Waleed could see Bilal’s relief at his answer. “I don’t know, but when in doubt, I say look to the facts. The facts are that Al-Nahda has used all three of its nuclear weapons, and the result is that the Saudis are weakened, with casualties that are at worst in the hundreds.”
Waleed nodded doubtfully. "And what about the mysterious force that is supposed to join our tanks in attacking Riyadh?”
Bilal shrugged. “That’s a little more clear. My contact says it's an Iranian armored force that until recently was deployed in Syria, and turned south on its way home. He claims that they have already destroyed a Saudi armored patrol from King Khalid Military City, and shot down several Saudi planes attempting to attack it.”
Waleed frowned. “Shot them down? With what?”
Bilal smiled. “Now there is more than their word to go on. They used two S-300s armed with hypersonic missiles.”
Waleed just stared at Bilal. “And why should we believe them?”
Bilal’s smile grew wider. “Because two S-300s, hypersonic missiles and their crews have arrived on a ship in our harbor. I saw them myself just before I came here. I ordered them unloaded, because whatever you decide I think we’ll need them.”
Waleed nodded. “Agreed. So, the armored force is Iranian. The S-300s weren’t put on a ship by terrorists. Is this, then, an Iranian invasion?”
Bilal shook his head. “I don’t think so. If this was an all-out attack by Iran, they have ballistic missiles and aircraft that we could expect to see join the attack. I think Al-Nadha has the support of a faction of the Iranian government. Or ‘Al-Nadha’ is a cover name for that faction. Either way, the question is the same. Join them, or watch and wait?”
Waleed said nothing, and looked out at the lights of Doha spread out below. Finally, he turned towards Bilal.
“Well, they certainly kept their promise to break the blockade. They’ve used three nuclear weapons, but avoided mass casualties. And now they’ve given us the means to protect our armor from air attack.”
Waleed paused. “I don’t think we’re going to get a better chance to end the blockade for good. Order our tanks to execute the planned attack on Riyadh, in coordination with the Iranian force.”
Bilal nodded. “How many tanks do you want to send?”
Waleed shrugged. “All two hundred, brother. If we fail, keeping a few back will do us no good. And commit all our air assets to protect them. The S-300s can’t do the job alone.”
Bilal smiled. “Agreed. I hope this will finally end the Saudis’ attempts to strangle us.”
Waleed nodded. “One way or another, I’m certain it will.”
Anatoly Grishkov returned to consciousness with his eyes still closed, and his head pounding. He next realized that he was sitting against something, which hard metal against his back told him was probably a vehicle.
Someone was standing in front of him.
With his eyes still closed, Grishkov slowly moved his right hand towards his holstered gun.
Grishkov would not have been surprised by either a blow or a bullet in response. Instead, he was more than a little surprised to hear a laugh.
Grishkov opened his eyes to see the smiling face of the Saudi guard force commander. Vasilyev had dealt with him, and Grishkov didn’t even know his name. When the man had refused to take them seriously, Grishkov had decided there was no point in learning it.
Then he saw the man was holding his gun. With relief, as his eyes regained their focus he saw the commander was in fact holding the gun towards him.
“I didn’t want you to shoot me out of reflex as soon as you came to,” the commander said.
Grishkov nodded as he holstered his pistol and slowly stood. A sensible precaution.
“Where is my colleague?” Grishkov asked.
Now the smile disappeared from the commander’s face. “One of my men saw him drive a truck off the end of that service pier,” he said, pointing towards the water.
The commander paused. “Did it contain the nuclear weapon your friend was telling me about?” he asked.
Grishkov nodded grimly. “Is there any sign of him or the truck?” he asked.
“No,” the commander said, shaking his head. “I have just had a report back from two men I sent to the end of the pier. They said that if he hadn’t been seen driving the truck into the water, we’d have no way to know he did it.”
Grishkov scowled. “You will have men with the appropriate gear check more thoroughly?” he asked.
The commander nodded. “Yes. There is a naval base not far from here, and divers are already on their way. But I think you’ll be gone by then.”
As he looked around, Grishkov could see Saudi troops and armored personnel carriers securing the scene. Well, better late than never, he thought acidly.
”What do you mean, ‘gone by then’?” Grishkov asked with an even deeper scowl.
“I’m sorry, of course you don’t know. A helicopter is coming to take you to a Russian carrier off our coast. In fact, I think that’s it now,” the commander said, pointing at a rapidly growing dot in the sky.
Now Grishkov simply looked stubborn. “I’m not leaving without my friend.”
The commander nodded. “They said you’d probably say that. I am to relay to you that your superiors wish to keep the involvement of your country from becoming generally known. They also said to tell you that your friend would have approved of this.”
Grishkov could feel tears stinging his eyes, and savagely brushed them away. Damn Smyslov, he knew the only thing to say that would make me agree to leave without at least bringing back Vasilyev’s body.
The Saudi troops had cleared an area for the helicopter to land, which Grishkov could now see would happen within seconds.
The commander hesitated and then said, “I along with everyone else here have been ordered to never say more about today than we succeeded in repelling a terrorist attack.” Then he pointed at the horizon, where a mushroom cloud was still rising. “I and those of my men who survived the attack know that we will be going home to our families only because of your friend’s bravery. We know he was not of our faith. But we will always keep him in our prayers.”
Grishkov nodded, and shook the commander’s outstretched hand.
As Grishkov boarded the helicopter, he wondered whether these nuclear attacks were now finished, or if this was just the beginning.
Akmal Al-Ghars was nervous. It had been two days since he’d been handed the bombs, but he still hadn’t been told to plant them. There was little danger that the Saudi police would search his tiny apartment, but having the bombs a few meters from his bed had made it difficult for him to sleep.
A soft knock at the door made him jump. He had been about to leave for work, and as he went to the door, he hoped it would be word that the time had come to plant the bombs.
Akmal cracked the door open, and the man who had given him the bombs quickly slipped inside. He had never given Akmal his name, not that Akmal particularly wanted to know it.
“You must plant them today,” the man hissed in a low whisper.
“Remember the instructions. You must set them where we told you, the timers must be set to go off after an hour, and you must plant them in the order we told you. Tell me the color order,” the man said impatiently.
Akmal sighed. He might be a janitor, but he could read, and each bomb had a small but unmistakable piece of colored plastic next to the countdown clock. “Red, blue, and then green. I will not fail you.”
“Good,” the man said. “You will be met after you cross the border, and both you and your family will be rewarded.”