70
The King’s Palace
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
It was a simple task, really. The device had been placed in the king’s bedchambers the previous evening, while Faisal was meeting with Natal and the crown prince.
The man had allowed a small crew to enter the palace grounds. They’d secured it safely in the king’s chambers and then left quickly.
The al Qaeda operative had been on the king’s cleaning staff for the past two years. He’d scrubbed toilets, washed floors, and gathered up soiled clothes for months, waiting for this day to arrive.
He had no special knowledge of the device. But that wasn’t required. It had all been assembled for him. All he was required to do was activate it at the proper moment.
He was more than willing to play his part in changing the future course of events in the world. He knew that his family would be honored for the part he was about to play, and he was glad for that.
The device was powerful enough that no one could possibly survive it. At least, that was what he’d been told. The blast radius for the portable nuclear device—which contained pieces freshly exported from North Korea, recently delivered to Iran, and later carried to the king’s palace by carefully selected couriers—was sufficient that it would kill the king, his immediate family, and everyone else on two floors of the king’s palace.
It would, in one effort, take out much of the Saudi royal family. Only those who were fortunate enough to be somewhere else—not in the king’s palace—would survive the blast.
The man said his final prayers and began to make his afternoon cleaning rounds. The elderly king always took a late afternoon nap. The al Qaeda operative who’d managed to infiltrate the cleaning staff waited nearly fifteen minutes to make sure the king was settled in his chambers.
He knocked on the door. Hearing no answer from within, he entered. The king was sleeping peacefully at the far corner of the room.
The man walked over to the closet and opened it calmly. He’d been instructed not to set a remote timer. Instead, he was told to activate it directly and wait to make certain that it fulfilled its mission.
The portable device was small and innocuous. It looked like a suitcase, a piece of luggage. He spread the suitcase on the ground and opened the two latches.
Everything was in place. He followed the instructions he’d been given. He heard several clicks. A machine of some sort came to life.
The man sat down and waited. He wasn’t entirely sure when it would go off. But he’d made his peace with God. He was ready.
An instant later, the nuclear suitcase detonated, vaporizing the man sitting calmly next to the suitcase. The king’s chamber—as well as the floors above and below it—was turned to rubble upon impact. The king died immediately, in his sleep.