire of machine guns and the intermittent sound of pistol fire that seemed to go on for hours, though his watch insisted only minutes had passed. Then the gunfire began to slacken, and their truck moved past what Kazem could see were the smoking remains of the front gate. The desalination plant filled the front window, but Kazem still wanted to get closer in case of a fizzle.
Kazem was just about to tell Masud that they had to hurry because they were nearly out of time, when their truck was rocked by a burst of heavy machine fire coming from… behind them. He just had time to look out the back and see military vehicles flying the Saudi flag when he felt a heavy weight fling him to the truck bed, and the truck grind to a halt.
Kazem could hear the gunfire picking up again, but not for long. Every time he closed his eyes and opened them again the countdown clock display seemed to have jumped backwards. He realized this must be due to drifting in and out of consciousness.
He looked down and could see he’d been shot, but was surprised not to feel any pain. Shock, he supposed.
The gunfire stopped altogether, and the cloth flap on the back of the truck bed flew up. Kazem heard shouted commands, but was unable to move, in fact it was becoming harder to breathe. He could hear rather than see one of the soldiers jump onto the truck bed and then he came into view as he ran towards the countdown clock, just as it reached zero.
Nothing happened.
After several seconds, Kazem could hear the soldier laughing with relief.
Then he heard a “click” from inside the weapon’s casing, and smiled.
Through lips just barely capable of making a sound, Kazem whispered, “Boom.”
Chapter Seventeen
Anatoly Grishkov scowled as he looked over the defenses at the desalination plant’s entrance gate, a scowl that deepened as he saw Alexei Vasilyev smile in reaction.
“If you had any military experience you wouldn’t be smiling! Their preparations are totally inadequate, and these idiots won’t even let us use our own weapons! These are ordinary security guards who probably have no training to speak of, and if they have any guns heavier than pistols I have yet to see them. What part of ‘attack with a nuclear weapon’ did these people fail to understand?”
Now Vasilyev couldn’t hold back his laughter though, as he knew it would, it made Grishkov even angrier.
“First, my friend, it is true that we handed over our pistols as soon as we arrived.”
Now Vasilyev continued in a lower voice. “However, did it not occur to you that I might have withheld a few items in our cars?”
Grishkov frowned. “But they searched both of our cars…” His voice trailed off as he saw Vasilyev’s smile broaden.
“But they’re just ordinary security guards.”
Vasilyev nodded. “Exactly. And it cannot be such a surprise that ordinary security guards fail to take the threat more seriously. Only the commander is Saudi, and he does not believe the danger is real. The guard force is made up of poorly educated expatriates, mostly from Pakistan and the Philippines.
Once a determined attack begins, it is likely that many will throw down their guns and flee. I doubt they are being paid enough to feel obliged to risk their lives. Besides, if they’ve been treated the way most expatriates are here, I doubt they feel any loyalty to their employers.”
Grishkov shook his head. “And where are the Saudi military forces we were promised?”
Vasilyev shrugged. “I am sure they will appear at some point, but we must plan on their arrival being too late to matter. Remember, the nearest large military base here on the coast is naval, and they have little in the way of troops and equipment to assist us against a ground attack. Army bases in the region have had their resources diverted to the war in Yemen, particularly after the recent increase in missile attacks against Riyadh. So, we need to prepare as best we can with what we have.”
Grishkov nodded glumly. “Very well. And what is that, exactly?”
Vasilyev smiled. “We were directed to park our cars behind the main building ‘to keep them out of the way.’ Fortunately, with nearly all of the security forces clustered around the front gate, it also means the cars are out of view. While we walk back to them, please give me your tactical assessment.”
Grishkov shook his head grimly as they began to walk from the gate to their cars. “Since most of the guard force is at the front gate, the most likely course of attack will kill almost all of them. That is a truck bomb that will detonate as soon as it reaches the gate.”
Vasilyev frowned. “On my previous visits I saw that all of the government ministries in Riyadh had serpentine entrances preventing a vehicle from building up speed on approach. They also had pneumatic bollards raised and lowered from the guard post that physically prevented the approach of an unauthorized vehicle. I saw no such measures here.”
Grishkov shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Of course the government spares no expense at taking care of itself, and to be fair I’ve read that government ministries in Riyadh have already been attacked. I’m sure this was considered a much less likely target. Our biggest problem is that trucks are coming and going constantly.”
Vasilyev nodded. “Yes, I heard you suggesting to the guard commander that they close the gate to all traffic, and his refusal. “
Grishkov scowled. “The idiot says that the plant needs the supplies being brought by the trucks to operate. I wonder how well he thinks it will operate as a glowing pile of radioactive ash?”
Vasilyev grinned. “I agree that the plant’s efficiency will doubtless be impaired. So, how do we distinguish the truck bomb from an ordinary truck?”
Grishkov shrugged. “If a truck comes barreling up to the gate at high speed, that’s probably the truck bomb. However, they did have the sense to fence off both sides of the road leading to the gate. So, because there have been so many trucks coming to this plant since our arrival, unless there’s a lull in traffic I don’t see how one could make a high-speed approach.”
Vasilyev nodded. “So, we probably won’t know until the explosion.”
Grishkov simply shrugged again.
“Very well. What happens after the explosion?”
Grishkov frowned. “An experienced commander would have another truck filled with attackers following a respectful distance behind. He would also make sure that the truck bomb was carrying a shaped charge directing the force of the explosion forward. If he was smart, he would also have several cars following the attack truck with more fighters. Never good to put all your eggs in one basket. The truck with the nuclear weapon would follow those cars, since you obviously want it as far from the truck bomb as possible.”