by Lee Jackson
Later that evening, Atcho tried to tell Sofia about the experience over the phone. He found he could not. “Words to describe what I saw don’t exist.” He felt drained of energy in mind and body. “If Klaus succeeds,” he said, “he’ll touch every part of Earth.”
Sofia could not think of a reply that fit the moment. “I love you,” she whispered.
They hung up. Atcho sat alone in his room on the edge of his bed. He sank his head in his hands. “How did this land on me?” He tried to put his sense of overwhelm out of his mind, but it persisted. He slept little that night, torn by nightmares of the world wrapped in billowing flames, the faces of those he loved emerging in agonized, burning images. He woke up in a cold sweat.
Early the next morning, he met Horton for coffee in the mess hall. The major’s drawn expression indicated he had encountered an equally disturbed night. “I tried to explain to my wife what I saw yesterday,” he said. “I couldn’t.”
“Me too,” Atcho replied. “Any ideas on how we stop this guy?”
Horton sighed and shook his head. “I wish I did, but I’m clean out of ideas. First we got to find him.”
“I’m guessing we have about four days,” Atcho said. “The cleanup was announced, and security is already tightening around the wells. By the time work starts, the area will be sealed off.”
They walked to the headquarters offices and entered a conference room for the Marine commanding general’s morning briefing. Atcho was astounded at the number of people in attendance. The primary staff officers sat on three sides of a massive table that abutted a large screen on one end.
A colonel approached them and introduced himself. “Y’all don’t need to be here,” he said. “I’m the general’s chief-of-staff. This will be a long meeting covering lots of subjects that won’t interest you. I’m fully read in on the situation, and so are our intelligence and operations officers. They’ve each designated a senior subordinate to assist you, and you have the full assets of the division to help. The CG asked me to say that you have unimpeded access to him. If our staff can’t help, go to him directly. The staff is advised of that, and I’ll help any way I can.” He focused his attention on Horton and then switched it to Atcho. “The major knows the ropes.”
The colonel directed them to a specific room where two lieutenant-colonels met them. After introductions, they sat down at a conference table.
“We’ve been out there on the oilfields,” Jones, the intelligence officer, opened the discussion. “We know what it’s like. We’ll tell you what we know, what’s being done. You can fill in the gaps.”
“One thing to let you know,” Green, the operations officer, broke in, “a couple of days ago, a private plane flew into the area. It was spotted flying high, but then it descended into the smoke. A couple of fighter jets scrambled, but their orbit was wide. We had a couple of helicopters on standby, but we lost the plane in the smoke. It popped out high again a while later but beat feet back into Saudi airspace and flew low into an area with lots of hills. That pilot knows his turf. We don’t know where they landed. We never saw the tail numbers. The aircraft was white when it went into the smoke. It came out pitch black.”
Atcho regarded them grim-faced. “Hills? In Saudi Arabia.”
Green grinned. “People are always surprised when they hear that. They have green hills too, with vegetation. Lots of them.”
“All right. Any word on the license number?”
“The car belongs to a Saudi businessman,” Jones replied. “Yousef Al-Zahrani. He’s known to have ties to Usama bin Laden, an up-and-coming terrorist.” He pulled two photographs from a file folder, one each of Yousef and Klaus. “We showed these to the clerk at the hotel. He positively identified both men as guests who stayed in the hotel that night.”
“Let’s go get ‘em,” Horton exclaimed. “What are we waiting for?”
Green grimaced. “It’s not that easy. Yousef is a hawaladar. Do you know what that is?” Atcho and Horton nodded. “Then you know he has high-level contacts, including on the police force. Being in the hotel that night wasn’t against the law, and we can’t prove that Yousef’s car transported Collins’ body.”
“Don’t the Saudis know that Kuwait is a furnace?” Atcho asked, aghast. He noticed Horton regarding the two officers with a look of skepticism. “Don’t they know that a weapon like the ones Klaus has can destroy beyond anything ever seen?”
Jones sighed. “They know it, but they don’t necessarily believe this man Klaus has any nuclear weapons.” He paused. “If you see things from their view, it sounds outlandish.” He indicated himself and Green with a flick of his thumb. “We’re here because we’re assigned. We believe you believe the threat, but it’s a lot to swallow.”
Atcho glanced at Horton. The major’s face had turned scarlet. His eyes bulged. “Sirs,” he said through gritted teeth, “the fact that the Kuwaiti oilfields are on fire is a lot to swallow. No one in his right mind would do such a thing, right? But take a good long look out that window?” He walked over, jerked a curtain aside, and pointed. He took a deep breath. “We’re guessing we have four days to stop this turd Klaus.” He held up a hand with four fingers extended. “Count ‘em. One, two, three, four. That’s it.”
He put his hands on his hips, still glaring. “Suppose we’re right about Klaus. Do you want to be here when five nuclear bombs ignite all the oil in that field?” He pointed again, toward the darkened sky. “I came from Berlin by order of my commanding general to help Atcho chase this guy down and put him six feet under. Do you think the general would send me here if this wasn’t a credible threat?”
His jaw jutted toward Jones and Green in a pugnacious stance. “If you don’t believe us, that’s fine. But since you’re assigned, I suggest you shake off your battle fatigue or whatever is muddlin’ your brains. If we’re right, more than your careers could be at stake.” He stared them down a moment, and then relaxed. Dropping his hands to his sides, he grinned. “Respectfully, of course.”
Jones and Green were visibly shaken at the onslaught. As Horton had spoken, their expressions morphed from shock, to disbelief, to reluctant acceptance. Green looked at Jones, “Makes sense.” He turned back to Atcho and Horton. “What do we do?”
Horton chuckled. “We was hoping you’d have some ideas.”
“That was one hell of a scolding you gave those guys,” Atcho told Horton when they were alone.
“Yeah, well, I had to get their attention. They were about to blow us off with courtesy.”
“What now?”
“Their general will want to hear from them. I think we scared them enough that they’ll give him a good picture. I think we’ll get more priority now.”
“Good. I talked to Burly a few minutes ago. He’s set up support in Riyadh with the CIA. They’ve coordinated with Saudi intelligence to put surveillance on Yousef.”
“Have they spotted him?”
“Yeah, but if Klaus was with him a few nights ago, he’s not there now.”
“What about that airplane?”
“That’s a mystery. There are quite a few small airports along that eastern strip of Saudi Arabia. That plane could have taken off from any of them, or even an unmarked strip. When it came out of the cloud, it got down to the ground and out of sight fast.”
Horton blew air threw pursed lips. Exasperation replaced his normal humor. “What do we do now? Sit and wait until someone puts up a sign pointing the way?”
Atcho felt his partner’s discontent. “What are the alternatives for putting the bomb on target? He had to be thinking about an air drop, but there are several obstacles. How would he pinpoint the location? If the bomb goes directly into one of the wells, the trigger mechanism would melt before it activated. If it drops to the side of one, the force of landing could jar the mechanics and have the same effect, neutralize the trigger.”
“What about if he dropped it with a parachute and used one of those barometric devices to self-detonate when it reaches a c
ertain altitude?”
“That’s a thought, but he’d better have a very fast plane. He’s not the type to be a martyr, and the air defenses will be looking for him. Besides, the barometric pressure inside those smoke clouds must be irregular, so he couldn’t be sure that it would go off at the right altitude.”
“At least he’d get an airburst.”
“One that would take him with it. Keep thinking.”
29
Atcho and Horton sat at a table in a conference room at Alsip’s division headquarters. “I’m stumped,” Horton grumbled. “How in hell are we going to find this guy and stop him?”
Atcho rubbed tired eyes and took a sip of coffee. “I don’t know. The Saudis aren’t helping much and General Alsip, good guy that he is, took a little jogging to get him to believe this could really happen. He’s looking for us to come up with a plan.”
“I know.” Horton mulled. “Have you heard from Sofia?”
“She’s at home. She and Ivan have coordinated. There was a surveillance team of three watching her when she arrived, but that’s been cut to one. She’s taking precautions but comes and goes normally. Ivan’s men are watching the watchers.”
“That’s good, I guess.” Horton heaved a sigh. “This is frustrating. You’d think two Texas boys could figure out how to corral one scrawny terrorist.” He caught Atcho’s glance, his eyes twinkling over a slow grin. “You are a Texas boy now, right?”
“Right. Let’s go over what we know again.”
“Again?” Horton stretched his legs out, linked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling in a parody of boredom. “What happened with Jones and Green? I thought they were supposed to help us.”
“They are helping. Right now—” Atcho stopped in mid-sentence. His head turned to stare out the window at the smoke-blackened sky. “Joe, you are brilliant.”
Perplexed, Horton squinted at Atcho. “I know. What did I come up with this time?”
Atcho was still lost in thought. He moved closer to the window and looked outside at the soldiers, contractors, and their equipment moving past on their individual tasks. “Get Jones and Green back in here.”
General Alsip leaned back in his chair and studied the screen. “Am I understanding that you want us to do an information operation and step up security now? We’re still pulling maintenance on our machinery. Information operations take a while to get approved, and they are usually squelched.”
“Yes, sir,” Green said, “but we’re talking about a nuclear bomb and—”
“I know what we’re talking about,” Alsip growled, “and the president believes the threat too. We should evacuate this area.” He plopped his forearms on the table in frustration. “But if we do that, we’ll cause panic and create another target that could blow up at any minute.”
An orderly entered and handed the general a note. He read it and directed his attention to Atcho and Horton. “This thing’s been elevated. You’re going to see General Schwarzkopf. I’ll call ahead and fill him in on what I know about your plan.”
“Good lord, what are you dragging me into?” Horton grumbled as they walked to the airfield. “You know I kept my career alive by keeping a low profile. You got me going in front of the most colorful general since MacArthur.” His eyes bulged. “They say he’s got a hot temper. He’s likely to get mad at me ’cuz some people hereabouts think I might be a legend.” He smirked when Atcho rolled his eyes. “He might not like competition.”
“He’s a master of information operations,” Atcho retorted. “He knows how to handle the press, and there’s no one else here who can order the assets we need.”
Horton thought about that. “Still, you’re messing with my career. Do you know how low the odds are of my getting promoted again? You just took them to zero.”
Atcho smacked his lips. “I know that keeps you awake at night.”
“It might. I’m a sensitive guy.”
They flew via Blackhawk to meet with Schwarzkopf, expecting to go to his headquarters far back at the Saudi foreign ministry in Riyadh. Atcho was surprised when the aircraft settled in a remote part of the desert inside Kuwait under the shroud of black clouds.
“This ain’t a shock,” Horton told him when the helicopter parked near two other almost identical choppers, and the engine had wound down sufficiently so that they could talk. “He leads from the front.”
Schwarzkopf met them a few yards from the Blackhawk. He was a barrel of a man and towered over Atcho and Horton. When they shook hands, his palm swallowed theirs. “Sorry to meet you out here in the middle of nowhere,” he said, “but we’re on short timelines. I spoke with the chairman of the joint chiefs this morning. He had been briefed by a guy you call Burly. The president believes the threat is credible, so we got our marching orders. General Alsip gave me the outlines of your concept. Let’s go over the details. Quickly.” They entered a small compound. He gestured around. “This is what’s left of an OP we had out here. There’s a tent set up where we can get out of the wind and talk.”
As they walked through the sand, Schwarzkopf peered at the major. “Aren’t you Joe Horton?”
“Yes sir, that’s me.”
“Hmm. Thought so. I heard about you.”
Horton sucked in his cheeks while shooting a wide-eyed glance at Atcho. “I hope some of it was good, General.”
“I heard about you,” came the reply in a noncommittal tone.
They reached the tent. It was large enough for a small group to stand in. At one end, a map-board of Kuwait stood propped against the canvas wall. A colonel stood in front of the map, studying it. “This is my aide,” Schwarzkopf said without further introductions. “Now, tell me what you got.”
They talked for less than an hour. Atcho explained his concept.
“I think we can handle that without cutting into existing plans,” the general told Atcho. “We’d be accelerating some of them, and what you need is more of a show than actual force.” He turned to the aide. “Colonel, can you fill in the blanks, get them to ops and make sure the frag goes out tonight? I want this executed tomorrow morning. In fact, if we can get ready in time, the first reports could go out tonight.”
“You got it, sir.”
Schwarzkopf turned to Atcho. “I’m sending you down to the Marine headquarters. Your operation will be in their sector, so that’s where it should be run.”
“Can we get Lieutenant-colonels Jones and Green to go down with us?” Horton cut in. “They’re already up to speed. We won’t have to educate a new set of people.”
Schwarzkopf gave him a hard look, and then nodded. “I’ll get Alsip to send them down there. Anything else, Major?”
Horton’s eyes widened, and he exaggerated standing at attention. His characteristic grin played at the corners of his mouth. “No, General. That ought to do it.”
The small group started back toward the helicopters. “I need to commune with nature a minute,” Horton said, “if you catch my meaning.” He headed into the desert.
“I’m glad I got a chance to meet you, Atcho,” the general said as Horton disappeared over a low sand dune. “Always good to talk to a fellow alum. I know your background. I saw you that night that Reagan talked about you in Congress.”
Atcho shook off the compliment. “That’s nice of you to say.” They both scanned the horizon. The black cloud hovered above them. To the west, the sky was clear blue. “That was one hell of a war, General. The devastation is hard to grasp.”
They talked for a couple of minutes, and then saw Horton heading back their way. “Do you really know Horton?” Atcho asked.
Schwarzkopf chuckled. “He’s known all over the Army. He did some things in combat that were impressive, one might even say heroic. He has a couple of Silver Stars and Purple Hearts and a few other medals, but he’s really famous for ragging on everyone. Anyone who can’t take it and dish it back will be in for a rough time.”
Atcho chuckled. “Had you met him before today?”
/> “I’ve never laid eyes on him. I shoved BS his way before he started in on me. Being a general, all I had to do was look at him and tell him I’d heard about him. I’m sure he’ll tell you his opinion about that later.”
He glanced toward Horton still making his way back. “I heard about the chewing out he gave Jones and Green over in Alsip’s outfit. Horton got that ball rolling. Then I heard from the joint chiefs’ chairman, who heard from the president.” Schwarzkopf touched Atcho on the shoulder. “Don’t tell the major I said any of that stuff about him.” He chuckled. “His head’s too big already. But in a firefight, that’s who you want by your side. And he’s not really a braggart. He has the warmest heart you’ll ever meet. That’s his other reputation.”
Atcho took a long look at Schwarzkopf. And you’re a leader who values compassion in a fighter.
Klaus sat on a low couch on a terrace looking to the east. He had arrived at Bandar’s house the night before after a long, circuitous route through the desert on the back of a camel with a band of Bedouins. “You cannot get stopped at the checkpoints with those suitcases,” Yousef had insisted. “Do you want to trust someone else to bring them to you at Bandar’s?”
Klaus had admitted that he did not care for the idea.
“Then this is the way to keep control of your luggage and have it where you need it. Bedouins wander all over the desert. They avoid commonly used roads and don’t recognize international boundaries. No one bothers them.”
Reluctantly, Klaus had agreed, and had thus spent a day and a half atop the wave-like motion of a “ship of the desert,” his bombs carefully slung on the back of the beast.
Bandar’s house sat below the crest of a hill with an uninterrupted view for miles. In the distance, the black cloud over Kuwait hung dark and expanding, but above him the sky was clear. He had spoken with Yousef by phone on arrival.
“This is for your information and nothing to worry about,” Yousef told him. “I heard through friends in the police that the Americans inquired about my car being in Dhahran. The FBI is there investigating the death of Collins. Someone must have checked out my house by now. You’re safe where you are. Bandar is a good host and knows the country.”