Rogue Forces (32 page)

O
FFICE OF THE
P
RESIDENT
, T
HE
P
INK
P
ALACE
, A
NKARA
, R
EPUBLIC OF
T
URKEY

L
ATER THAT EVENING

“It’s the first encounter with an Iraqi military unit,” Minister of National Defense Hasan Cizek said as he entered President Kurzat Hirsiz’s office. “Report from Tall Kayf, north of Mosul. The brigade based at Nahla has reappeared and reoccupied their base.”

“Any contact with our forces?” Hirsiz asked.

“Yes, sir. A helicopter pilot and a crewmember were injured when his aircraft was shot down by an Iraqi man-portable air defense missile.”

Hirsiz waited, but that was all Cizek had to report. “That’s it? No other casualties? What about the Iraqis?”

“No casualties, sir.”

“What did they do, throw water balloons at each other? What do you mean, no casualties?”

“They didn’t fight, sir,” Cizek said. “Our unit let the Iraqis and the American engineers who were out at their reconnaissance plane back into Nahla Air Base.”

“They let them back in? The Americans, too? I ordered that plane dismantled and brought back to Turkey! The Americans were allowed back onto the base with parts from the plane?”

“The unit commander was going to stop them, but the armored commando and the robot threatened retaliation with their weapons and from an orbiting unmanned aircraft. Then the Iraqi brigade arrived. The unit commander saw he was outnumbered and decided not to engage. The Iraqis and Americans did not engage as well. They went into the base, and the security unit went back to their posts.”

The anger Hirsiz felt at having his orders ignored quickly subsided, and he nodded. “That was probably a good decision on the commander’s part,” he said. “Send a ‘well done’ to his parent unit.”

“Our unit there reports the Americans launched an unmanned combat aircraft to support their detail examining the plane,” Cizek said. “The American private security chief, McLanahan, explained it was a long-range loitering aircraft capable of releasing multiple types of precision and area munitions. It was apparently brought in on that Boeing 767 freighter that evaded our interceptors.”

“McLanahan. Yes,” Cizek said. “He is the wild card in all of this. Remember he commanded a very advanced bomber unit in the United States Air Force, and he was known for quite daring and successful operations—many of which were apparently done without official sanction, if we can believe the American media pundits. Now apparently he works for the Iraqis. I would guess if he says he has a cruise missile, he does, and probably more than one. The question is: As a tool of the Iraqis now, would he use it against us?”

“Hopefully we’ll never find out,” Cizek said. “I would have liked to get a look at that reconnaissance aircraft, though. The American secretary of state said our plane was disabled by a laser self-defense system, not a radiation weapon. That had to be a powerful laser. If we could get a peek at that system and cross-engineer it, we’d be decades ahead of most European and all of the Middle Eastern armies.”

“I agree,” Hirsiz said. “Have another try at bringing that plane back to Turkey. Fly as many troops as you can in tonight by helicopter. Send the entire First Division in if you have to. They don’t seem to be having any trouble in their area of responsibility; it’s the Kurdish regions that have me concerned, not the Arab ones.”

“But what about the Iraqi Nahla brigade?”

“Let’s see if they want to risk a fight over the American plane,” Hirsiz said. “I think they might think twice. We may have to deal with the American robot and armored commando, but how many of those things could they have? Let’s find out. I think the plane and its technology will be worth it.”

“We have more information about the robot and the armored commando; we won’t be as surprised as our smaller unit was, and
we’ll be on the lookout for their supposed unmanned attack plane,” Cizek said. An aide hurried in with a message and handed it to him. “I was able to get some details about the plane, the XC-57,” he said as he read. “It was in a next-generation bomber competition but was not selected, so it was converted into a…
lanet olsun
!” he swore.

“What?”

“Third Brigade shelled Irbil,” Cizek said, dumbfounded. Hirsiz did not react. “General Ozek, in personal charge of a mortar battalion, moved to the outskirts of Irbil less than a mile from the Kurdistan parliamentary building and started firing mortars into the city,” he went on. “He even fired shells into the Citadel, the ancient city center. For the targets he couldn’t reach with mortars, he called in an AC-130 gunship and destroyed numerous targets in the south of the city with heavy cannon fire from above!”

Instead of anger or surprise, Hirsiz smiled and sat back in his seat. “Well well, it seems our skeleton-faced berserker has made the decision to strike at Irbil for us,” he said.

“But how—” Cizek stopped, the concern spreading across his face. “The proposed target list the intelligence directorate drew up…?”

“I gave it to Ozek,” Hirsiz said. “He did exactly what I was hoping he’d do.” The look of concern on Cizek’s face turned into one of sheer disbelief. “The Security Council was undecided if we should escalate the conflict by attacking the capital of the Kurdistan Regional Government; Ozek has done it for us.”

“This is a serious matter, sir,” Cizek said. “Irbil is a city of a million people. Even with precision firepower—which mortars are definitely
not
—innocent civilians will get hurt. And the big howitzer on those AC-130 can destroy an entire building with one shot!”

“A few civilian casualties will only help us,” Hirsiz said. “This battle has been too easy, too sterile. The PKK and the Iraqi army run and hides, the
peshmerga
stay out of reach, the Americans lock the gates to their bases, and the Iraqi people turn on their televisions and watch us roll down their streets. It’s not a war, it’s a parade…
until now.” He then wore a worried expression. “Ozek didn’t hit any schools or hospitals, did he?”

Cizek called for a more precise list of targets struck and received them a few minutes later. “A Kurdish bank…a small shopping center…some shops inside the Citadel…a memorial park…one mortar even landed near the parliament building in a parking lot, close enough to break some windows—”

“That was on the list—the parking space of a pro-PKK politician,” Hirsiz said. “He followed the list to the letter. The Citadel hit…that was his idea, but he got the idea from that list. I’m sure the shop was owned by the same businessman that owned the other shops in the city on the list. Ozek is scary and a little crazy, but he’s a fast learner.”

“The Security Council was undecided on attacking Irbil because we wanted to see the reaction of the world first as the operation progressed,” Cizek said. “Up until now, the reaction has been very quiet…
remarkably
quiet. A few cries of outrage, mostly from militant Muslim groups and human rights organizations. It was tacit approval of what we are doing. But now we’ve attacked the Iraqi people, the Kurds, directly. You should have sought the approval of the Security Council before ordering this, Kurzat!”

“I didn’t order anything, Hasan,” Hirsiz said. The minister of national defense looked unconvinced. “Don’t believe me if you wish, but I did not order Ozek to shell Irbil. I gave him the list, that’s all. But I knew he would not disappoint.” He looked at his watch. “I suppose I should call Washington and explain things to them.”

“You’re going to tell them a rogue general did those attacks?”

“I’m going to tell them exactly what happened: we had discussed attacking businesses and organizations known to be friendly to the PKK, and one of our division commanders took it upon himself to do just that.” Hirsiz waved a hand at Cizek’s disbelieving expression and lit a cigarette. “Besides, you and the rest of the council have deniability now as well. If it doesn’t bring the Americans and the Iraqis around to helping us, you can blame it all on Ozek and me.” He turned serious once more. “Make sure Ozek pulls back to the air
port. If we give him too much encouragement, he’s likely to try to take the entire city.”

“Yes, sir,” Cizek said. “And we will get Second Division moving on that American aircraft.”

“Very good.” Hirsiz picked up a telephone. “I’ll call Gardner and set the stage with him, and let him vent about the attack on Irbil.”

C
OMMAND AND
C
ONTROL
C
ENTER
, A
LLIED
A
IR
B
ASE
N
AHLA
, I
RAQ

L
ATER THAT EVENING

“Just got off the phone with the president,” Vice President Ken Phoenix said as he entered the Tank. Colonel Jack Wilhelm was at his console in the front of the senior staff area, but beside him—in the real commander’s chair—was Colonel Yusuf Jaffar. The Tank was very crowded, because both an American and an Iraqi now manned every combat staff console in the room. Also in the room were Patrick McLanahan, Wayne Macomber, and Jon Masters. “He spoke with President Hirsiz of Turkey and President Rashid of Iraq.

“First of all, he wanted me to give you a ‘job well done’ for your actions today. He said that although he didn’t feel the risk was worth it, he commends all of you for exercising restraint and courage. It was an explosive situation and you handled it well.”

“I spoke with President Rashid as well,” Jaffar said, “and he wished me to pass along similar thoughts to all.”

“Thank you, Colonel. However, we still have a situation. Turkey wants access to the wreckage of the XC-57 to gather evidence for a criminal trial against Scion Aviation International. They are asking permission for experts to examine the aircraft, including the stuff you removed from the plane, Dr. Masters.”

“That stuff is classified and proprietary, Mr. Vice President,” Jon said. “Letting the Turks examine it gives them a chance to reverse-engineer it. That’s the reason we risked our lives yanking that stuff out of there! They don’t care about a trial—they just want my technology. No way I’m letting the Turks get their grubby paws on it!”

“You might not have any choice, Dr. Masters,” Phoenix said. “Scion was a U.S. government contractor at the time of the attack. The government may be entitled to direct you to turn the equipment over.”

“I’m not a lawyer, sir, and I don’t particularly like them, but I know armies of them,” Jon said. “I’ll let them handle it.”

“I’m more concerned about what the Turks will do, Mr. Vice President,” Patrick said.

“I’m sure they’ll go to the World Court or to NATO, possibly to the International Admiralty Court, file the criminal charges, and try to compel you to—”

“No, sir, I don’t mean a legal proceeding. I mean, what will the Turkish army do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sir, do you expect the Turkish army to just forget everything that’s happened here today?” Patrick replied. “They have twenty thousand troops spread out between the border and Mosul, and fifty thousand troops within a day’s march of here. This is the first defeat they’ve suffered in their Iraqi operation. I think Jon’s right: they want the systems on that plane, and I think they’re going to come back and take it.”

“They would not dare!” Jaffar exclaimed. “This is not their country, it is
mine
. They will not do whatever they please!”

“We’re trying to prevent this conflict from escalating, Colonel,” Vice President Phoenix said. “Frankly, I think we got lucky out there today. We caught the Turks flat-footed with the Tin Man and CID units. But if Jaffar’s brigade hadn’t shown up when it did, or if the Turks decided to attack right away instead of waiting for instructions, the results could’ve been a lot worse.”

“We would’ve handled them just fine, sir,” Wayne Macomber said.

“I’m glad you think so, Mr. Macomber, but I disagree,” Phoenix said. “You told me yourself you were low on ammo and power. I appreciate the fear factor involved in the Tin Man and CID, but those Turkish troops had marched almost two hundred miles inside Iraq. They weren’t going to run.” Whack lowered his eyes and said nothing in response; he knew the vice president was right.

“Mr. Vice President, I think General McLanahan may be correct,” Jaffar said. “I do not know about these classified things that
Dr. Masters speaks of, but I do know generals in the field, and they do not take defeat well. We pushed around a small security unit today and made them back off, but they outnumber us here.

“The Turks have two brigades surrounding Mosul and deployed to the south of us,” Jaffar went on. “The Iraqi army has sufficient units in hiding to contain them, if that becomes necessary. But my brigade is the only significant force facing the two Turkish brigades to our north. That is where I will concentrate my forces and prepare for any action by the Turks.” He stood and put on his helmet. “General McLanahan, you will deploy your reconnaissance aircraft and ground teams to the northern approach sectors, as far north as you can go without making contact, and warn of any advances by the Turks.”

“Yes, Colonel,” Patrick said. “I’m also concerned about the Turkish air forces, particularly the Second Tactical Air Force’s F-15Es, A-10s, and AC-130 gunships based in Diyarbakir. If they decide to bring them in, they could decimate our forces.”

“What do you propose, Patrick?” Vice President Phoenix asked.

“Sir, you have to convince President Gardner that we need surveillance of Diyarbakir and a plan to respond should the Turks launch a massive attack against us.” Patrick produced a Secure Digital memory card in a plastic case. “This is my proposed reconnaissance schedule and attack plan. Our primary reconnaissance platform is a constellation of microsatellites that Sky Masters Incorporated can place in orbit to provide continuous coverage of Turkey. They can be launched within hours. The attack plan centers around using specialized modules in our XC-57 aircraft that can disrupt and destroy the command and control facilities at Diyarbakir.”

“I thought the XC-57 was just a transport and reconnaissance plane, Patrick,” Phoenix said with a knowing smile.

“Until we attack Diyarbakir, sir, that’s all it is,” Patrick said. “The attack will be with a combination of netrusion—network intrusion—to confuse and overload their networks, followed by high-power microwave weapons to destroy the electronics aboard any operating aircraft or facility. We can follow up with bomber attacks if necessary.”

“Bomber attacks?”

“The Seventh Air Expeditionary Squadron,” Patrick said. “It’s a small B-1B Lancer bomber unit formed by an engineering group in Palmdale, California, that takes planes in flyable storage and makes them operational again. They currently have seven bombers deployed to the United Arab Emirates. They’ve been used to fly contingency support missions for Second Regiment and other Army units in Iraq.”

“Are they an Air Force unit, Patrick?”

“They have an Air Force designation, I believe they’re organized under Air Force Matériel Command, and they’re commanded by an Air Force lieutenant colonel,” Patrick replied, “but most of the members are civilians.”

“Is the entire military being taken over by contractors, Patrick?” Phoenix asked wryly. He nodded somberly. “I don’t like the idea of bombing Turkey, even if they strike at us directly, but if that’s the final option, it sounds sufficiently small and powerful to do the job without causing a world war to break out between NATO allies.”

“My thoughts exactly, sir.”

“I’ll present your plan to Washington, Patrick,” Phoenix said, “but let’s hope we don’t go anywhere near that level of escalation.” He turned to the Iraqi commander. “Colonel Jaffar, I know this is your country and your army, but I urge you to practice the same restraint you showed today. We don’t want to get into a shooting war with the Turks. This business with the classified boxes from that wreckage is of no consequence if lives are at stake.”

“With respect, sir, you are wrong two ways,” Jaffar said. “As I said, I do not know or care about black boxes. But this is not about black boxes—this is about a foreign army invading my home. And I did not practice restraint with the Turks today. We had them outnumbered; there was no reason to fight unless
they
chose to do so. They were the ones who showed restraint, not I. But if the Turks do return, they will come in large numbers, and then we will fight. General McLanahan, I expect a briefing on your deployment plan within the hour.”

“I’ll be ready, Colonel,” Patrick said.

“Excuse me, sir, but I must prepare my troops for battle,” Jaffar said, bowing to Vice President Phoenix. “Colonel Wilhelm, I must thank you for keeping Nahla secure in my absence. May I rely on you and your men to keep Nahla secure as we deploy, as you already have?”

“Of course,” Wilhelm said. “And I’d like to attend your deployment briefings, if I could.”

“You are always welcome, Colonel. You will be notified. Good night.” And Jaffar departed, with Patrick, Wayne, and Jon behind him.

“You still think this is a good idea, General?” Wilhelm asked before they left. “Jaffar’s fighting for
his
country. What are
you
fighting for now? The money?”

Jaffar froze, and they could see him clench and unclench his fists and straighten his back in indignation, but he did not do or say anything. But Patrick stopped and turned to Wilhelm. “You know what, Colonel?” Patrick said with a slight smile. “The Iraqis haven’t paid me a dime. Not one dime.” And he departed.