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.He peered through the scope, checking each vehicle in turn; their target sat in the second one, his head barely moving.His lips were twitching nervously, as if he were praying – or perhaps composing excuses.Fareed shrugged inwardly.Who cared?He sighted carefully and squeezed the trigger.He smirked as the bullet hit the window, giving Colonel Abdul Al-Sultan a fraction of a second to look up before the American round – obtaining Russian bullets was too much trouble – went through his head.Fareed was already moving, followed rapidly by his spotter.The defenders of Mecca would be after them as soon as they worked out where the shot had come from and if they weren't gone by then, they would be killed – if they were lucky.“Good shot, dude,” Khan said, as they threw themselves down the rubbish chute.Chief Warrant Officer Fareed Ackbar, a twenty-five year veteran of the US Marine Corps, grinned.All his life, his father had dreamed of recovering Mecca from the infidels who held it, a dream that had eventually gotten him killed by the Egyptian Regime.He would never have approved of the Corps, but perhaps he would be pleased, wherever he was, to see his son finally realising his dream.“Yeah,” he agreed, as they slipped away into the shadows.“A good shot.”Chapter Forty-ThreeThe core lesson of Islam – indeed, the only important one – is that Allah exists and there is judgement.It seems to be easy to forget that amidst all the minutia.- Chief Warrant Officer Fareed AckbarMecca, Saudi ArabiaDay 50From their new vantage point, Fareed and his spotter watched as heads turned towards the sky.The defenders knew that the RSAF no longer existed in any meaningful form, apart perhaps from a handful of aircraft that had been reserved for suicide missions.The aircraft droning their way towards Mecca had to belong to the forces surrounding the city and cutting off all lines of retreat.Not that many of the defenders actually wanted to retreat; they’d sworn to defend the Holy City and, urged on by clerics, was what they intended to do.The snipers had watched as countless young men had injected themselves with a cocktail of drugs, providing inhuman strength and endurance for the coming fight.In the long term, the drugs would almost certainly kill them, but it hardly mattered.None of them intended to survive the coming battle.He gritted his teeth as he caught sight of a bearded man extolling the virtues of martyrdom and had to hold back the urge to pull the trigger and blow him into the next world, where he was sure Allah would not give him a warm welcome.His audience listened and shouted their approval, finally prepared to die for the one thing that gave their lives meaning.They – and their female counterparts – were the true victims of the Middle East, young men and women with nothing, not even hope, in their lives.They were fit only to die for the cause and die they would, in their hundreds.They wouldn't be able to even comprehend the possibility of another way forward.They were a strange bunch, he realised; many were Saudis, but others were foreigners, even Europeans and perhaps a couple of Americans.They had all searched for meaning in their lives and had found it in the hands of a barbaric version of the true faith, one that would eventually devour itself.The Saudi Royal Family had, in order to save the Holy City from one group of radicals, made a devil’s bargain with another group of radicals.In exchange for support, they’d delivered the souls of their children into the hands of clerics, who’d started the long process of turning them into fanatics.The problem had been building up for a long time before 9/11 had introduced the world to a whole new fear.The planes droned over the city, their cargo hatches opening and leaflets dropping from them, heading down towards the ground.There were thousands upon thousands of leaflets, each one written in Arabic and English, warning the defenders of what was to come.The city was already surrounded and escape was cut off; soon, the Iraqi forces would begin their advance.The leaflets called upon the defenders to surrender, offering good treatment in exchange for preserving the Holy City, but Fareed would have been astonished if they had accepted the offer of surrender.The clerics who ruled Mecca had been willing to demolish artefacts and buildings that dated as far back as the Prophet Muhammad himself; they certainly wouldn’t object to remodelling Mecca a little, if it meant keeping it out of the hands of infidels.Even the Iraqi Sunnis, Muslims all, were infidels to them.In Fareed’s view, they saw the term ‘infidel’ as meaning simply ‘someone who isn't us.’He watched dispassionately as the clerics scrambled for the leaflets, ordering their men to collect them and take them for burning, rather than risk having the young men read them and start wondering if there was a better way.A handful of young men who picked up and started to read the letters were brutally beaten and taken away by the religious police, before they could start to contaminate their fellows.Fareed had seen many acts of barbarity over his years in the Marine Corps, yet there was something uniquely disgusting about the act of beating a boy for daring to look at a letter.If they had been secure in their faith, nothing – not even an offer of freedom and wealth – would have shaken them.It was the ultimate proof of their moral bankruptcy.They clung to life and power because they didn't dare face the Day of Judgement.The planes faded away into the distance, leaving the clerics organising their forces [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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