by David Hearne
Zoe’s life was now consumed with, waiting, plotting, pretending and hoping for better tomorrows. Her mind was constantly whirling with plans for her survival. Each moment of every day she steadfastly became more and more acquainted with everything she could about her surroundings, guard schedules, staff changes, common sounds from the hall and where she was located in Baghdad. This was the type of information necessary for her to acquire to successfully accomplish an escape from this hospital confinement. And the escape had to happen before they released her to the American contingent constantly demanding her freedom.
She knew she was in the Ibn Sina hospital in an exclusive district of Baghdad. The building was a three-story hospital on Haifa Street right down the street from the Presidential and government offices. It was used only by the members of Saddam’s regime and privileged others.
Ibn Sina hospital was considered the best-equipped medical facility in Iraq. It had burn treatment capabilities and an excellent surgery staff complete with the latest equipment. Nothing was too good for this hospital, because it was responsible for caring for all of Saddam Hussein’s family. The hospital was a secure haven protected by the Fourth Platoon from the Fifth Battalion of Saddam’s Special Republican Guard’s First Brigade. These soldiers were equipped with BKC-RBK Kalashnikovs and under the direct command of Qusay Hussein. Saddam Hussein had given his youngest son, Qusay, control of both the Special Intelligence Agency and the Special Republican Guard.
Zoe had been convalescing in the same room that she was initially admitted to. Oddly, it was the same room that in August of 2002 Abu Nidal had died in. Abu Nidal, born as Sabri al-Banna, was a Palestinian terrorist and trusted confidant of Saddam. He was a much-feared Palestinian murderer, who had built his own small army of thugs that shared with him his lust for killing. His list of patrons included the most brutal and megalomaniacal of Middle Eastern dictators. Saddam had been perhaps his longest ally and loyal sponsor. Libyan dictator Col Gaddafi established strong ties with him until 1998. For a short time, he had also provided services for President Assad, but that was short lived because of the actions he had taken for Saddam Hussein against Syria during the Iran/Iraq war. President Reagan had placed him on the most wanted list of international thugs and terrorists. He maintained that position until President Clinton replaced him with Osama bin Laden.
Like Zoe, Abu Nidal received a VIP welcome, and was treated at the Ibn Sina Hospital within 100 yards of Saddam’s office at the Presidential Palace. His cause of death was shrouded in mystery. The official version was that he committed suicide, but most believe Nidal was murdered by Saddam following some sort of a disagreement.
A chill passed through her when she realized the strange coincidence that they both were assassins, and that Nidal’s life ended in the same hospital room. Even more bizarre was the fact that directly adjacent to her room was the perpetually reserved hospital room for Saddam’s eldest son, Uday.
This was the same hospital where Uday Hussein recuperated after he was nearly shot to death Dec. 12 1996 by unknown assailants in the plush Mansour district. Three or four gunmen in jogging suits and helmets surrounded him while he was stopped in his expensive armored car. They tossed hand grenades at his car, shattering its windshield and then at point-blank range, fired automatic rifles at Uday, hitting him numerous times. His injuries included a ruptured bladder and stomach, and damage to his leg and spine that left him with constant pain and a permanent limp. The Islamic Dawa Party, an Iran-based Iraqi opposition group, took credit for the assassination attempt, but Saddam never proved this. Uday Hussein was 32 when the attack occurred in the Mansour’s shopping boulevard where he had spent much of his hard-drinking brutal nightlife or raping, killing and maiming people.
As her days in the hospital slowly ebbed by, her escape plan continued to evolve and mature. A major necessity for a successful escape was to enlist at least one trusted Iraqi ally. Her target became Dr.Ibrahim al-Janabi . He possessed a position in the hospital to assist in her escape, and she was becoming very much infatuated with him. She made it abundantly clear to Ibrahim, that her husband was having an affair with another woman. Zoe claimed Ira had not visited her since her accident because of his illicit relationship. Her amorous feelings for Ibrahim were genuine, and she began to show more interest in him every time he visited her. She baited him with questions of what he would do if war came to Iraq and told him how she could help him establish himself in America as a doctor. She engaged him in conversation at every chance meeting, she had with him. If he was checking her temperature, she would look deep into his eyes and worship him with her glaze. Ibrahim began to reciprocate and he would caress her hands and press his finger against her lips, and she would give it a kiss. She found herself seeing his handsome bearded face, whenever she closed her eyes and even remembering the scent of his cologne. She felt a bit foolish as she fantasized about how far the relationship could go, but she also felt that anything now was possible. The adoration she showed in her eyes for Ibrahim was real, because she credited him with giving her the gift of life. He had become a God to her.
Along with her amorous advances on the doctor, she busied herself with activities that would keep her adversaries believing she still thought she was Senator Katherine Laforge. She had purposely become very demanding of the Senator’s staff in the states and constantly inundated them with request to provide her with reports and research results on platform issues.
One report forwarded to her as she continued her charade, was a study from the U.S. Department of Energy titled, “Aquatic Species Program Biodiesel from Algae.” The research had been prompted by the 1973 OPEC embargo that caused gas prices to jump four hundred percent at the pumps. The study detailed activities that the government had taken on tests at a highly restricted area in Roswell, New Mexico. These tests exhibited that certain strains of algae growing in ponds could be converted into biodiesel. The experiments demonstrated that a one-acre pond could annually yield ten thousand gallons of biodiesel. She read the reports over several times. This was an amazing discovery.
She knew that the government helped subsidize farmers to grow soybeans that produce only forty gallons of biodiesel per acre per year. Why would a solution that produced nine thousand nine hundred and sixty gallons more per acre be secreted away from the public? The confusing part was this solution to our energy crisis had been available since the 1970’s, but no party or administration chose to implement the plan to decrease our reliance for OPEC oil. She wondered if Senator Laforge was aware of this report? The question of, why it was not being used, continued to bother her. She decided that publicizing this study and fighting to implement its solution would be something Katherine would have done. She could not see how big oil could swing so much power to silence the government from using this solution to free us from OPEC’s clutches. It would certainly make us a more secure nation and end our need to have our soldiers die to insure foreign oil reaches our shores. But it would end the record breaking billion dollar profits made by the oil giants as they steadily increased their prices for gasoline at the pump. Political campaigns on both sides of the aisle are funded by big Oil. If a politician wants a contribution from the petrol industry, he will do best to accept their lobbyist advice above science, logic, and certainly over their constituent’s needs. She also realized that rational arguments are of little concern to politicians seeking election money from big oil.
Zoe fired off a request to the Senator’s staff for more information on producing biodiesel from algae. For some odd reason, Zoe felt Senator Laforge would appreciate her efforts as moving in a direction that would create more popularity for her in the upcoming Presidential campaign. She looked forward to discovering more about biodiesel and if any action at all is being taken to implement algae production.
* * * *
The shrill screech of the intercom abruptly interrupted our discussion. A quick series of annoying hisses admitted from the speakers, and then the deep voice of Father Gru
dziński floated out into the auditorium. Tapping the mike he asked: “If I could please have your attention.” His plea for quiet was repeated throughout the auditorium by others and suddenly the din subsided. A tall, imposing figure, Father Grudziński was well liked by the people of Charlestown. He was attired in serious black, clerical garb with sharply creased and pleated pants and the customary Roman collar framing his handsome face.
Father Grudziński began; “Good Morning and thank you all for venturing out on this very cold morning. We have all gathered here to find solace among friends as we struggle to accept the violent acts of a few men earlier this morning. I have been asked by associates of Senator Laforge to say a few words about this incident. Our town of Charlestown is a good place, with good people, but today a terrible tragedy broke the heart of our community. Here, even in our little town, we learn we are not immune from senseless violent acts that plague our society. Ira Laforge, and four aides to Senator Laforge, whose names have been withheld, have been taken from us. Four of the alleged perpetrators were also found dead at the site of this terrible crime. And we are still unable to give you any additional information about Senator Laforge’s condition. Police are still withholding this information. This violent act will mark our community for years to come. It is a wound that will take time to heal in our hearts. The Good Lord allowed me, to be here to try to offer some solace to those whose lives are now forever changed by the events that unfolded earlier this morning.”
His words of comfort flowed effortlessly as he glided across the floor with the wireless microphone locked in his hand. His words, the intensity of the moment and the light streaming through the frost covered windows awakened the magical, mystical sense of the sublime. It was a feeling I used to get as a young man when light beamed through the stained glass windows filling the church with a rainbow of many hues.
Father Grudzińsk asked everyone to join him in singing the hymn “Eternal Father Strong to Save.” Slightly off key, he started the hymn, and was immediately joined by the Keene State College Choir. The people sitting at their tables joined in.
Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who biddest the mighty ocean deep
It’s own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!
The somberness and poignancy of the scene were intense. Tears streamed down many cheeks during the hymn. Father Grudzińsk had picked the same hymn sung as President Kennedy’s body was carried up the steps of the U.S. Capitol to lie in state. As the last verse of the hymn ended, Father Grudzińsk looked out amongst us and called all of us to bow our heads.
“Lord, You visit us with trouble this day. We are all deeply saddened. We thank You for your presence at this time of need, and we ask You to help protect us all from harm. We humbly ask Your blessing for those who perished in this terrible act and for their families and friends who grieve for those lost.”
“We pray for the families and survivors of all those whose loved ones were taken. God we pray for the eternal rest for those who died and commend these souls to the care and mercy of God. We ask for pardon for the souls of those who were responsible for these acts of transgression against God’s law of love and our worldly laws. Amen.”
A chorus of Amen’s echoed back from our tables and then the Keene State College Choir filled the auditorium with the words of “The Lord is my Shepherd”
THE LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
This room of humanity was lost to the events and moved by the hymn. All felt the reality of what had happened and tears streamed down from many eyes. Some recited their own private prayers and others sat totally quiet staring at the choir. The shining eyes, the quivering lips, and the somber faces moved me deeply. Oddly, I felt caught up in a strong wave of spiritual exaltation. I was one with the rest of the mass of humanity mourning the loss of friends.
Father Grudzińsk changed the mood a bit and asked the choir to sing, “Just a closer walk with thee,” a hymn with almost an upbeat sound to it.
While they sang, he moved about the room and announced that if anyone wanted to talk to him, he would be available to help them in this time of sadness. As he moved by a muted TV, which hung from the ceiling, I swallowed hard. A news bulletin scrolled across the bottom of the screen that read, “Senator Laforge missing from attack site…..”
Part Seven
Escape Plans
The snow had started to fall heavily again, and it whipped angrily at the large windows in the town hall. A murmur rippled through the auditorium as the audience speculated why Senator Laforge was not found at the crime scene. The most popular explanation was that she was kidnapped. Yet, no one had contacted authorities with any demands related to her disappearance and no one had claimed responsibility for the attack. Another scenario was that she had escaped the carnage and was hiding in the surrounding woods. If that was the case, she needed to be found soon because the freezing temperature and fresh snow flurries could freeze her. Others speculated that she might have been taken from the bus and her body disposed of at some other location, perhaps in the Connecticut River. At that time, I lacked any real theory myself. I just knew I would like her found or some conclusion to the mystery of her disappearance.
Another concern had crept into my mind that cold morning. It was a very selfish one, but it was real, and it increased the anxiety I was already experiencing over the attack on Katherine. I worried that I would no longer be in the fray of events. My work with Senator Laforge had become so much of my life, that without it, I feared my life would be without purpose. My research and perseverance had provided her with the powerful alternative energy report that became the foundation of her energy platform. This work was an extension of who I was and without it, I feared I would mentally wither away.
During the last few years, I had slowly lost my innocence. The high-minded attitude I once held had been replaced by a great deal of cynicism. I wanted to be left more and more to myself. I enjoyed my days and nights of intense research in diverse areas, and I liked the fact that Senator Laforge wanted facts and not a spin to everything I reported. I was learning that problems do not always have perfect solutions. I wanted to experience that cathartic moment where the complex was revealed to me in total clarity and the answers would be simple and logical. I was learning that change could be so gradual that in one’s lifetime it is often imperceptible.
The anxiety and fear had triggered one of my dreaded headaches. It was time for medication before I got nauseous and dizzy. I hated the medication probably as much as the headaches. Often it would bring about random mental images and cloud the lens of my consciousness to where I seemed to peer through an opaque glass. I slyly swallowed a pill with a mouth full of coffee. At these times, I would close my eyes, and I would silently utter every vile invective, I had ever heard until the feeling subsided.
Vince watched me with my eyes closed and his fingers drumming on the table. His previous smile had evaporated and was replaced with a look of exasperation.
Finally, he ventured, “You okay?”
I peered at him through a haze of condensation that had formed on my glasses. “Yes I am fine.” I replied.
“Well it makes me nervous with you sitting there with your eyes closed. Hell, I don’t know if you are alive or dead when you do that!”
“Sorry, it is just a minor headache I was nursing. It is about gone now.”
At an adjacent table, a mammoth man with his buttocks spilling off his chair was also staring at me.
“You want to hear more about Kat’s Iraq
visit?” Vince inquired.
“Absolutely”, I replied coming out of my mental fog.
“Well, I am not sure how accurate all of this is because some is just rumored stuff, I heard and some is from conversations I had with her when she was trying to figure out what was going on back here in the states.” Vince offered.
“I know she was having a hell of a time trying to recover from the accident.
* * * *
“Her body was healing, through the best of care given Senator Laforge by the Ibn Sina Hospital staff. Zoe knew she was experiencing a measure of the captor-prisoner syndrome, where isolated victims form emotional attachments with their abductors. But in her case she felt it was only natural, since there was no one else in her life. Just those who she felt wanted her dead like Dr. Benoit and his group of cronies waiting to snuff out her life.
Her face hardened as she thought about her emptiness. But when she pictured Dr. Ibrahim al-Janabi, tall, slim, bearded, with his dark eyes blazing with warmth, she melted a bit and her lips softened. Zoe felt drawn to him and made no effort to quell this budding emotion. Her attachment to Ibrahim was even more important emotionally because of the alienation she felt from Ira. She knew it would sound crazy to others that his rejection stung her so badly, since she was simply his wife’s clone. But it did hurt. The feelings were as powerful as those phantom feelings that plague people who lose an arm or a leg. They still feel it itching or aching, but it is physically not there. More than anything, she missed him because she had lived as Katherine and loved him as deeply as Katherine.
She conversed in her mind with herself. “My emotions, my memories are as real and as poignant as hers,” she declared. She blinked back unwelcome tears as she thought this.
Her thoughts spiraled back to the beginning, the CIA, Katherine, and she fought back dark anger. They had played God, she silently fumed. “I was not supposed to outlive the 72-hour window they gave ComDefC1,” she thought, but she had. Her miraculous life was perhaps God’s will to punish those who played in his arena.