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James Tully’s last moments.
He saw the grenades leave the assassin’s grasp as the man was tackled to the ground. The tiny spheres- smaller than it seemed they should be, he’d always thought, for such a powerful device- came towards them in their wobbly trajectories as if in slow motion. One glanced off the upturned bayonet of one of the ceremonial guards, still at attention. It careened skyward, arcing above and catching his eye. He was staring at it when it exploded, driving him in an unfamiliar direction, his inner equilibrium thrown off.
He felt the wave of force from a second explosion and he careened again, coming to rest on top of another body. This second grenade, he could tell in the clinical way of a man whose brain has already begun to shut out the pain, had done some real damage.
He’d never know it, but the second grenade blew him directly on top of the president. He barely registered the additional thumps of the bullets as they entered his back and legs and he began to lose consciousness.
----
+35 minutes
The Nile Hilton Hotel, Cairo
The heavily armed soldiers proceed through the lobby at the double. The Egyptians in the room back quickly into the walls, pretending to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. The foreigners gape, many freezing in their tracks until the officer in charge of the patrol shouts for them to clear a path. A bellhop sneaks behind the concierge’s desk to share his hiding place.
“Shit. What’s going on? Another coup?”
“I don’t know. Do you hear all those sirens? I don’t remember many sirens the last time they tried.”
“That’s right. What does it mean? The police are with them this time?”
“Or it’s something else. Wait a minute, quiet.”
The officer in charge has stopped at the front desk and begins speaking rapidly to the manager. The manager points in the direction of the large conference room and the officer breaks his command in two. Most of the soldiers follow him, the rest remain in the lobby, looking alert.
“Did you hear what he asked for?”
“He asked for someone. I didn’t catch the name. But there’s a legal conference in the ballroom.”
“What kind of a coup cares about lawyers?”
The doorman scuttles into the hotel, hands in the air as one of the excited soldiers swivels in his direction. But his uniform makes his presence clear and the encounter lasts barely a second. He makes his way to the concierge desk.
“Did you hear?”
“What’s going on?”
“They’ve killed the president.”
“Oh my god!”
“What!”
“It’s true, it’s spreading through the streets.”
“My god, my god!”
“So it is a coup?”
“Maybe. Look, here they come again.”
The soldiers return to the lobby walking fast, practically shoving a portly middle-aged man wearing thick black glasses. The employees catch a few words as they pass by.
“-So you don’t know if he’s dead?”
“I can’t speculate, Mr. Taleb, but procedure dictates that we get you to the National Assembly right away.”
“What about Mubarak?”
“I don’t know sir but my superiors informed me you were next in line. You’re to be sworn in immedia-”
They pass through the hotel doors and all is quiet again. In some ways, it’s the last quiet Cairo will see in some time.
----
+2 hours
Cairo barracks. Leave has been canceled. Units are mustering. Two young lieutenants pass in the halls, one just getting on duty, one who’s already been in one firefight today.
“Sadat?”
“No word. At the hospital, but I wouldn’t hold out hope.”
“You saw him?”
“From a distance. It was bad.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“Mubarak, I suppose.”
“No. Him I’ve already heard about from my captain. The second grenade went off right by him. Died instantly.”
"Shit. Do we know who?"
"No one is saying. Probably military, but it doesn't matter. Everyone's taking advantage and there's rioting now."
“This is trouble.”
“We’ll be alright. This is just like June; we stick to the chain of command. It’s the safest path.”
----
+8 hours
The Egyptian Gazette
Headline: SADAT LIVES!
Subhead 1: Assassination Attempt Claims Life of Vice President, 11 others