Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 (27 page)

The chief shifted uncomfortably in the front seat of the truck. As head of security, the princess and her family were completely his charge and he would happily give his life if it were ever required to save them. The truth was, if harm were to ever come to the princess, Prince Saud would have him killed anyway. Better to die with honor than to die in disgrace. And though he had always felt pressure, he felt it increasingly morew. The radicals in the kingdom had grown bolder and more vicious. Like a dog crazed with hunger, they smelled the sweet tang of blood.

The chief moved anxiously to the edge of his seat as the convoy passed through the main gate and onto the descending mountain road.

The road leading down the mountain was smooth and well kept, but it was also cut with deep switchbacks and very steep grades. There were few guardrails or retaining walls and the security chief knew the road was a dangerous place. From the compound at the top of the mountain the road descended more than six thousand feet, turning and dropping along sheer canyon walls. The terrain was rocky and steep and the trees gradually thinned out as the road descended until the landscape merged with the barren desert floor.

The convoy moved quickly, the drivers braking expertly at each curve in the road before accelerating again. The princess watched the road tensely, then pulled out a cell phone. She punched her husband’s private number and the call was relayed to a central switchboard in Ad Damman where a sophisticated GPS tracking system kept constant tabs on the location of the crown prince. The switchboard automatically transferred her call to the palace on the outskirts of Riyadh.

Prince Saud’s personal assistant answered the phone, his voice all business. “Yes, Princess Tala,” he said.

“Is Crown Prince Saud available?” the princess asked.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, Prince Saud is in a meeting.”

It never occurred to either the princess or Prince Saud’s assistant that he might offer to interrupt. One did not interrupt the prince. Not even his wife.

“Is he still with the American general?” Tala asked.

“Yes, Princess Tala.”

“General Brighton, as I recall?”

“I believe that is right.”

“Do you know how long he will be?”

The older man huffed. “No, Your Highness, I do not.” Princess or not, she was still a woman and the affairs of the heir to the kingdom were not her concern. “I will have him get in contact with you at the first opportunity,” Prince Saud’s assistant offered.

“Tell him we are leaving the mountain and will meet him in Riyadh.”

“I will tell him,” the man answered and the princess ended the call.

“Are we going to see father tonight?” her oldest son asked. Princess Tala nodded and all of her children smiled.

The limousine sped slowed for a particularly sharp curve in the road. The princess reached for the handhold over her window then felt her child kick, a strong thump against her abdomen, sturdy and swift. Placing her hand on her belly, she smiled. “Be still, my young prince,” she whispered. “We are almost there.”

* * *

The five assassins had concealed themselves in the brush on the uphill side of the road just before one of the last switchbacks. Behind them, on the other side of a crest in the mountain, their helicopter hovered, keeping out of view. The men were dressed in identical black uniforms, leather boots and thin gloves. The fingers had been cut out of the gloves to allow them to maneuver their weapons with precision and their faces were concealed behind black masks.

The team leader listened to the earpiece he had shoved in his ear. “Two minutes!” he hissed to his team. He glanced down the line. The men were expertly concealed, spread out twenty feet to his left and right. The gun-blue barrels of their Soviet-made weapons protruded from the brush.

The team leader listened again, then gave his final instructions. “Call ready,” he whispered into the microphone at his neck.

“Two’s ready,” the second sniper positioned to his right replied.

“Two, you’ve got the first truck in the convoy,” the team leader instructed. “Repeat to me your instructions. You have number one.”

“I do. Two has the lead truck.”

“The first vehicle has the .50-caliber machine guns and missiles. You’ve got to take it or this whole thing is off. Understand, Two? We’re depending on you!”

“Got that, colonel!” the other sniper replied.

“Three, you take the second vehicle, a black SUV,” the team leader continued. “The target is in the third car, a BMW limousine. Repeat that . . . target is in the third vehicle. Leave that car alone!” The lead assassin scoffed in his mind as he thought of the lone BMW limousine. No decoys or deceptions. Which car contained the princess was almost comically clear. Fool of security! He was worthy of death.

He glanced at the two men to his left. “Four and Five, you’ve got the last two vehicles in the convoy. It is just like we planned it.” He looked down the line. “Any questions?” he demanded.

His men remained silent and the team leader crouched lower in his hole then glanced down the line, checking their positions a final time. He saw the four barrels of the RPG-7 shoulder-launched missiles protruding from the brush and smiled. The RPG-7, a recoilless, shoulder-fired antitank weapon, was effective against fixed emplacements or moving targets. It has a five-hundred-meter range and could penetrate most conventional armor. Proven repeatedly in combat, RPG-7s had been successfully employed against armored vehicles, bunkers, and American helicopters.

Taking out these lightly armored vehicles would prove easy to do.

The sniper nodded with approval, then turned back to the road.

“All right then, my brothers,” he said into his microphone. “Prove yourselves worthy or die in the cause. That is the only choice you have now. You must not let me down.”

Twenty seconds passed. The convoy came into view. “Praise be to Allah,” one of the soldiers whispered and the team leader glared. This wasn’t about Allah! This had nothing to do with religion or faith in God. This was about power. And the kingdom. And the man they would have as their king!

* * *

The convoy was nearing the bottom of the mountain. There were two more sharp curves below them, then a straight line to the electronically controlled gate that blocked access to the road. The line of cars decelerated for a curve, the vehicles bunching together as they slowed.

Inside the limousine, Princess Tala laid her head back and closed her eyes. Her daughter was asleep now, the two boys playing an electronic game. The BMW bounced lightly as it hit some gravel then pulled into the sharp turn.

* * *

Stand fast!” the lead assassin whispered into his microphone, sensing the evil eagerness in the air. The vehicles were almost directly below them, not more than eighty feet away. “Two, are you ready?”

“Ready!” the second assassin replied.

“Ready . . . ready . . . NOW!” the team leader screamed.

The four RPG-7s fired in a hiss of white-hot smoke and flame. The missiles trailed forward, reaching their targets in a fraction of a second and the four vehicles exploded in bright orange and yellow flames. The lead truck rocked up on its front wheels, crushing its bumper against the asphalt then nearly rolled onto its back. The black SUV with the doctors simply disappeared, swallowed in a fireball of black smoke and orange flame. The other two vehicles exploded a hundredth of a second later. The heat was so intense it started melting the asphalt, the oil-based road catching fire and spewing black smoke. The second assassin reloaded quickly and fired again at the lead vehicle, which was instantly blown in two, secondary explosions bursting from its cargo bay and blasting the air.

The black BMW limousine screeched as the driver slammed on the brakes. The road forward was completely blocked by a fiery wall of melting steal and flame. The limousine didn’t move for a moment, the driver momentarily confused, then he threw the car into reverse, the tires screeching as he began to back up until he crashed into the hulk of the burning car behind it. The men in the limousine’s front seat jumped out with guns in both hands and tried their very best against evil desperate men. They failed valiantly.

Another explosion rocked the hot air as the gas tank in the last car burst into flames. A single soldier stumbled from the second automobile, his clothing on fire. He rolled in the dirt then fell still, his arms reaching out, his face slowly baring his teeth as his lips were burned off. Fire and thick smoke billowed from the burning vehicles, the flames curling around the shattered windows and half-open doors. A single soldier crawled from the largest truck, pulling himself on his belly toward the ditch. The lead assassin fired. The barrage of heavy machine gun fire nearly cut him in two.

The assassins had already picked up their other weapons and, with a machine-gun fire burst through the air, jumped from their hiding places and ran down the hill. Behind them they heard the dull
whop, whop, whop
as their evacuation helicopter crested the saddle in the mountain and swooped toward the rising smoke. The assassins reached the road in a matter of seconds and came to a quick stop. Charred bodies, burning tires, blackened pieces of metal and melted weapons were scattered everywhere. The air was heavy with the stench of burning flesh and fuel.

It was a perfect hit. Not a soldier was left living. It was all that they could ask.

The team leader turned to the black BMW, the only vehicle in the convoy that had not been destroyed. The royal family was in there. He started to move.

* * *

Crown Prince Saud put a hand on Brighton’s shoulder. The waterfall gushed around them, cooling the air with its mist. Then he heard hurried footsteps approach from behind a cluster of palm trees and looked over to see his personal aide running toward them. “Your Majesty!” the servant was crying as he ran.

The prince took a step toward him. The servant came to a stop and bowed quickly, touching his forehead with his fingers. “Your Majesty!” he repeated as he lifted his head. The prince saw the panic in his eyes and his heart slammed in his chest. The servant grabbed the prince and started pulling him up the path. Behind him, other palace guards began to race into view. “Your Highness, come quickly!” the servant hissed.

“What is it?” Saud demanded.

The servant’s eyes bulged. “A Firefall!” he whispered.

Prince Saud’s knees grew weak. He knew the code.
Firefall!
An assault upon his family. “When?” the prince demanded.

Several bodyguards appeared from out of nowhere and started pushing him up the trail, pressing close, protecting him from all sides. Prince Saud reached out to the servant. “What is going on?” he cried.

“Princess Tala hit the panic button!” the servant told the prince. “That’s all that we know. Now, please, you must come with us, NOW!”

* * *

Princess Tala sat upright, her jaw tight in horror, her eyes wide and glaring in gut-wrenching fear. She reached under her seat and hit the panic button again. Her daughter was screaming in terror and the princess reached over and pushed her head toward the floor. Dropping to her knees, she fell onto the floor beside her. Peering over the seat, she looked out the front of the car and saw the bullet-shattered bodies of the men who swore to protect the princess and her children with their lives.

“Get down!” she screamed as she turned to her sons. The oldest one stared blankly past her, looking through the back window at the carnage behind, where a burning body hung out of the front windshield of the trailing car. Princess Tala smelled the smoke and felt the tremor of a smaller explosion behind them. She felt the car rolling backward then suddenly bump to a stop as the searing heat and smoke began to seep into the car.

The princess glared at her son, her eyes terrified. He reached for the door handle. “We’ve got to get out!” he cried.

“No!” Tala screamed as she slammed the locks on the rear doors. “Whatever is out there, they can’t get in! We must stay inside the vehicle. It is the safest place we can be!” She reached for her crying daughter and pulled her close, then thrust her fingers under her seat and hit the satellite-monitored alarm again. She heard the dull whoop of an approaching helicopter and almost cried in relief before realizing the helicopter could not be friendly. She pressed against the front window, desperate to see through the blood and gore, then heard voices and saw shadows approaching through the smoke to the side. She pushed her daughter down and lowered her head.

“Get on the floor!” she commanded her terrified sons.

The children dropped to the floor and Princess Tala positioned her body to protect them from the horror that was walking toward their car.

The horror stopped at the door, and rapped the bulletproof window with something metallic, then stepped back. Princess Tala raised her head and barely peered through the glass. She saw the walking horror pointing at something cradled in his arms.

Tala focused on what he cradled: a RPG-7 rocket tube. Her eyes traveled up the tube and saw it was loaded with a rocket-propelled grenade. The dawning realization and terror drained all rational thought from her brain, leaving her unfeeling and calm. “
Don’t you dare touch my children!
” she tried screaming but nothing came out.

The walking horror took a step toward her and pulled off his mask. Tala pulled a quick breath and her heart nearly burst.

No! It couldn’t be!

She looked into the dark eyes of one of her husband’s brothers!

He smiled at her, stepped back thirty big steps, waved at her, and shouldered the RPG-7.

“Please, Allah, save the kingdom!” were Princess Tala’s last words.

The rocket-propelled grenade did not miss.

* * *

The garden came alive with security forces and military police. Like ants from an anthill, they seemed to appear everywhere.

General Brighton took a step toward the prince, but a bodyguard pushed him back. The prince stared at him with glaring eyes. “It has started,” he whispered hoarsely as his bodyguards pulled him away.