"They ain't the type I'd choose for friends," Sikes said. "I don't like Pakos or Arabs or none o' them Wog blokes. And I don't think their religion lets 'em drink beer or whiskey anyway. I wish to hell they'd all go back where they come from, that's wot I bluddy wish. Let England be England, by Gawd!"
"They're from Iraq," Jenkins said. "The same country where your son deserted from the Army."
"All that trouble started when them swells in that Dragoon regiment wouldn't give Archie a commission," Sikes said defiantly. "He was good enough to be a sergeant, by God, and he was good enough to attend officers' training school and go to another regiment, but they said he wasn't acceptable in their precious mess, hey? Archie ain't the type to take being snubbed quiet. One thing led to another and it ended up with him taking French leave."
"He did more than that," Falkes said. "He didn't just go off without permission, he left without the intention of returning."
"Wot's that got to do with the price o' tea in China?"
Falks leaned toward him, resenting the flippant remark. "I'll tell you what it's got to do with, Sikes. It's got to do with you and your son. We now know an Iraqi was instrumental in getting your son away from the military. And Archibald Sikes has been actively working with the terrorists in Afghanistan."
"Now, I don't believe that for an instant," Sikes said.
"And those two Iraqi lads are now in custody for taking part in a bombing in Leeds," Jenkins said. "And we know they have a contact here in the United Kingdom.
And we know he's an Englishman."
"Well, I ain't working with no bombers!"
"We got a few questions to put to you, Sikes," Falkes said coldly. "And we advise you to cooperate. It'll be for your own good."
"Bluddy shit!" Sikes exclaimed. "I want me solicitor!"
"You've been brought in under the Antiterrorist Act, Sikes," Jenkins said. "And if you want some advice, here's some. You better cough up the truth when it comes to answering our questions. One slip! One rotten lie, and you're for it. Understand?"
"Oh, bluddy shit!"
"Get ready, Sikes," Falkes said. "It's going to be a long night."
.
10 SEPTEMBER 1000 HOURS
MRS. Nancy Sikes didn't know whether to worry or not. Her husband, Charlie, had gone off the night before with two policemen and still wasn't home. Surely there hadn't been an accident or anything. She would have been informed. Maybe they had some news about Archie. She left the kitchen and went to the front window for the tenth time that morning. On this occasion she was rewarded with the sight of a police car pulling up to the curb. Charlie got out of the back and walked toward the house. It was easy to see he was dead tired.
She ran to the door and jerked it open. "Charlie! Wot's been going on then?"
He came in and hung up his cap and jacket. When he turned toward her, she could see his bloodshot eyes and the paleness of his face. He shook his head slowly. "Oh, Nancy! Them coppers been giving me bluddy hell all night. Two of them Wog lads at the warehouse was arrested for a bomb plot. They figured I was in on it because o' Archie. I had a god-awful time convincing 'em I didn't know nothing about it."
"Oh, poor Charlie," Nancy said. "Come out to the kitchen, love. I'll make you a nice cup o' tea."
He followed her, saying, "I thought they might have some news about the lad, but all they told me was that he was a terrorist or something."
Mrs. Sikes went to the stove to put on a pot as Mr. Sikes sat down. He sighed audibly. "I better call work and tell 'em why I ain't in yet."
"Well, you tell 'em why," Mrs. Sikes said. "It wasn't your fault, Charlie."
"They know about Archie deserting, Nancy, and some o' the blokes has been making remarks about it. This is probably the excuse they've been looking for to give me the bluddy sack."
"The union won't let 'em do that, Charlie."
"The union ain't exactly sympathetic toward me," Mr. Sikes said. He suddenly slammed his hand down hard on the table. "Goddamn it! That boy of ours has got us into some deep shit!"
Mrs. Sikes stifled a sob, then recovered and wiped her eyes. "The tea will be ready in a minute, love."
CHAPTER 20
CUSTIS FARM, VIRGINIA
THE facility, made up of three hundred acres of U. S. government property, was not a working agricultural site, although the people who used it referred to it as "the Farm." It was far off the beaten track, surrounded by deep sections of forest and bog, and kept under rigid security. A narrow dirt lane that wound ten miles off the main county road was the only way to reach it overland. The likelihood of some wandering stranger blundering onto the property was not probable but possible. Therefore, to discourage any exploration by the curious, the two creeks on the acreage were not bridged. Although the water was no more than a couple of feet deep, it was enough to keep anyone from wanting to venture farther in their automobile or truck. And just in case some weekend adventurer with his off-road vehicle showed up, roving teams of guards who appeared to be rather tough-looking farmers provided further dissuasion. These individuals were part of a large staff that performed security and service functions for the Farm. They were rotated every two weeks from the isolated assignment.
Persons who used it for official functions preferred to come by air, utilizing either the helicopter pad or a short airstrip in the center of the bucolic estate. The Farm's main building was a one-story, split-level rambling ranch house that seemed completely out of place. It appeared as if belonged more in a California suburb than the environment of rural Virginia.
Undersecretary of State Carl Joplin, PhD, was the only government official who maintained a permanent office in the place. His boss, Secretary of State Benjamin Bellingham, had not been assigned any space within the large house, nor had he ever been to the Farm, though he was aware of its existence. Like all other people who held his office, Bellingham's tenure in the nation's capital was not a permanent arrangement. He worked for a specific president and would be around only as long as his sponsor was in office. Joplin, on the other hand, had nothing to do with political appointments, and he had visited Custis Farm dozens of times during his career. He used it for meetings and discussions with unique persons who, for the most part, enjoyed extremely friendly and intimate working relationships with the U. S. government. A good number of defectors had enjoyed sanctuary on the Farm as they were debriefed and interviewed. When those processes were taken care of, the majority were given new identities and provided with official federal law enforcement protection.
On the other hand, there had also been a few special antagonists whose conduct or activities made it necessary that they be dealt in the most clandestine ways. Several of the latter ilk had never been seen again. They were the ones who were taken care of by those "farmhands" who had a sinister, sleepy-eyed look about them.
.
10 SEPTEMBER
CARL Joplin and his guest, Avigdor Peled, from the Israeli Embassy, had arrived at Custis Farm in an unmarked government helicopter. Circumstances made it impossible for them to use the Bonhomme Richard Club. The business to be conducted by the two men was much too complicated for a quick meeting.
Their flight to the Farm had begun in the late evening, at a small airport in the vicinity of Coleburg, Maryland. After landing and quickly settling in, the two went to the dining facility to enjoy a quiet pancake supper. After the meal, they retired to the main salon for coffee. Peled could not discuss any business with Joplin until he received confirmation by phone from his ambassador that he was cleared to do so.
When the call came, Peled was given the phone by one of the staff, who plugged it into the wall next to his chair. After identifying himself, the Israeli listened to a fifteen-second message. Then he hung up, looking over at Joplin.
"I am not cleared to speak with you until zero-six-forty-five tomorrow.
.
11 SEPTEMBER 0630 HOURS
JOPLIN and Peled, enjoying the relative coolness of the early morning, st
rolled through the woods a few dozen yards away from the house. Both men were dressed for the occasion, wearing light jackets, blue jeans, and sneakers. They had consumed continental breakfasts with plenty of coffee, and both were buoyed by heavy doses of caffeine.
Joplin knew that the reason his Israeli counterpart had requested the meeting at the Farm had to be of great import. But the man's attitude indicated there were no critical elements of urgency or time constraints involved. Or it could be that perhaps his people didn't want to give the Americans the opportunity to respond too quickly to whatever information he had to pass on. The Israelis were independent thinkers and doers, and did not appreciate nor seek any critiques of their various projects.
Peled had picked up a thin branch on the ground and walked with it, idly swinging it back and forth. Another five minutes of the stroll continued; then he checked his watch. Now was the time to get down to business.
"I am sure you are familiar with a certain Iranian Special Forces camp, Carl. In fact, we are informed that you have scored a victory of sorts on the border between Iran and Afghanistan."
Joplin smiled. "Tell me, Avigdor: Is there any place at all in this world where the Mossad does not have agents?"
Peled chuckled. "I know of none."
"Then you are aware that our aims there were fully met," Joplin said. "And, although it is not yet announced publicly, I am sure I would not surprise you if I said the Iranians are now ready to negotiate everything we've demanded of them."
"Yes," the Israeli said. "We are aware of those conditions. However--"
Joplin interrupted. "Uh-oh! Whenever you say 'however' I know you're going to lower the boom."
"We have irrefutable intelligence that Tehran has no serious intentions of negotiating anything with you," Peled said. "In fact, they are about to show their worst side to America, the world, and to us."
"What are our Persian antagonists going to do now?"
"They are going to invade Afghanistan," Peled said. "They backed off from that series of battles they had engaged in with your SEALs because they finally realized they would gain no advantages from the situation. Even now they have gathered leftover East German armor, artillery, and munitions to make a big strike that will carry them deep into that poor, backward country."
"How soon is this supposed to happen?" Joplin asked.
"We estimate that around the last of September or the first of October," Peled replied.
"Your revelation will be much appreciated," Joplin said. "If we move fast enough we'll be able to meet them head on."
"That won't be necessary," Peled said. He stopped walking and turned to face his friend. "We are going to bomb that camp. We'll be concentrating our strikes on the recently arrived military hardware assembled for the invasion."
"Oh, God!"
"The Iranians have gotten quite sassy since our confrontation with their Hezbollah stepchildren. The sons of bitches seem to think they won a great victory in Lebanon."
Joplin knew this would both please and displease the American government. He nervously cleared his throat. "Ahem. Please go on, Avigdor."
"We are going to fly into Iran's sovereign territory and plaster the treacherous bastards billeted at that camp," Peled remarked matter-of-factly. "We are going to pound them into smoking charcoal. And that information, dear Carl, is why I came to the Farm. Now you know. Please do us the favor of informing the President of the United States."
"I do believe he will be interested," Carl said, recovering slightly from the shock. "May I tell him the exact date and time that you plan this air strike?"
"That information we will keep to ourselves," Peled said. "Now! The matter is closed and is not open for negotiations or discussion." He gestured forward with the branch. "Shall we continue our stroll?"
"I really must get back to Washington, Avigdor."
The Israeli laughed. "I am not surprised."
.
OVAL OFFICE WHITE HOUSE
1500 HOURS
THE Aladdin Committee had been dissolved. The mysterious informer had made no transmissions for several weeks, and since the Iranians had now shown a much better attitude, the group was dismissed as per an executive order. The big item for that afternoon's impromptu session was to discuss the intelligence passed on to Carl Joplin by the Israelis earlier that morning.
The President of the United States was not happy. He looked at Joplin with near pleading in his eyes. "Isn't there a damn thing we can do about this aerial attack, Carl?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. President," the career diplomat answered. "That East German weaponry has convinced them that the fall of Afghanistan would be the first step in a long war that would eventually reach the borders of Israel."
The four others in the office--Arlene Entienne; Edgar Watson of the CIA; Liam Bentley, the FBI Liaison Officer; and Secretary of State Benjamin Bellingham--shared the chief executive's concern.
"It would be better if we could contact the Iranians and warn them," the President said. "If they found out we had diverted a bombing of their sovereign territory it would be a great incentive for them to be more cooperative."
"Yes!" Bellingham agreed. "It would convince them of the benefits of friendlier relations with the United States."
Joplin shook his head. "I don't think that will happen."
"I still don't like this bombardment," the President insisted. "You've proven in the past that you have contacts galore. Surely there is someone somewhere who can somehow call this Israeli air raid off."
"I'm sorry, sir," Joplin said. "The Israelis timed the revelation so that we would not have any feasible opportunities to circumvent their plans. They are bound and determined to get that particular thorn out of their sides. They think this is necessary to stifle any misleading feelings of triumph the Iranians may have because of their positive relationship with Hezbollah. The Israeli population is unhappy with the way their government dealt with the terrorist group in the past, and the leaders don't want additional disapproval that would result from an Iranian invasion of Afghanistan."
"Oh, God," Bellingham moaned. "The reaction from the Islamic world is going to be violent and long. And what about the UN? They're going to assume that we encouraged Israel in this act."
"As will the rest of the world," Arlene said.
"I'll tell you one thing for sure," Joplin said. "It certainly won't upset the American public."
The President's concern seemed to be growing with each passing moment. Now he turned his attention to Edgar Watson.
"What does the CIA have to say about the happenings in Iran?"
"The only such weapons shipments we are aware of were shipped to Belarus," Watson answered. "It is not known what happened to them after their arrival in that country."
"But would it be possible for that warmaking materiel to be sent farther south, into Iran?" Bellingham asked.
"It would have to go through several countries," Watson replied. "The Ukraine and Georgia first, then Armenia and Azerbaijan before crossing the border into Iran."
"The logistics of such a thing are staggering," Arlene remarked.
"Not only the logistics," Watson said, "but also the number of palms to be greased would be plentiful and greedy. However, with enough money . . ." He shrugged.
"But how did the Israelis learn about it?" the President asked.
"The Mossad has its eyes and ears in a lot of hidden corners throughout the world," Joplin said. "And if Israel says there is a big arms buildup in Iran for the invasion of Afghanistan, you can rely on it completely and irrevocably. And they are going to destroy it with an aerial attack."
"Oh, Christ!" the President said. "And not a thing we can do about it."
"Sir," Watson said, "the CIA has a suggestion. It is official and I've been authorized to pass it on in this meeting."
Bentley, the White House Liaison Officer from the FBI, finally spoke up. "The Bureau is aware of this suggestion and concurs, Mr. President."
"Don't keep
us waiting, damn it, Edgar, I am not a patient man this afternoon!"
"Alright, Mr. President," the CIA man said. "We recommend that the Brits join us in aiding the air raid. We have our AWACS aircraft, and the Royal Air Force has aerial refueling capabilities in the area."
"I second the motion," Joplin said. "It's going to happen anyway, so let's join in and make it easier for our Jewish friends."
The President sighed. "Alright. Do it."
Joplin wasn't finished. "Sir, there is one way we can take advantage of the situation. After the Israelis bomb the hell out of the place and level it, I advise you to send in some of our SPECOPS people to mop up and try to capture some EPWs."
"Yes, Watson agreed. "If these captives were shipped off to Barri Prison in Bahrain they will prove most invaluable. We have an interrogator there who could ring them dry in record time."
"That seems a good idea," the President allowed. "Is it feasible to expect a group of our guys to be able to get in and out of there fast and accomplish that mission?"
"Of course, sir," Arlene said. "That's why they're called Special Forces."
"It would require the best of the best then," the President said. He leaned back in his chair and became thoughtful for a moment. "Who should we deploy?"
"Only one outfit I know of, Mr. President," Joplin said. "Brannigan's Brigands."
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