Free Invasion by Dc Alden Page A

was also a learned scholar and Holy Man. He didn’t soil his hands with the grubby business of politics on the world stage. His only concern was for the Islamic state and the future of its peoples. Everything else was unimportant.
    As Cooper travelled around Cairo, he saw the Grand Mufti’s image everywhere. His face adorned posters plastered on roadside hoardings, was lovingly painted in glorious colour on the sides of buildings, or found in cheap picture frames behind shop-keepers’ heads. The slight, bespectacled Khathami, head held high in profile, looking bravely into the future, or maybe gazing benignly downwards, head tilted and hands clasped together in divine compassion.
    However, since his rise to power, he’d rarely been seen in person. The man was an enigma, a mystery, the key to Cooper’s future. As Trade Secretary he travelled to Cairo often, officially on government business, but unofficially to ingratiate himself with the Arabians, to become their friend. It was during his fifth trip to the region that Cooper realised his growing importance to the powers that be.
    At a multi-national conference in the port city of Alexandria, he’d given a speech outlining the importance of Arabia, its spreading influence across the globe and the desire of western governments, particularly Britain, to extend the hand of friendship towards the Islamic state. His Arabian hosts had responded well and Cooper was invited to extend his stay in Arabia, a guest at the palace resort of Sharm El Sheikh, where a banquet was to be held for important friends of Arabia. Cooper was over the moon. Finally!
    In a carefully-worded call to Harry in London, Cooper had dismissed the invitation to the desert resort as a possible stunt, but felt that a refusal may offend. Harry had agreed and Cooper could barely conceal the excitement in his voice. He was whisked by limousine to Cairo airport, where he boarded an executive helicopter, along with his secretary and personal aide. Despite his protestations, Cooper’s bodyguard was ordered to stay behind at the embassy by Cooper himself. Couldn’t have a potential snitch in the group, reporting back every little conversation to Harry. Besides, the Arabians had guaranteed his security and Cooper had simply glowed with self-importance.
    The helicopter travelled southeast under the hot sun. Their destination was paradise, or so the rumours went, located a few miles inland from the old tourist hotels and dive beaches of Sharm El Sheikh, where the Gulf of Suez emptied into the Red Sea. But the tourists had long gone, the coastal hotels demolished, the ground bulldozed and returned to nature. In the rebuilt harbour, erstwhile tourist dive boats once again trawled the warm waters for fish.
    Looking beyond the pilot’s windshield, Cooper’s heart beat a little faster as he caught a glimpse of the huge oasis up ahead. The helicopter landed a few moments later, settling onto a raised helipad above the trees. As the rotors wound down, Cooper and his party were escorted by a small welcoming committee into an elevator that took them down to the oasis floor, where they boarded a large electric buggy.
    The British party were very excited, none more so than Cooper. So, this was where the favoured friends of Arabia were taken, he mused happily as the buggy hummed along, snaking asphalt paths beneath the trees. It was beautiful, and Cooper watched with delight as colourful birds flitted between the palms, diving and swooping around the cool waters of gurgling streams and deep rock pools. Cooper had met one or two European diplomats who’d been here before, but he was the first Briton. In the past, he’d had to sit and listen with gritted teeth as the Italian and German Ambassadors had both waxed lyrical about their own visits and expressed mock sympathy at Cooper’s continued exclusion. Cooper had been quietly furious and he burned with envy, but now the boot was on the other foot. While his European comrades