by Vince Flynn
“Roger that,” someone said.
“Then use them right now, before they have a chance to call in what I just did.” Rapp watched as one of the Delta operators reached into the car and pulled out a LAW 80 rocket. He expertly extended it into firing position, stepped clear of the car and yelled, “Get down!”
Rapp dove for the pavement and before he hit the ground he heard the loud swooshing noise of the 94-mm rocket leaving the tube. A split second later there was an incredible explosion and the armored personnel carrier burst into flames. With debris still falling Rapp saw one of the other Delta operators run to the other side of the street with a second LAW in his hand. The man dropped to his knee in a doorway, acquired the second armored personnel carrier in his sights and fired.
Rapp covered his ears, the explosion lifting his body off the ground an inch. After a moment he scrambled to his feet. As machine-gun fire erupted he raced for the building and yelled, “Major Berg, our cover’s been blown, get up here ASAP!”
Rapp ran into the building and made it to the elevator. “Give me an update, Major.”
“We’ve got the bombs, or at least the parts that matter most.”
“Wax the guards and get up here,” said Rapp with urgency.
“What about the scientists?”
“Fuck!” He’d forgot about them. He looked around for a moment and said, “Bring ’em all up, and do it fast.”
“Roger.”
Rapp went back to the street. The shooting, at least for now, had stopped. Nervously, he looked at his watch and swore under his breath, wishing the rest of the team was already up here. The Delta operators had fanned out a bit and were scanning in every direction, ready to shoot anything that moved. Rapp headed back to the elevator and paced back and forth until the door opened. When it did, two Delta operators raced past him with the cart. Next, Dr. Lee stepped off, loudly protesting in English that the components were too fragile to be moved like this.
Rapp delivered a well placed left hook to the scientist’s jaw and grabbed him as he began to crumple. Tossing Lee over his shoulder, Rapp motioned for the other scientists to get off the elevator. They stood cowering in the corner as one of Major Berg’s men threw his satchel charge into the elevator and pressed the button to send it back down. The doors closed and the whine of the elevator could be heard as the cable unwound. Rapp backed out of the room and yelled at the other scientists, “Do not leave this room or you will be shot!”
With that he closed the door, went through the small room and out onto the street. Rapp dumped Lee’s body into the trunk of the last car and put a pair of flex cuffs on his wrists.
Berg appeared at his side. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“Dr. Lee is going to spend the next several years of his life telling us everything he knows about Saddam’s nuclear weapons program.”
Berg grinned. “Good idea. Now can we get the hell out of here?”
“Yep. Have one of your men close that door over there and set one more satchel charge with a thirty-second delay.”
Berg barked the orders in Arabic, and his men went to work. One by one they retreated to the vehicles and loaded up. The gunners standing in the sunroofs covered the withdrawal until the last man was in. Each car did a head count and Berg gave the order to move out.
The cars sped away from the burning vehicles to the sound of air raid sirens and antiaircraft guns, punctuated by the heavy explosions of bombs. The night sky was ablaze with tracer fire and the streets were empty. The bombing had driven people for cover. Moments later they turned onto Shari’ Al Urdun, another major thoroughfare, and punched it. Less than a mile later the road turned into Route 10, an empty six-lane highway. As Major Berg radioed Colonel Gray their status, the cars flew down the road at 110 mph toward the waiting choppers, safety, and success.
45
SITUATION ROOM, MONDAY AFTERNOON
Colonel Gray had informed General Flood via secure satellite uplink that the team had achieved their primary goal without any casualties and was en route to Scorpion I for extraction. The room erupted in a premature show of excitement that was quickly doused when the president reminded everyone that they weren’t out of the woods yet.
Hayes felt as if something was trying to eat its way out of his stomach. He was so tense he’d taken to pacing back and forth along one side of the conference table. While this may have helped the commander in chief relax a bit, it did little to comfort the others in the room. In the midst of the battle the president felt the walls closing in. This was, bar none, the boldest, most difficult decision of his political life. He knew without the slightest doubt that he’d made the right choice, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Israel had played him. They had sent Ben Freidman to Washington knowing full well that America wouldn’t ignore the information. If Israel were to take matters into their own hands and bomb Iraq it would shatter the Arab coalition that was organized against Saddam. Israel knew Hayes would have to act.
This somehow tainted everything he’d done during the last week. Robert Hayes was a proud man, and he wanted to do the right thing for the right reasons. He didn’t enjoy being played. He didn’t enjoy being caught up in other people’s schemes. In the midst of his pacing he came to a decision. Some things were going to change as soon as the mission was over. If it failed he was done. And not just kind of done, really done. The only way he was going to be able to put out the fire started by Congressman Rudin was with complete victory. Anything short of that and his enemies would ravage him. Hayes had no false illusions about the future. If Rapp and the Delta team failed to get out of Iraq with the nukes, he would be crucified.
As Hayes continued pacing he glanced over at the big board and stared at the five blue triangles west of Baghdad. If only they would start moving. The president’s eyes shifted to one of the other TVs which was showing CNN. His eyes squinted in genuine hatred at the man on the screen. Congressman Albert Rudin was on the screen ranting and raving about the bombing. Hayes had already caught his act on MSNBC twenty minutes earlier. He was sure that before the night was over Rudin would make his Wag the Dog innuendo on every network and cable outlet in America. The irritating ass was already asking for hearings into the bombings.
It was at that precise moment that President Hayes decided he was going to destroy Albert Rudin. It was the first and only time he’d ever been moved to such thoughts in his twenty-five-plus years of politics. But now he savored the thought of the absolute and utter destruction of Rudin’s political career. Rudin had been warned, not just by Hayes, but by the leaders of the party to back off and keep his mouth shut. He’d been admonished severely, yet he still continued. He would pay for his irritating insolence and stubborn self-righteousness. If Rapp and the Delta team could pull it off they would give Hayes the sword he needed to do the job, and if they failed, they’d be giving the sword to Rudin. Either way, only one of them would survive.
As Hayes turned to do another circuit behind the table, a sheaf of papers was shoved under his nose by his chief of staff, Valerie Jones. “Give this the once-over.”
The president took the four sheets of paper without comment and began reading them. He was relieved to have something to take his mind off the mission. Midway down the first page he stopped, and holding the sheets against the wall, he crossed out a word and inserted a different one. He was reading a statement written by Jones and White House Press Secretary Michelle Bernard. The press room upstairs was packed to the gills with reporters and photographers who were waiting for Bernard to fill them in on what was going on. Hayes quickly finished reading the pages and made just a few changes.
He handed them back to Jones and said, “It looks good. Add one more thing at the end, though.” Before Hayes could continue General Flood’s baritone voice filled the room.
“Mr. President, the extraction has been completed and the team is en route to Saudi Arabia.”
Hayes looked at Flood
and then the big screen. The five blue triangles that he’d been so concerned about were finally moving. With a smile on his face he looked back to the general and asked, “Every single person has been accounted for?”
Flood smiled back. “Every single person.”
Hayes felt like screaming for joy, but kept his composure. The extraction was the easy part. Surface-to-air missile batteries in the western Iraqi desert had just been pounded mercilessly for the last hour by planes and special forces personnel. The AWACS had reported that the missile threat to the planes had ceased. If there were any SAM sites left they’d be too afraid to draw any attention to themselves.
Turning to Jones and Bernard the president said, “Get upstairs and give the briefing, and when you’re done tell them I’ll address the nation tonight at nine o’clock.”
Jones stood first and said, “Slow down for a second. We need to discuss this.”
All the president could do was smile at his always cautious chief of staff. “It’s all right, Valerie. I know what I’m doing.”
“But, sir, you don’t even have a speech prepared.”
The president kept smiling as he ushered his two advisors toward the door. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m going to say.”
When he returned to the conference table General Flood motioned for the president to sit next to Kennedy. He leaned over and said, “Mr. President, we still have the flight of F-111s holding. What would you like to do?”
Hayes glanced over at the board for a second. He knew the secondary targets well. They’d selected four command and control bunkers and four of Saddam’s expansive presidential palaces. The folks over at the National Reconnaissance Office had chosen the palaces from a list of over twenty. They’d done so after studying thousands of photos. The four that they picked were the ones deemed most likely to be hiding production facilities for weapons of mass destruction. The president knew the time would never be better to strike. He had to balance the potential loss of civilian life against the possibility of delivering a crippling blow to Saddam. The superpenetrator bombs would decimate their targets. After a brief moment of consideration the president looked at Flood and said, “You have my authorization.”
Relieved by the president’s decision, Flood brought the phone to his mouth and said, “It’s a go.”
Kennedy placed a hand on the president’s arm. “Sir, we need to make some calls.”
Hayes sighed. The list was long, and he had a lot of explaining to do. Kennedy suggested that they should call Prime Minister Goldberg first and the president agreed. A moment later the two men were talking via a secure satellite uplink.
“Prime Minister Goldberg,” started the president.
“I’ve been waiting for your call, Mr. President,” answered a slightly irritated Israeli leader.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about the operation in advance, but for obvious reasons security has been very tight.”
Goldberg, in his typical short manner, chose not to acknowledge the president’s reason and instead asked, “Do you have any news to report?”
“I do,” replied Hayes. “Approximately an hour ago U.S. Special Forces personnel stormed the Al Hussein Hospital in Baghdad and achieved their primary objective. The weapons we were after are in our possession, and the facility has been destroyed without any damage to the hospital.”
There was an incredibly long period of silence on the line before a heartfelt Goldberg replied, “Mr. President, the country of Israel is forever indebted to you.”
The president smiled at Kennedy, who was listening on an extension. “That is very kind of you to say. I’m sorry I can’t talk long, but I’m looking forward to our visit next week.” The Israeli prime minister was due in town shortly for scheduled peace talks with the Palestinians.
“Are you sure my Arab neighbor will show up after what has happened tonight?”
“Oh, I’m sure Yasser will be here. I’m not going to sit on our little secret. I’m going to let all the world know what Saddam was up to.”
There was apprehension in Goldberg’s voice when he spoke. “I hope that my country’s role in this will not be mentioned.”
“I appreciate your concern, David, but that goes without saying.”
“You are a great ally to the Israeli people, Mr. President.”
“And Israel has been a great ally to the U.S.” Hayes said this with considerably less conviction than Goldberg had. The president looked at Kennedy who mouthed a name to him. Hayes nodded and spoke into the phone. “David, would you do me a favor and pass along my gratitude and apology to Colonel Freidman.”
“I would be happy to, but whatever in the world would you need to apologize for?”
“I gave him a bit of a chilly reception when he was in D.C. last week.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” laughed Goldberg. “I don’t think he expected you to be happy with the news he delivered.”
“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that I was less than hospitable. It was wrong to treat him the way I did and I would like to apologize. In fact, I think you should bring him along next week. America owes him a debt of gratitude, and I would like to thank him personally.”
“In light of the efforts you’ve made, Mr. President, I think Colonel Freidman would be honored by such a request.”
“Good then . . . tell the colonel that I look forward to thanking him in person next week. I have to run now, David.” The president listened to Goldberg thank him one more time and then he hung up the phone.
In an extremely rare show of emotion Irene Kennedy smiled and nodded her head in a show of satisfaction. “That was perfect, sir.”
46
THE WHITE HOUSE, MONDAY EVENING
The president had spent much of the last four hours trying to reassure his chief of staff that he was making the right decision to address the nation from the White House press room. Jones wanted him behind his desk in the Oval Office in a controlled environment. She wanted him reading a carefully scripted speech from a TelePrompTer so there was no room for error. No surprises from an overzealous reporter who might be looking to make a name for her or himself. No slipups by the commander in chief on an important issue. The situation was already delicate enough, and there was little room for error.
President Hayes strongly disagreed with his chief of staff. He knew that the truly great speeches, the ones that won people over, were given off the cuff, from the heart. Not when reading from some TelePrompTer. Sure, the historians with all of their diplomas would fawn over the great written speeches, but not the people, not the populace. They wanted you to act like a fellow citizen, not a robot. That’s what he would do tonight. He was at his best when he just stood up and let it fly.
The president was alone in the Oval Office, taking a moment to organize his thoughts before he went out in front of the cameras. On a legal pad he scratched out his major themes. Like a loosely scripted play he outlined the first, second and final act. It helped immensely that victory was complete. Rapp and the Delta team were safely back in Saudi Arabia with the nukes, and every air crew and special forces soldier was accounted for. His critics both domestically and internationally were still spouting off, taking him to task for the bombing. Either through innuendo or direct attack they were all saying the same thing; that he’d bombed Saddam for political cover. In a few minutes they would all look very petty.
A knock on the door interrupted the conclusion he was working on and then he remembered that he needed to speak to someone before the briefing started. “Come in.” The president stood and walked around his desk.
Kennedy entered the room with a very nervous looking Anna Rielly. The president met them halfway and directed them toward the couches by the fireplace. Hayes imagined that NBC was wondering why the president had asked for a private meeting with their White House correspondent just minutes prior to addressing the nation.
“Ladies, please sit.” Hayes sat on one couch and Kennedy and Rielly the other.
“Anna, Irene tells me you’ve had a very difficult week.”
Rielly, not wanting to talk about her personal life with the president, gave him a curt nod. The truth was it had been hell. If the entire matter in Milan hadn’t been bad enough, she’d had to deal with the deluge of phone calls from family, friends and coworkers after Congressman Rudin had showed Mitch’s photograph on national TV. The whole world now thought of him as an assassin.
“Well,” continued the president, “after all you’ve been through, I thought you deserved to know a few things before I go out there and address your colleagues.” The president paused briefly and then began explaining the events of the last week to a shocked Rielly.
THE WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM, MONDAY EVENING
PRESIDENT HAYES BOUNDED onto the platform at the front of the room like the young man he once was. Irene Kennedy, General Flood, Secretary of Defense Culbertson and National Security Advisor Haik stood behind him against the blue curtain backdrop. His chief of staff and press secretary stood just off to the side by the door. Hayes looked supremely confident.
The president gripped the podium with both hands and took a moment to look over the gallery of reporters jammed into the small room. “This afternoon I gave the order for our forces in the Persian Gulf to attack Iraq. I did not inform our allies prior to commencing military operations, and I informed only a few members of my Cabinet and only a handful of senators and congressmen. This was intentional on my part, and if you’ll bear with me for a moment I’ll explain why I went to such great lengths to keep this attack a secret.”
The president paused to sip from a glass of water sitting under the podium. He wanted the tension to build. “It should come as no surprise to any of us that Saddam Hussein has been on a quest to develop and obtain weapons of mass destruction for some time. Well, last week I was confronted with a horrifying reality. I was informed that Saddam was less than a month away from having three fully operational nuclear weapons.” The president stopped and looked out across the hushed room. “It seems that for the past several years he has been developing these nuclear weapons with the help of Park Chow Lee, a North Korean nuclear physicist.”