Jihada: The Lost Scriptures Page 11
As the President read the note, he shook his head in disbelief before speaking. ‘Gentlemen, I have been informed that the British Government have just voted for the implementation of full Islamic Sharia law, to be applicable to every man, woman and child in the country with immediate effect. I can only assume that the whole country has gone completely fucking bonkers.
How could this have happened? They would have needed over 300 votes in parliament, and to my knowledge, there are only around 70 of the MP’s that are Muslim. There are less than 10 million Muslims in the country out of a population of 70 million, yet they have chosen to return to the Middle Ages; I am completely stunned’.
The President turned to Admiral Black, and with a wink said. ‘Do you think we should bomb the fuck out of them Admiral’?
The room burst into laughter; Admiral Black stood up, sprang to attention, smiled, and replied in a crisp military manner, ‘You give me the order sir, and I will carry it out’.
The Admiral was back on board the Presidential ship.
President Steinberg passed a series of envelopes to each man in the room as he spoke. ‘Gentlemen, would you kindly look at the photographs and give me your opinion on what caused this damage’.
Each man looked at the dozen or so photographs of the Great Mosque of Mecca that had been taken in high resolution from an American satellite. A confused look crossed their faces; this was ordnance damage that they were unable to recognize. Completely blown into a mangled pile of rubble was the Kaaba, the centre piece of the Great mosque, and the holiest of all Islamic shrines. From around the outer wall, some 20 or more of the minarets now lay in thousands of pieces, scattered amongst the dead bodies and parts of bodies. At the height of the Hajj, the Great Mosque was visited by upwards of 2 million pilgrims. Thousands of these pilgrims now lay dead or dying.
Air Marshal Cunningham was the first to speak. ‘Mr. President, I have spent over half of my life dealing with ordnance and ballistics and I swear that I have never seen anything quite like this before. By the simple process of elimination, we can forget about air born bombs as there is no crater damage, - we can also completely discount missile strikes as there is no penetration damage, - and as for bombs that have been planted and detonated, I would guess that damage of this magnitude would have require several thousand pounds of military grade explosives; as all the blast damage is inwards, upwards of 50 bombs or devices would have to have been planted on the outside walls, sitting there for all to see. Similarly the Kaaba damage; that would have required a massive explosive device being detonated at each of the 4 sides simultaneously. Not even the Muslims are stupid enough to allow such devices to go unnoticed; as you can see from the photographs taken 30 seconds before the blast, there is definitely no evidence of any such devices’.
‘What exactly does that leave then’? The President enquired, a frown crossing his forehead.
‘There is nothing else sir’. Cunningham replied, ‘I will stake my reputation on that’.
‘There is possibly one explanation Air Marshal’. Mario Molinari broke into the exchange.
Cunningham glared at Molinari; a disapproving look crossing his face ‘What the hell does a CIA Presidential lackey know about military matters and ordnance’? Was the message that it portrayed.
Molinari shrugged off and appeared to ignore the poisoned glare radiating from Cunningham and continued, at the same time doing his best to appease rather than antagonize him. ‘Air Marshal, would you say that possibly 50 or more individual bombs, all detonated at the same time could have caused this damage’?
‘It would have to be that, there is no other way. How could you possibly achieve it though Mario, every bomb would have to be directional, with the 50 blasts all at the same time, and pointing in the same direction towards the walls? There is no way that there were any bombs in place; the satellite shots taken before the blast can pick up a gnats bollocks, never mind a bomb’.
Cunningham had accepted the Olive branch; Molinari now dropped his bomb shell.
‘50 plus suicide bombers, each one loaded with upwards of 50 pounds of military grade explosive. At a given signal, they walk to the target, press their chests against the wall, and one of them presses the switch. If the detonators are all tuned in to the same frequency.—Wham Bam, thank you Mam, and you have sown the seeds of World War 3’.
‘Fucking Hell’, Admiral Black almost shouted, before apologizing to the President.
The President smiled at the Admiral before addressing him, ‘No problems there Admiral, you beat me to it: personally, being Tennessee born and breed, I cannot think of any more appropriate response. Marshal Cunningham;- your views please’?
Cunningham shook his head and pursed his lips before speaking. ‘It is certainly the only explanation that makes any sense at the moment sir, however, how the hell can you persuade 50 people to blow themselves up, and why on earth would they blow up their most sacred shrine’?
Everyone in the room turned to face Molinari.
Mario Molinari thought carefully about what he was going to say to them. There could be no mention of the Gods; military men only included one God in their calculations or job descriptions; their God went bang and ended lives: the more lives that he ended; the more their God was worshipped.
The whole dynamics of military thinking and strategy was about to change. Over the 200,000 years since mankind first evolved in Africa, the human race had progressed militarily and had invented more and better ways of killing each other. Initially there had been hand to hand human against human combat, and through the various stages of military weapon development,--a thrown rock-- a spear-- the bow and arrow-- the rifle-- the canon-- the bomb,--the nuclear missile; and now, finally, it had come full circle and gone back to the dawn of civilization. He alone, the human sacrifice, was once again the most effective weapon of choice.
Nothing else seemed to work. The most sophisticated weapons that the human race had ever created now exploded on takeoff or simply disappeared from the bowels of a ship.
Was warfare, as was known, now to become redundant? What about the rest of the American military hardware; did that still work, or could someone or something recreate the unlikely cruise missile scenario?
Computers now controlled almost every form of weapon. Had computers developed some kind of artificial intelligence that was now preventing the human race from killing each other?
Islam now had 3 billion potential weapons, and every one of them worked; none of Islam’s weapons were dependent on computers - self sacrifice was Islam’s weapon of choice – group self sacrifice simply added greater firepower to their arsenal.
CHAPTER 17
The Journey
The Embassy limo left the Cotswold cottage with the 5 passengers and the Embassy driver, and wound its way along the narrow, winding Cotswold roads before reaching the Fosse way, the near 2000 year old Roman road that dissected the peaceful countryside almost straight down the middle in a perfectly straight line. The Romans knew that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, and built their roads accordingly. From there, it was a comfortable one hour run to the motorway that would take them straight to the airport.
The roads were strangely quiet for the time of year, late July; normally there would be almost bumper to bumper traffic, with holiday makers and day trippers’ sight seeing some of Britain’s most beautiful and picturesque little villages and countryside. People stood huddled in little groups as they passed through each village. No one seemed to be doing any form of work; there were no tractors ploughing up and down the fertile Cotswold soil, no combine harvesters tearing up the ripened wheat and eating away at the recently fledged ground dwelling birds; everything and everyone seemed to be frozen in time. Children were the only ones seemingly unaffected by the malaise.
In one of the villages, the thatched roof of a chocolate box pretty cottage blazed; there was no fire engine. People stood around cheering. No one appeared to be concerned about the black
ened bodies of the two naked adults and the child that were lying alongside the burning cottage. The people continued cheering.
All of the men in the car had the same sense of foreboding; mutiny and rebellion was in the air; it was tangible; they could feel it; almost touch it. Maybe the JIHADA had made his move too soon – maybe he had chosen the wrong move – the wrong country even. Britain had had enough of creeping Islamism. The British people wanted their country back. Sharia law was maybe the straw that was about to break the camel’s back.
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Fifty bearded men and Burka clad women pressed themselves against the walls of Westminster Abbey and yelled Allahu Akbar three times. One man threw the switch, and 50 Muslims made the short journey to Paradise. The walls of the old Abbey crumbled. The roof came down on the worshippers.
Ambulances and fire engines arriving at the scene were attacked by gangs of bearded Muslim youths armed with axes and machetes. Their drivers, paramedics, and firemen were dragged from their vehicles and beheaded by the youths screaming Allahu Akbar as they hacked away at the still live bodies. Policemen were kept at bay by gunshot aimed directly into their ranks. - Only selected British police were trained to carry firearms.
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A massive explosion brought down the walls and roof of the East London mosque, the largest in Europe, onto 7000 Muslim worshippers.
Gangs of white youths hurled lighted petrol bombs into the confused and blinded survivors as they stumbled out. Screams of agony mingled with shouts of ‘Fuck Sharia – Fuck all Muslims’. Both the police and ambulance men stood by and prevented anyone from giving assistance to the few survivors; now was finally the time to stand up for Britain against the damned bearded foreigners who were ruining their country and poisoning their racial purity with their dirty Muslim practices.
Was this racial bigotry or were the indigenous people simply taking back what was rightfully their birthright?
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The sky was heavy with smoke as the Embassy limo turned off the motorway and made the five minute run to the airport entrance. A tank stood ready by the side of the road, it’s long barrel pointing down towards the motorway at the line of oncoming traffic; a dozen or so young soldiers nervously looked around and chain smoked cigarettes as they tightly clung onto their rifles, relaxing their grip only to light another cigarette; their whole demeanor indicated they were expecting to come under attack at any time.
Theodore and his two CIA bodyguards showed their American ID’s, and the driver flashed his diplomatic pass to the young Lieutenant who appeared to be in charge.
The young Lieutenant saluted as he spoke. ‘I would certainly love to be on that plane with you today sir’, he said addressing Theodore, ‘I am afraid that this country seems to have reached the point of no return. Most of the cities in England are now on fire, and we are rapidly approaching a major Civil War situation. We can’t even trust our own soldiers; thousands of them have joined the Muslims, and are now turning our own weapons against us.
They seem to have commandeered most of the ammunition and distributed it among themselves sir. Half of my troops that you can see here are carrying no live rounds at all, only blanks. Even the tank’s steering system is inoperable: it is as if someone has taken out all the electronics including the damned radio. I am unable to send any messages to, or receive any messages from command. God knows when or even if we are to be relieved or re-enforced. What am I supposed to do if another troop suddenly appears; how will I know which side they are on if I cannot contact anyone’?
As the officer was speaking, a military jet appeared from the direction of the motorway, the after burners throwing out a bright orange sheet of burning fuel and gasses, flying so low over the Embassy car that the men could clearly see the pilot. The noise was so thunderously deafening that the men in the car clasped their hands over their ears fearful of burst ear drums as the sonic boom hit them. The soldiers dived to the ground as if pole axed; the young Lieutenant standing his ground in a brave show of leadership. A couple of seconds later, a missile flying even lower followed in hot pursuit, its murderous intent quite obvious.
‘I wish you the very best of luck Lieutenant’. Theodore looked sincere as he spoke, ‘I fear though that things are going to get very much worse before they improve. We had better be moving on now’.
The young Lieutenant sprang to attention on seeing Theodore’s moving lips, completely unaware of the words’ spoken; his eardrums still ringing and beginning to bleed from the shattering noise of the Jet’s engines and the sonic boom; he saluted as the limo drove towards the airport terminal. His terrified soldiers resumed their original positions and lit more cigarettes. Hundreds of car alarms had suddenly come alive on the airport car park.
In the distance, there was an explosion and a ball of flames as the missile found its target.
‘Poor guy’, one of Theodore’s bodyguard CIA men remarked. ‘ I hope that he managed to eject in time; this really is a first; usually the military are up against an enemy that dresses like and mingles with the locals; here however, they are up against men wearing the same uniform and probably from the same regiment as they are; what the fucking hell has gone wrong with the country’.
‘Years of planning Roger; Michael explained it all to us’, Theodore remarked, ‘these men have been in place for many years now, just waiting for the sign or signal to make their move. The JIHADA’S 16thbirthday was that sign; that is today, the day after Sharia law was passed by the British Parliament; that was certainly no coincidence’.
‘It is also my birthday’, Michael smiled as he spoke. ‘Everyone seems to have forgotten that’.
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The Limo drove slowly away as the 5 men entered the airport. The Embassy driver had family in London, and no order other than from the President of the United States himself would force him to leave them. He thought long and hard about the route that he would have to take; motorways, major towns and cities had to be avoided if what the young lieutenant had told them was correct. He plotted a cross country route, retracing his steps back through the Cotswolds, and if necessary, he would ditch the car on the outskirts of London. The safety of his family was now the only thing on his mind.
He passed Achmed’s lifeless body on his way home and paid little attention, he had already passed many bodies on the way.
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‘He is here’, Michael said softly as they walked through the airport entrance.
‘I can feel him also’. Theodore replied.
‘You said that I can do magic, so why can’t I feel him’? Michael and Theodore stopped walking and looked at McNaught as he spoke, before looking at each other questioningly.
‘What are you carrying in your bag Sir James that we are not carrying’? Theodore clapped his hands together.
‘The shield from the cottage’?
‘Exactly, and if you cannot feel him, he cannot feel you. There is one chink in his armor that we now know of. You are completely invisible to him; for all he knows, you are not with us’.
‘Does that mean that I can go home to my wife now’? Sir James laughed, ‘she is due back from holiday in a few days and will certainly be after more money, and when she---‘
McNaught stopped talking as a machine gun opened up 50 or so yards away, followed by the scream - “Allahu Akbar”
Then came the flash, followed almost simultaneously by the explosive shock wave. This was no ordinary suicide bomb, they usually consisted of a few pounds of Semtex and a few hundred ball bearings; this was more than a hundred times the size: the blast force would rip limbs from bodies over a hundred feet away; it would burst eardrums irreparably throughout the terminal; it would shatter every pain of glass in the entire terminal; casualties would be numbered in their thousands, not hundreds.
Time stood still, and once again, McNaught witnessed the magic; the airport went silent; bodies that a fraction of a second earlier were flying through the air, hovere
d motionless several feet above the ground, accompanied by an assortment of limbs and severed heads. Millions of glass shrapnel patiently awaited their turn to slice open everything and everyone in their path.
The 5 men continued walking through the eerie silence, out through the still intact door, that in a few seconds was to be blasted several hundred feet across the airport; they walked out toward the queue of planes waiting to take off. There was to be only one plane taking off from Birmingham airport on this day: little did the world know that the Presidential plane was to be the last plane to take off from Birmingham airport for a long - long time, if ever again.
The take off was both hair raising and fraught with danger as passenger planes circled overhead awaiting landing instructions from the dead air traffic controllers. A second suicide bomber had done Allah’s bidding well. Soon, the circling planes would be forced to land, some of them in fields, on traffic packed motorways, even in lakes, as the fuel ran out; many passengers would die this day.
Air force war planes piloted by Muslim fanatics accelerated the carnage by shooting down any plane that came within range of their guns or missiles. They in turn were pursued by other war planes and missiles. The skies over Britain became one gigantic computer game, played out with real weapons and real people.
From a height of 35,000 feet, the 5 men could observe and confirm what the young Lieutenant had told them. Fires raged out of control in most of Britain’s towns and cities. The British people had taken to the streets in angry protests at the imposition of Sharia law. To begin with, the protests had been relatively peaceful despite the anger; their mood had soon changed, as Muslims, equally angry at the destruction of their holiest of shrines, turned out in force to taunt and attack them.
Armed police appeared on the streets. Shots were fired, often into the white crowds by both white and brown faced Muslim police. White faced British police fired at the Muslim police. The military appeared. Only the Muslim soldiers appeared to have live ammunition, the rest were equipped with blanks that could only ever go bang. Non Muslim soldiers fixed ceremonial bayonets and charged, often being mowed down by withering fire from the Muslims. Where ever possible, they took live weapons from dead Muslim soldiers and resumed battle, their well trained officers leading the line. The streets of Britain became a re-enactment of the First World War; mankind was indeed beginning to regress; the streets of Britain became “Rivers of Blood” as predicted by Enoch Powell, the by now almost saintly British politician, almost a century earlier.