"When will our troops reach the scene?"
Far away across the ocean, in a classified conference room in the Pentagon, the blond-haired president demanded an answer from a general beside him.
"They still need some time, but the attack helicopters have already gone ahead. However..."
The general frowned, glanced at the satellite image of the eye of the storm, and said with a troubled expression:
"Even if they reach the scene, forcing their way through a sandstorm like this will be difficult."
The president choked on his words, then waved a hand grandly.
"In any case, deploy the troops from the nearest military base first! We can't move slower than France!"
The president had already received intelligence that the French peacekeeping forces stationed in North Africa were on the move, massing on a large scale.
Moreover, the French ambassador had called, and even the presidential hotline from the Élysée Palace had rung, bluntly demanding to know whether the American side was involved in the attack on the armored convoy protecting Saint Jeanne.
Although both were American allies, the troublemaker France was nowhere near as obedient as Britain. Britain had already resigned itself to submission and followed the United States' lead in everything. They were all Anglo-Saxons in the Five Eyes anyway, so at least they could still get a share of the scraps.
Naturally, the Americans lied through their teeth, adamantly insisting they knew nothing.
If France insisted on an explanation, the CIA could put forward a terrorist organization to claim responsibility.
Although the diplomatic trouble had been brushed aside for the moment, they would next have to contend with France, which enjoyed the home-field advantage.
Africa was not their backyard in the Americas, after all, and was somewhat beyond their reach.
But The Mummy Returns incident in Derna City