The Great and Terrible by Chris Stewart

Author:Chris Stewart [Stewart, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2012-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The White House

Washington, D.C.

Major General Neil Brighton got the phone call while working at his desk. The White House operator buzzed his personal line. Her voice was low and professional, but Brighton could sense a slight strain.

“General Brighton,” she said when he picked up the phone, “I’ve got King Abdullah al-Rahman from Saudi Arabia on the line.”

Brighton almost gulped. “You’re kidding!” he said.

“No, General Brighton. He is demanding to speak with you.”

“Me! Are you certain?”

“Most certain, sir.”

“Has he said what he wants?”

“He has said nothing, sir.”

The general took a breath. “All right, get your voice recorders going. And call the NSA. Tell him who I’m talking to and get him in here.”

“Yes, General Brighton. Are you ready for the king now, sir?”

“No, no, not yet. Where is the president? Where is he right now?”

“The president’s caravan left the White House just a few moments ago. He’s on his way to the State Department to meet with the NATO ministers.”

The general’s heart skipped a beat. “Get him on the other line,” he commanded. “Tell him to stand by.” The general didn’t know why he had said it, there was no reason to, but something inside him was screaming. “And call the Secret Service,” he continued. “Tell them to stand by.”

The operator hesitated. “What exactly shall I tell them, sir?” she asked in an uncertain tone.

Brighton shook his head. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. “Okay, hold before you do that, let me talk with King Abdullah first. But get the National Security Advisor in here.”

“Yes, sir, I will. Now are you ready for the king?”

“Put him on,” Brighton answered.

The king’s voice came through the phone, gruff and proud. “General Brighton, you remember me, I hope,” the king of Saudi Arabia said.

“Of course, your Highness. My condolences regarding your father and your brother.” Brighton could not resist.

“Yes, thank you. You are gracious. Now, General, as you will soon see, time is of critical essence at this moment, and I must get immediately to the point. You know, I hope, that my brother held you in such high regard. I would even say that he loved you, certainly respected you, which is why I’m calling you now.”

The general only listened. “What can I do for you?” he replied. Undiplomatically, he didn’t try to hide the disdain that he felt.

“What time is it there, General Brighton?” the king replied sourly. He spoke English well enough that Brighton heard the bitterness in his voice.

Brighton hesitated while he looked at his watch. “Why do you ask, your Royal Highness?” He noted the time.

The king snorted, then said, “Isn’t it 4:45?”

“Yes,” the general answered.

“And I’m guessing that you have already asked to have your president put on the other line?”

“Yes,” Brighton answered.

“That is fine,” Abdullah said. “Now, I want you to tell him something for me. He has seven minutes. That is all. Seven minutes to live. I hope that is enough time, but it might not be. Still, I hope they are able to evacuate him in time, for I want him to see the death and destruction that he has caused.

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