3 Great Thrillers

by Churton, Alex; Churton, Toby; Locke, John; Lustbader, Eric van; van Lustbader, Eric

  Kellner nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. Right. OK… But before I go into that I’d like to tell y’all that—’

  ‘Sir?’ The driver interrupted them.

  ‘What is it, Agent Keane?’

  ‘Shall I drive to Langley, sir?’

  ‘Yeah, but take it easy. Enjoy the ride.’

  ‘Yessir.’

  ‘Leanne, Sherman, I’m proud to tell you that we’ve traced our informant. The message about our friend in California came from Germany. Hamburg to be exact.

  ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs Gresham, I’m going to put up the dividing screen.’ Kellner pointed playfully at the driver and pressed a button. In a few seconds, Beck and Kellner were in a sealed environment.

  ‘Now, Beck, consider this space a confessional.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I’m not sayin’ I’m guilty or anything, but you know a priest would rather die than reveal a confession.’

  ‘In theory, sir.’

  ‘Yeah. Well here is no theory. You get my meaning?’

  Beck nodded.

  ‘Good. Now take your eyes off the brown dirt and green leaves of north Virginia and look closely at my lips. You are going to hear some facts. Of a very secret nature.’

  Beck took a deep breath and nodded.

  ‘Good, Beck. I can tell you’re taking this seriously. Now, many people have asked this question: why was it, when the Coalition had the Iraqi army on the run from Kuwait in the first Gulf War, that we did not finish Saddam off once and for all?’

  ‘Are you asking me the question, sir?’

  ‘Can you answer it?’

  ‘A number of factors, sir. I mean, first and foremost, the Iraqi army was willing to surrender. Also, the terms of the UN Resolutions. They covered ejecting Iraq from Kuwait, but not toppling the regime. We had a famous victory with minimal loss of life. Invasion of Iraq had presumably not been planned for in any detail, and casualties might have been politically difficult to sustain. Then there’s world opinion and the issue of the balance of power in the Mid-East, sir. Unpredictable consequences. Relations with the Saudis. In short, sir, while the opportunity was ripe, there may have been too many unpredictable factors. There was of course the hope of an Iraqi uprising against their dictator. I guess there was talk of generals mutinying against Saddam and stuff like that. Restraint seemed appropriate. Colin Powell’s style, sir.’

  ‘I’m impressed, Beck. Again. Do tell me when you’re applying for my job. I’d like to know in advance.’

  Beck laughed modestly.

  ‘All right, Sherman. That’s a pretty good summary of what we might call the external position.’

  ‘External position, sir?’

  ‘There was another factor. Back in 1990, the CIA had intelligence – mainly from the Israelis – that Saddam was working on a new weapon.’

  ‘The super gun, sir?’

  ‘That’s the one you could talk about, Beck. The Agency began to hear about an amazing dude workin’ on the Iraqi chemical and biological programme.’

  ‘Dr Sami al-Qasr?’

  ‘You got it. Do you get the rest?’

  Beck closed his eyes and thought hard for a few seconds. ‘A DNA weapon.’

  ‘A DNA selective weapon. Details varied. But Saddam was very clever. He could be, you know. He didn’t threaten the United States directly. He didn’t say, “March on Baghdad and I’ll hit you with something you never even heard of.” What he did was this. He knew the Israelis had a spy at al-Tuwaitha. So he seeded just sufficient information to get the Mossad on the hotline and give Uncle Sam the willies.’

  ‘And did it?’

  ‘You betcha. This was something we just hadn’t bargained for. You could say this was the moment when the term “Weapons of Mass Destruction” came into its own. For the handful of us who knew about the situation, WMD was mainly a euphemism—’

  ‘For Sami al-Qasr.’

  ‘Right. You got it. Now, we couldn’t go on air and tell the world about this thing. Why do you think that was, Beck?’

  ‘Because we wanted it ourselves.’

  ‘Right. We wanted it ourselves. And we didn’t want anyone to know we wanted it. You may recall how much power having the atomic bomb gave us when nobody knew we had it. Well, we lost that advantage soon enough after we dropped the bomb, though for a while we were still ahead, because no one else had it. Then, thanks to the KGB, we lost that as well. Before al-Qasr, we hadn’t experienced that kind of power for a long, long time. And what we wanted, it looked like Iraq had. But we couldn’t just ask them, “Hey, do you have a terrifying DNA-altering weapon?” All we could do was try to find out if it was possible that they were so far ahead of us on that. Need I say that when information on al-Qasr started coming in, there were a lot of butts fidgeting around when it came to deciding: Do we go for Baghdad this year?’

  ‘Jeez!’ Beck shook his head in disbelief. ‘You telling me that because of this guy…?’

  Kellner nodded. ‘I guess I am.’

  Beck took time absorbing the information. ‘But that means…’

  ‘Go on, Beck. Do my thinking for me.’

  ‘But when al-Qasr came over to the US in 1992, why didn’t we invade?’

  ‘You’re on the right lines. Keep thinking.’

  ‘OK. So al-Qasr comes over; he’s debriefed. And he tells our people that he’s left in a hurry and a lot of his work is still in Saddam’s hands, and they’re still workin’ on it, and without him the US will never catch up.’

  ‘Getting warmer.’

  ‘And he says that in 1990 the threat was exaggerated, but the potential for development was there.’

  ‘Boy, you’re getting warm.’

  ‘But the US would need to develop the counter weapon – and there’s no need to invade immediately because they’re still a few years away from battlefield deployment. The heat’s off. Anyhow, the UN has gone in. And guys like the Brit David Kelly are on the case.’

  ‘You are hot, Beck. I’m thinking of promoting you right now.’

  ‘But Saddam starts pissing with the UN inspection team. And we start wondering if he’s got something up his sleeve. The Israelis are getting anxious. And – 9/11…’

  ‘9/11. The issue of WMD shoots right up into the stratosphere. So the plan to invade is hatched. The ostensible purpose – well, you know all about that.’

  ‘And the government has to allow the Iraq Survey Group to throw egg on its face.’

  ‘Right, Beck. Because the US does not want it to be known that the weapon they were searching for really does exist.’

  Beck’s jaw dropped. ‘So all that stuff about going to war on a false prospectus – and the Michael Moore film and all that stuff that suggested incompetence…’

  ‘Just had to be taken on the chin, son. I guess it always will. Why d’ya think Colin Powell – in spite of everything – still supported the war?

  ‘That’s the thing you gotta understand about a secret weapon, Beck. It’s only powerful when it’s secret. Get it?’

  ‘Just one question, sir?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Did the Iraqis have the weapon?’

  Kellner smiled. ‘What d’ya think?’

  44

  Highway 2, Iraq

  ‘Saddam certainly liked his highways, Vinny.’

  ‘Yeah, Major. Like Hitler liked his autobahns.’ Vinny gazed into the featureless desert as they raced along Highway 2 towards Mosul. He had a thought. ‘Stalin was Saddam’s hero, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So, Major, why didn’t Stalin make a name for himself with highways across the Soviet Bloc?’

  ‘Yeah… Interesting question, Vinny. Dr Ashe, why didn’t Stalin make a name for himself in road transport?’

  Ashe snapped out of the reverie induced by the dull hum of speeding along the well-metalled road. ‘Two reasons immediately spring to mind.’

  ‘Don’tcha just love this guy? Always something springing to mind! Jeez! You’ve go
t some fuckin’ spring in there, bud!’

  ‘I suppose the first requirement for a motorway is a car.’

  Richmond stifled a laugh.

  Vinny was agog. ‘Boy’s a genius!’

  Ashe continued. ‘I just don’t think Hitler and Saddam were intimidated by private car ownership.’

  Vinny cracked up.

  ‘Quiet a second, Vinny!’ Richmond’s face froze. ‘Something’s happened.’ The major tapped the side of his helmet. ‘Come on! Fucking thing!’ The transmission was faulty. ‘It’s… MND North. Blue Force in the vicinity. Call’s gone out for Brigade Combat Teams. I’m getting a coordinate.’ Richmond magnified the scale of his electronic route plan, then hit the Merc’s horn four times. The Humvee in front slowed down.

  Zappa switched the CD player off.

  Silence… as if the planet’s loudspeakers had been suddenly cut. A violent peace. The desert was full of silence; nothingness.

  A US soldier unwrapped the tarpaulin sheets from the mounted guns on the Humvee in front, then unclipped the leather case off the M249 squad automatic weapon. He unhooked an ammo box and started threading the magazine into the firing chamber.

  Richmond opened the driver’s door and called up to the driver in front. ‘I’m getting out. Bring your Operation Map with you!’

  A soldier from the Humvee behind ran up to the tail area of the Humvee in front and started preparing the larger-calibre M240B machine gun.

  ‘See that, Toby?’

  ‘I seem to recall seeing something like that at the roadblock yesterday.’

  ‘Latest issue. It’s got a range of about 1.6 kilometres.’

  ‘Accuracy?’

  ‘About 800 metres pinpoint lethal – with an experienced crew.’

  ‘Rate of fire?’

  ‘He’ll get 600 rounds a minute. That’s what Bob Dylan calls “a hard rain”, Dr Toby.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s not going to fall. What about the other gun?’

  ‘That’s an M249, a one-man operated weapon. Good to 600 metres – but the firepower’s more intense.’

  ‘How much more intense?’

  ‘750 rounds a minute. So you just relax there.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Before you do, try feeling under your seat… Yeah, that’s it. You got it. Can you feel the clip?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘You’ve gotten yourself there an M4 carbine, Dr Toby. Know how to use it?’

  ‘Did the course, Vinny.’

  ‘Feel ready?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Major Richmond will explain everything.’

  ‘May I relax now?’

  ‘Just keep your seat dry.’

  Zappa unclipped his own M4.

  ‘Vinny?’

  ‘Toby?’

  ‘What was all that about Blue Force?’

  ‘They didn’t tell you that?’

  ‘I took the economy course.’

  ‘OK, it’s like this. Blue Force: good. Red Force…’ Vinny shook his head. ‘Red Force: bad.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘See that box on the dash, just below the wheel?’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘That’s a Blue Force tracker. Major Richmond has one attached to his epaulette.’

  ‘Ah… That’s what that was. I suppose it’s replaced the customary parrot.’

  ‘It’s a global positioning system. It means someone knows where we are. It means we know when the bad guys are close. And it means we can call on the—’

  ‘Blue Force.’

  ‘Right. Blue Force – if we need assistance.’

  ‘What’s the method?’

  ‘See those buttons there. Nice and finger-shaped. You press all four buttons, three times. Four and three. You got that?’

  ‘Do I need to know?’

  Zappa looked at him seriously. ‘You may need to know, Toby.’

  ‘Four buttons, three times. Right.’

  ‘Now, what the good major is doing with the corporal in front there, is checking coordinates for the presence of Blue Force in the vicinity. On the basis that this probably means there’s also something not good going on.’

  ‘I get the idea, Vinny. We’re in the shit.’

  ‘If you mean we should prepare for all eventualities, you are correct.’

  Ashe sat back in his seat. To the left of him: nothing. Sand, sand and more sand. And to the right? There might as well have been a mirror on the side of the road.

  Sweating like a wet peach, Richmond climbed back inside the air-conditioned Merc.

  ‘It would appear, gentlemen—’

  ‘Here it comes.’

  ‘That a British troop transporter, carrying mainly US troops, has gone down some miles west of here. There’s a turn-off to the right in about fifteen kilometres – a turning for Irbil – which right now is a highly sensitive area. That’s where the plane was heading. We’ve been requested to investigate the area where the aircraft lost contact with base.’

  ‘By ourselves, Major?’

  ‘No, there’s a Blue Force presence already in the vicinity. Composition unknown.’

  ‘That’s strange.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Anyhow, I could get no further details.’

  Ashe closed his eyes. This was just the kind of open-ended scenario he’d been dreading. Then again, no one else was jumping for joy either.

  ‘Just what is the mission here, Major?’

  ‘Investigate the crash site – if there is a crash site; recover any survivors – if there are any survivors; submit a report on completion of task, and carry on to Mosul, pending further developments.’

  ‘Like we get to play heroes, right?’

  ‘We get to be soldiers, Vinny. Or, what is even more likely, nothing happens.’

  ‘You wanna bet?’

  ‘Corporal Pinsker’s leading the way. Sergeant Bolton’s following up behind. What could be nicer?’

  The word ‘nicer’ rang in Ashe’s ears. He thought of Melissa, then dismissed the thought.

  ‘Major, you need two guys on the M240. Toby, are you listening?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you listening?’

  ‘Er… yeah, two guys on the M240.’

  ‘Right. You need two guys on the M240. We’ve got four guys, plus ourselves and the interpreter. Basic math tells me that if we’re gonna need the M249 as well, one of us should go up ahead.’

  ‘Do I hear the voice of a volunteer, Vinny?’

  ‘Me and my big mouth! I must be nuts!’

  ‘No, Zap. We’re all nuts. But your nuts are bigger than ours, that’s all.’

  45

  Ashe stared at the flat horizon. That overused word ‘infinity’ dropped into his head; he recoiled from it. That which was welcome at death was no friend to the living. The word ‘desert’ was too close to the word ‘lost’ for comfort. Ashe became aware his teeth were grinding as he tried to get a sense of himself and where he was. What had appeared from the highway as sand was mostly hard-baked earth littered with loose stones and rocks. Sand was scattered over the surface like pepper on a pizza. It made for a bumpy ride and a nagging heckle of irritating gear changes.

  The rocking and rolling made loading the M4 difficult; Ashe’s fingers were shaking. Richmond told him there was a spare combat jacket stuffed into the corner under his seat: useful for additional magazines. Ashe looked for a quip to lighten the atmosphere, but nothing came.

  The truth was dawning: Richmond was less than optimistic about returning to the main road without incident. The tension inside the vehicle rose; the CD was left switched off without comment.

  Mile after mile, they advanced northwest to the coordinates of the supposed troop-plane crash site – or, hopefully, the site of a crash landing – halfway between the main road to Mosul and Tel Afar, sixty miles away.

  Richmond, observing Ashe through the rear-view mirror, could see he was nervous. Richmond was an experienced morale-builder, but his tech
niques were normally used on trained soldiers. Soldiers could be reminded of shared training experiences, encouraged to remember that they were more than ready for action; they could depend on one another. Ashe had not imbibed the ethos of regimental solidarity, tradition and discipline.

  ‘I’m going to stop the convoy in a second, Toby.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ shot back Ashe, nervously.

  Richmond surmised that Ashe was moving fast towards a knife’s edge of anxiety, without the training to control it. The experience was entirely new to him.

  ‘Tell me how you feel, Toby.’

  ‘Sorry, Simon. It’s a bit… I’m a bit hot in here, that’s all.’

  The air-con was on full blast.

  ‘Vinny’s a one, isn’t he Toby? Always makes everything sound so easy. Look at him out there on that gun. He’s loving every living minute of it. But, I tell you, he’s as afraid as you are.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It’s natural. He just knows a few tricks to keep it under control. Try something?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Take some deep breaths. As you do, make a picture of something here you’re afraid of. Now let it come over you. It won’t hurt you. Let it pass through you; don’t resist it. It’s a picture, a fear. How’s the breathing going?’

  ‘Difficult.’

  ‘Gets easier. Don’t bother resisting what you fear. Face it, but don’t oppose it.’

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Yeah, fuck.’

  Ashe tried to breathe deeply. He hadn’t realised how short his breaths had become.

  ‘You’re doing fine. Give your brain some of that oxygen. Now hold it in. A few seconds. Now let it out very slowly. Slowly… Good. Trust me. Anyone can see you’ve got what it takes.’

  ‘Are you sure, Simon?’

  ‘As sure as you’re gonna be.’

  ‘I’ve never killed anyone.’

  ‘Just breathe deeply. Let the air out slowly. That’s it. The fear is washing over you. But you are a rock. You didn’t know it before. But you’re a rock.’

  ‘And this… is a hard place.’