Separation of Power (24 page)

“It’s something I’m considering.”

“Well, if the fly-boys were to go in and wreak havoc with the Iraqis’ air defenses and lines of communications just prior to my boys going in, it would create the perfect environment. And if they could continue bombing until we were back out it would be a huge help.”

With a look of disbelief, the president asked, “You want to send your men into Baghdad with bombs dropping all around them?”

“Yes.” Gray sat forward and gestured with his hands. “We’d create a safe corridor for the team to get in and out of the city. No bombs would be dropped in that zone, and no bombs would be dropped within, let’s say, a six-block radius of the hospital.”

“Colonel, I haven’t been at this job very long, but I do know that our aviators don’t always hit their target. Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to send your men into a city that we’re bombing?”

Colonel Gray looked his president in the eye and said, “Sir, being a Delta Force commando is dangerous. No one fights for me who doesn’t want to be there. If my men wanted a safe job they’d go sell cars for a living.”

“Point well taken, but . . .” The president remained skeptical. “This seems awfully complicated and,” Hayes looked down the length of the table at General Flood, “you always tell me the more complicated these things get the better chance there is that something will go wrong.”

“That is usually true, sir,” answered the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

Colonel Gray wasn’t to be deterred. “Mr. President, I’ll grant that this is complicated, but I can give you two things that the air force can’t.” Forcefully, Gray continued. “Let’s not forget the primary objective. We need to be sure that we destroy the nukes. I can guarantee that we’ll know whether those nukes are actually underneath that hospital. The air force can’t give you that guarantee, sir. My men can. They will get into that facility, and they will provide you with a bona fide answer as to whether or not those nukes are actually there. We can destroy the weapons on site, and since they are in a fortified bunker, I’m confident that we could pull the mission off without having to kill all of the innocent people in the hospital.” Gray paused briefly to let the president think
about what he’d said and then added, “If you do it the air force’s way, you will be ostracized by the international community for bombing a hospital. You will have no real proof that those nuclear weapons actually existed. Saddam will bus in the journalists so they can shoot footage of the twisted bodies in the rubble. There will be pictures of mothers holding dead babies covered in dust, and the entire Arab world will hate us even more than they already do. Saddam’s control will be further consolidated around a wave of anti-American sentiment and the U.N. will likely vote to end the economic sanctions—”

General Campbell interrupted his subordinate and said, “Colonel, let’s stick to our area of expertise, and leave the other stuff to the president and his staff.”

President Hayes held up his hand and said, “That’s all right . . . that’s all right. I think Colonel Gray has very succinctly stated what we’ve all been afraid to say.” President Hayes sat quietly for a moment while he thought about the fallout from the air strikes. The colonel was right. The current coalition against Iraq was in such a weakened state that it wouldn’t take much to put an end to it. The bombing would more than likely end all economic sanctions. The Israelis had dumped one hell of a problem into his lap. In frustration, Hayes turned to Irene Kennedy and said, “I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

D
onatella was speechless. In two large gulps she finished her vodka martini and began in earnest her search for the waiter. She caught the man’s eye as he was maneuvering his way through the crowd with a tray of drinks. Holding up her empty glass by the stem she asked for another. Her head was swimming and it wasn’t from the vodka, at least not yet. She was scrambling to try to figure out how she had been pulled into this. Who had contacted Ben Freidman and hired him to kill Peter Cameron? It wasn’t an official Mossad hit. This was purely a freelance venture. She knew because her fee for killing Cameron was already sitting in a Swiss bank account, and Mossad would have never paid her so well.

“Donny, I want some answers.” Rapp’s anger had not diminished.

Donatella was flustered. The hit on Peter Cameron had been advertised as an easy one, but she should have known better. The fee was too high, even for a rush job. She took a deep breath. “Why did he try to kill you?”

Rapp leaned back in. “You didn’t answer my question. Who hired you to kill him?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Believe me, I know far less about this mess than you do.”

“You know who hired you.”

“Mitchell, please tell me why this man tried to kill you.”

“All right, Donny, I’ll tell you, but when I’m done you’re going to tell me who hired you and why.” Donatella turned again in search of the waiter and Rapp reached up and grabbed her sculpted chin. Pulling it back toward him, he looked her in the eye and said, “Give me your word.”

Donatella reached up and tried to push his hand away. “Don’t start ordering me around.”

Rapp kept his hand firmly on her chin. “Donny, I’m here as your friend. There are people in Washington who are really upset about this. Half of them want to put a price on your head and the other half want to talk to your old employers in Israel.”

With her eyes closed Donatella began muttering to herself. When she opened her eyes she calmly said, “Tell me why he tried to kill you.”

Rapp released her chin as the waiter set Donatella’s second drink down. When the man was gone Rapp said, “This goes no further than this table.” Donatella nodded. “I was on an operation recently. Two operators were there to assist me. I was the triggerman, they were backup. I took down the target and then they shot me and left me for dead.”

A look of concern on her face, Donatella reached out to touch him and asked, “Where?”

“Two shots, right here.” Rapp pointed to his chest. He read the expression on her face and said, “I know,
very unprofessional.” He pointed to his forehead. “They should have double-tapped me, but they had reason to believe that I wasn’t wearing body armor. At any rate, Cameron was the man who paid them. I don’t know who Cameron worked for, and I don’t know what the motivation was to kill me, but I’ll tell you this. . . . Those two people who double-crossed me are dead.”

“You killed them?”

“No. Cameron did.”

Donatella took a drink. “How do you know he killed them?”

“Someone who I trust very much saw it go down. Cameron pulled the trigger. He then turned on the people who helped him kill the two who he hired to kill me, and then he tried to kill me one more time in Washington.” Rapp sat back. “And I was just about to get my hands on him when you showed up.” Rapp took a drink of wine. “I saw you that day, Donny. You had a blonde wig on. I stepped off the elevator as you entered the staircase at the end of the hall. Something struck me as familiar about you, but I had other things on my mind, like torturing that bastard Cameron so I could find out who hired him. When we picked the lock and got into his office, and I saw the way he’d been killed . . . I knew it was you.”

Donatella found the need for more of the cold vodka. This was not good business. There was a pattern emerging. It appeared that anyone who’d been hired to fulfill a contract was the next person on the list to be killed. She saw her dreams of getting out of the business vanishing before her eyes. With her eyes closed she nodded and said, “It was me.”

“Thank you for being honest. Now will you please tell me who hired you?”

Donatella looked into Rapp’s piercing eyes. She needed time to think, even if it was just a few minutes. It was obvious she had gotten herself into a mess. Whoever had hired her had shown a propensity for killing the very people he employed. That meant she could easily be next on the list.

“Donny, for your own good, tell me who hired you.”

Donatella held firm. She loved Mitch and she felt a loyalty toward him, but her ultimate loyalty was to Ben Freidman, the head of Mossad. She couldn’t give Ben up, at least not until she thought it through. She needed time. Donatella opened her purse and grabbed some money. She threw enough to cover the tab on the table and said to Rapp, “Come on. We need to take a walk.”

T
HE MOOD IN
the Situation Room was tense. Colonel Gray had done a thorough job of pointing out the problems of going after the nukes with air strikes. The president had asked Kennedy for her opinion on the matter, and his nominee to become the next director of the CIA was taking her time crafting an answer.

With all eyes on her, Kennedy announced, “I think Colonel Gray’s plan is ingenious. I think it has a better chance of succeeding than even he knows.”

The president was a little surprised by Kennedy’s overwhelming endorsement. “What makes you say that?”

“The psychology of the Iraqi people. They fear Saddam so thoroughly that they wouldn’t consider challenging him.”

“But it’s not him,” countered Michael Haik. “It’s a bunch of white cars.” It was obvious by his tone that he wasn’t as enamored of Colonel Gray’s plan as Kennedy was.

Kennedy stuck to her guns. “To them, those white cars
are
Saddam, and no one ever challenges Saddam. He’s killed members of his own family; he’s killed dozens of his top generals. No one challenges him for fear of losing their life.” Kennedy looked at Colonel Gray. “I really have to commend you. I’m embarrassed that the CIA didn’t come up with this idea first.”

“Isn’t there a real risk of this blowing up in our faces?” asked the president.

“Yes, there is, but I don’t think it could be any worse than the fallout from bombing a hospital.”

“But Saddam put those damn nukes under that hospital. He’s the one putting those people at risk.”

“I agree with you, sir,” said Kennedy, “but I doubt the international press will.”

The president lowered his head in frustration and rubbed his temples. Without looking up he asked, “General Flood, what’s your take on all of this?”

“Sir, I think the important thing right now is to keep our options open. We should have Colonel Gray move his assets into the theater of operations. That way if you decide to play this card, we can do so on short notice.”

“And if we go ahead, what is your opinion on providing air cover?”

The chairman of the Joint Chiefs hesitated for a moment and then said, “I am not a believer in half measures, sir. As we’ve discussed before, I do not think we should have ended the Gulf War when we did. We were enamored with our own technology and forgot that the way you win a war is to put troops on the ground. We should have gone all the way to Baghdad and made sure Saddam was ousted.” Flood paused long enough to let out a sigh of frustration and then said, “We chose not to do that and for the last decade the man has continued to be a big pain in our ass. If he has in fact got his hands on some nukes, and is about to make them operational, I think we need to hit him hard, and I mean really hard. I would recommend, whether we implement Colonel Gray’s plan or not, that we launch a comprehensive bombing campaign against him that focuses on his air defenses and his command and control structures, and I think this time we need to really hit him where it hurts. We need to take out his oil and refinery facilities.”

“General,” started the president, “you know I can’t do that. The environmentalists will go nuts . . . my own party will attack me.”

“That may be, sir, but you ask those environmentalists what they think will cause more damage to this planet. A couple of thousand barrels of spilled oil or a nuclear detonation over Tel Aviv, or God forbid, Washington.” Flood leaned forward, setting his large forearms on the table. “Sir, the only way he can afford to buy these weapons is through his oil revenues. We need to hit him in his wallet, and if you’re worried
about Turkey and Jordan we can throw a couple hundred million more dollars in aid their way after we’re done.”

The president looked to Kennedy for her opinion. “General Flood makes a very forceful case, and in principle I agree with everything he’s just said. Unfortunately, however, we have to take politics into consideration. Right now your administration hangs on to a razor-thin mandate. If you lose that mandate by alienating the base of your own party you could become ineffective both domestically and abroad.”

Michael Haik eagerly jumped in. “I agree with Irene one hundred percent. As much as I’d like to, we can’t go after his refineries. The outcry would be horrendous.”

“So go ahead and bomb a hospital full of innocent people,” replied the president in disgust, “but don’t do anything to hurt Mother Earth. It’s the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Sir, I’m not saying I agree with it,” said Haik. “I’m just stating the political reality.”

“Well it’s a shitty reality, and one that I’m very tempted to try and change.”

“Sir, if I may,” interjected Kennedy. Looking to Colonel Gray she asked, “How difficult would it be for your men to bring one of the nukes back?”

“That depends how big it is.”

“I’ll have my people give you an accurate answer by this evening, but for the sake of our discussion, let’s assume at the very least you could remove the part of the weapon that we’re most interested in.”

“You mean the warhead, of course.”

“Essentially.”

Gray thought about it for a moment. “If the weapon hasn’t been assembled, my guess is one man could carry the warhead, but if it has been assembled . . . then things could get tricky. We’d have to spend time trying to dismantle the weapon to get at the warhead, and on a mission like this we’d prefer to get in, plant the charges and be out in a minute or less.”

“I understand, but it’s conceivable that you could pull it off?”