COVID-25 (Book 1 - The End of All Reigns)

31 - Transatlantic Flight

Anxious to met his new Pharaoh but conscious of the fact that the lives of his wife and children probably depended on Nkosana’s ability to defeat an enemy that vastly outnumbered them both in troops and weapons. 

Fortunately, Patrick loved a right good battle.

Supported by twelve elite members of his squad, Patrick killed time at the Westair Ireland facilities. He had another group at the Doonbeg Golf Club where they had booked rooms for the night. 

The hotel, once owned by former President Trump, now belonged to a group of local investors. After he left office in 2020, the family organization fell on difficult times and ended up selling numerous properties. Trump's conviction for tax fraud and countless pending cases only exacerbated the decline.

Patrick reviewed the formation for the motorcade and checked in with the team leader at Doonbeg when the Westair representative informed him that the flight was on final approach. 

Patrick anticipated no problems but to help keep the visit off the radar, he arranged a private on-board customs clearance. He selected a parking area located as far from the terminal as possible. The security agents meeting the jet all carried large black umbrellas to shield the identities of the passengers. 

Ten minutes later, Patrick boarded the Gulfstream on the heels of the Customs agent who barely looked at the passports before stamping all twelve. The fact that the group arrived on a 65 million dollar jet, seemed bonafides enough. 

"Fáilte go hÉirinn," Patrick announced cheerfully, aware that only the Pharaoh would understand the greeting in Irish. 

"Great to be here," Nkosana responded followed by a royal embrace for his grandmother's most trusted warrior. 

They wasted little time on pleasantries and quickly deplaned into the waiting vehicles. 

Two hours later, Nkosana chaired a strategy session in a private meeting room in the hotel. 

"Did you have a chance to review the maritime assault plan?" Nkosana asked Patrick. 

"Took a gander this morning," he confirmed, "deadly!" 

Nkosana understood that he meant brilliant. 

"How do you feel about committing piracy on the high seas?" Jamal inquired. 

"My ancestors were Vikings," he replied, "piracy is in my DNA." 

It was difficult not to pick up on the quiet confidence of the soldier before them. 

"My big concern is how closely the Russians will be tracking the Adelaide," Patrick admitted. "By satellite at the very least and maybe even with destroyer or submarine support," he added. 

"One thing is to board a lightly armed cargo ship and another altogether to engage the Russian navy," Tony observed. 

"We can assume that they'd be reluctant to fire on the Adelaide because of the value of the cargo to their plan,"  Jamal stated. "The vaccine is no good to them at the bottom of the sea."

"The key will be to maintain radio and transponder silence for the shortest time necessary," Ethan commented. "Once the captain contacts them and assures them that all is well, they'd probably call off any response."

"My team will practice the maritime assault at sea after the Mathilda departs Oregon," Patrick assured them, "until we get it under ten minutes."

"With helicopter support," Tony said, "I calculate that radio blackout will be less than 30 minutes and the recovery of the marooned crew in under an hour."

"My assessment, my Lord," Patrick stated, "is that we have an 80% chance to pull off the switch successfully."

"What Popov will do when he discovers the switch is another story," he continued. "He is a right Dosser."

"Judging by the reaction to the raid in Moscow, we can expect brutal retribution," Nkosana opined. "I agree with Ethan that it would be best to move all personnel out of the Falcon Foundation headquarters until well after the operation."

"My team has already audited security at the Lord Vizier's compound in Dakar," Patrick informed them. "I am confident that it is secure for your arrival but before we attempt the operation at sea, I suggest we move the Pharaoh to a better location."

"Any ideas?" Ethan asked. 

"Timbuktu," Patrick suggested, "the archives of the Servants of Ma'at were built to withstand a nuclear blast. I believe it is the best location in case of an overwhelming attack."

"The added advantage is that in Timbuktu, you can communicate directly with Lord Thoth," Jamal told the Pharaoh. 

"What do you mean directly?" Nkosana inquired. 

"The Pharaoh’s papyrus," Jamal explained. "It allows you to send a text message straight to Lord Thoth."

"Santo Cielo," Tony exclaimed. 

"Exactly, kinda like Whatsapp to heaven," Jamal affirmed

"Straight to God?" Zac asked. 

"Yep, to all of them." 

"Ask them for the winning numbers for the next Powerball drawing," Zac requested. 

"Can we get there by jet?" Nkosana wanted to know. 

"Yes, my Lord, but not the Gulfstream," Patrick responded, "the runway is too short. We'll need a smaller plane."

"Jamal, can you get one to Dakar with two complete crews for 24/7 readiness," Nkosana ordered. 

"Of course, my Lord." 

"So just to review," Nkosana continued, "we'll coordinate the operation out of Dakar. Once the Matilda reaches the South China sea, me and a small group will fly to Mali."

"Patrick, you need to get to the United States as soon as possible," Jamal insisted. 

"I'm booked on a commercial flight tomorrow morning to San Francisco," Patrick commented. "The boys will meet me over there in a few days with all our toys."

"The rest of you need to get some sleep," Nkosana ordered. "Tomorrow we are the guests of my Vizier."

As they left the meeting room, they all noticed a photo of Trump taken during a visit to the property as President. 

"Not the full shilling, that one," Patrick commented wryly 

No translation required.