Thus, while the architect may have seen unity in the Iraqi people, the reality told a different story. They were a fractured, disorganized, and exploited people.
However, the architect had gotten one thing right. The Iraqis were a strong people, and if they were successful in ignoring outside influences, I envisioned a day when they’d become a united people.
That dream, held by many Iraqis, was still a long way off.
In the meantime, the Iraqi Parliament was continually in session all year—except for one month during the summer—hammering out legislation that would move their country forward.
The schedule for members of the Iraqi Parliament was far different from the schedule for members of the U.S. Congress, but the Iraqi legislators had a powerful incentive to show up for work every day.
Unless they showed up, they didn’t get paid.
With that in mind, after we were escorted into the parliamentary chamber, I began scanning the faces of the legislators in the room in an effort to locate Ammar Bakir.
I wasn’t able to find him, but since our escort had told us the session wouldn’t convene for another thirty minutes, I figured he hadn’t arrived yet.
“Are you looking for Ammar?” Garrison asked.
I nodded. “He saw me at the teahouse the other day, and while he didn’t seem to pay any attention to me, I’d like to know where his seat is located so I can avoid him.”
“The clerk has a seating chart for the legislators. I’ll get it for you.”
While Garrison was walking down to the front of the chamber where the clerk’s desk was located, I continued to scan the seats.
My task was fairly easy because the chamber had been built in a semicircle formation with the legislators’ seats on risers facing the speaker’s podium. For my part, it was only a matter of going row by row, systematically glancing at their faces.
After I’d completed one section and was about to begin another, I spotted Mitchell and Liz at the end of one row talking to our escort Zaid. He was pointing out the different features of the building.
When we’d met Zaid in the atrium, Garrison and I had begged off taking the tour Zaid had been instructed to give us.
We’d each come up with our own excuse. I’d told Zaid I needed to find a restroom, and Garrison had told him he knew his way around the building already.
I’d lied about the restroom.
I wasn’t necessarily opposed to taking the tour, but I had a feeling I should stick around the chamber.
Actually, it was more than just a feeling; it was a definite impression, it was my gut instinct on steroids.
I’d felt it the moment Khalili had mentioned Prime Minister Madi was planning to make an appearance in the chamber.
As I continued scanning the rows of legislators looking for Ammar, I thought back to the reasons Abbas Alviri had given Mitchell as to why the Iranians wouldn’t have hired Yousef Bakir to assassinate Prime Minister Madi.
Were those reasons valid? Did they make sense?
Did the Iranian regime really believe Prime Minister Madi would eventually become their puppet? Did they think he would actually give his allegiance to them and denounce all ties to the United States?
What if the leadership in the Quds Force had come to the conclusion it was easier to get rid of Abdul Madi and start over?
What if Alviri was wrong, and Yousef Bakir was in Baghdad to assassinate the Prime Minister?
What if Yousef was on his way over to the Green Zone to murder the Prime Minister at this very moment?
I took a deep breath.
Was I overthinking this?
I prayed for wisdom.
Seconds later, I realized I was overlooking an important detail.
I’d forgotten what Khalili had told us about Prime Minister Madi’s appearance in the chamber. He’d mentioned it was a last-minute decision. It hadn’t been on his schedule.
Since Yousef didn’t know the Prime Minister would be making an appearance at the parliament today, there was no reason to believe he was on his way over to the Green Zone to carry out an assassination.
Of course, someone could have informed Yousef about Madi’s last-minute decision, but I considered that a remote possibility, especially when I factored in the textbooks Yousef had been reading.
I was positive those textbooks had some bearing on Yousef’s mission, yet I couldn’t come up with any connection between Prime Minister Madi and the textbooks.
I did, however, see a very definite connection between Yousef’s interest in American politics and the American President.
As I finished scanning through the rows of seats, I had to admit I was back at square one—square one being my conclusion Yousef Bakir was either in Baghdad to assassinate the U.S. President, possibly the Crown Prince, but definitely not the Iraqi Prime Minister.
Even though I was certain my conclusion was the right one, it didn’t explain what had triggered the neurons in my brain to fire across the synapses and flood my cerebral cortex with cautionary messages.
I finally decided those messages could be related to my inability to locate Ammar, but I didn’t think I’d have time to go through the whole scanning process again before the session was called to order.
About a minute later, when I saw several groups of legislators entering the chamber, I decided what I needed was the seating chart Garrison had promised me.
I looked towards the front of the chamber, where the clerk’s desk was located, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
That was strange.
Where was he?
* * * *
It took me a few minutes to find Garrison because he was standing in front of the speaker’s podium having a conversation with two Iraqi men who weren’t dressed in Western clothing like most of the men in the chamber. Instead, they were wearing the traditional Arab robe and head covering.
Since Garrison had his back to me, and I wasn’t able to get his attention, I started walking down the aisle toward the clerk’s desk to see if I could just pick up a seating chart for myself.
Then, I noticed Liz and Mitchell were standing with Zaid a few feet away from Garrison.
I caught Mitchell’s eye and motioned toward Garrison.
He nodded and glanced over at Garrison, but when he looked back at me again, I was mystified by the expression I saw on his face.
He looked horrified.
Suddenly, he pointed at me, or rather he pointed at a spot over my left shoulder.
That’s when I heard two shots ring out.
Pew! Pew!
I instinctively pulled my Glock out of my holster and chambered a round as I pivoted toward the sound of the gunfire.
Standing at the back of the room holding the H&K in the firing position was Yousef Bakir.
Suddenly, chaos ensued.
I couldn’t get a clean shot.
People begin to panic.
I still couldn’t get a clean shot.
Some scrambled for cover; a few were frozen in place; others ran.
One man attempted to rush toward Yousef.
Yousef shot him.
Twice.
Yousef quickly spun around, took two more shots in the direction of the speaker’s platform, and fled.
I raced after him.
* * * *
Yousef headed out the front entrance of the Parliament Building and started running toward a construction area. He was so far ahead of me, I didn’t think he knew I was following him.
I glanced around to see if Mitchell and Liz were behind me, but there was no sign of them.
I didn’t want to think about what that might mean.
Yousef ran over to a building still under construction and ducked inside.
All the exterior walls were up, and when I eased my way inside, I smelled fresh paint, although there weren’t any workers around.
And, there was no sign of Yousef.
I made my way down a narrow passageway and entered what appeared to be an off
ice space. When I realized there was no outlet, I turned to leave.
Suddenly, I felt the barrel of an H&K pistol at the back of my head.
“Drop your gun.”
I’d never heard Yousef speak English before.
He had no accent.
I dropped my gun.
“Turn around. Show me your hands.”
I raised my hands as I slowly turned toward Yousef.
I noticed he had his brother’s security badge around his neck.
He stepped back from me but kept the gun pointed at my head.
I felt perfectly calm.
God’s got this.
I heard the words echoing in my head.
I knew I was seconds away from dying, yet I felt shrouded in a peacefulness I couldn’t explain.
I said a prayer for Nikki.
I said a prayer for Eleanor.
God’s got this.
As I was praying, Kasim suddenly appeared from out of the shadows and put a bullet in the back of Yousef’s head.
Yousef Bakir fell at my feet.
He jerked once; then he was dead.
Chapter 34
After retrieving my gun, I immediately asked Kasim what he was doing in the building.
“I was parked in the lot behind the building here just waiting to drive everyone back to the embassy, when I thought I heard shots coming from the Parliament Building. I tried to get Henry on his cell phone, but then I saw Yousef running out of the building and heading over here. A few seconds later, I saw you coming after him so I followed you. As you Americans say, the rest is history.”
“You saved my life, Kasim.”
“Many Americans have given their lives for my country. I feel privileged I was able to save yours.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“You should go now. I’ll stay here and tell security what happened. Don’t worry. I’ll leave you out of it.”
I bent down and quickly went through Yousef’s pockets, removing a cell phone and a French passport, and then I took Kasim up on his offer and left through a side door.
I heard Kasim calling security as I left.
The entire area around the Parliament Building was now swarming with police officers, soldiers from the Iraqi military, members of the Iraqi swat team, and emergency responders.
I spotted Liz standing by an ambulance near the front of the building. When I got closer, I realized she was covered in blood.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “This isn’t my blood.” She pointed at the ambulance. “It belongs to Ben. He’s been shot.”
I hurried around to the back of the ambulance and looked inside.
Ben was lying on a gurney with his left leg covered in blood.
He propped himself up on one elbow, gave me a weak smile, and said, “Well, did you get him?”
“He’s dead,” I said, “but it was actually Kasim who shot him.” I gestured at his leg. “How bad is it?”
“The EMT said it didn’t look that bad. I’ll need surgery to remove the bullet, but I should be fine after that.”
“Did you get hit by a ricochet?”
“No, I’m sure Yousef was aiming directly at me. He saw me going for my gun after he shot Henry. I’m just thankful his aim was a little off.”
“Henry? Is he—”
Mitchell nodded. “Yousef killed him.”
* * * *
The EMT guy said they were taking Mitchell to the Al-Kadymia Hospital, but when they asked me if I wanted to ride in the ambulance with him, I suggested Liz go instead. When she got inside, I promised I’d come see him when he was out of surgery.
As the ambulance drove off, I saw Madi’s chief of staff, Salah Khalili, walking toward me. He wasn’t alone. A blonde-haired guy dressed in a dark blue suit was with him. I was pretty sure he was an American.
“Are you okay, Mr. McHughes?” Khalili asked. “I didn’t see you inside the chamber.”
“I’m a little shaken up, but otherwise I’m fine.”
The blonde-haired guy offered me his hand. “I’m Antonio Richey, Deputy Chief of Mission here at the American Embassy. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I shook his hand. “No, I don’t believe we have. I’m Warren McHughes. I’m with the Advance Preparation Team from the White House chief of staff’s office. My team and I were here touring the Parliament Building.”
“Oh, I apologize,” Khalili said. “I thought you two knew each other. I called Mr. Richey as soon as I realized there were American casualties in the terrorist attack.”
“Was anyone killed besides Henry?” I asked.
Richey spoke up. “No, just Henry.”
Khalili said, “In another thirty minutes, the Prime Minister would have been standing behind the speaker’s podium.” He shook his head. “Now wouldn’t that have been tragic?”
“It’s pretty tragic that Henry was killed,” I said. “If you don’t realize that, Mr. Khalili, then—”
“Mr. McHughes,” Richey said, cutting me off, “could I give you a ride back to the embassy? If Mr. Khalili needs you for anything else, he can contact our office.”
Richey directed me over to a black Cadillac Escalade parked in the circle drive in front of the Executive Building. As soon as Richey’s driver saw us coming, he got out and held the door open for us.
Once we were inside, Richey turned to me and said, “Am I correct in assuming your real name isn’t Warren McHughes?”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because we both know Henry Garrison wasn’t just the embassy’s senior political officer. He also worked for the CIA. Believe me, I’m sorry I have to put that in the past tense.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I didn’t say anything else.
“Okay,” Richey finally said. “I’m not asking you to tell me your real name, and I don’t even want to know what you and your team were doing at the Parliament Building. But tell me one thing. Was that a terrorist attack?”
“No, Mr. Richey, it wasn’t a terrorist attack. Henry Garrison was assassinated. It was an assassination directed by the Quds Force in Tehran and carried out by a Muslim Brotherhood contract killer.”
He stared at me. “Since you know so much about it, I’m guessing you were supposed to stop this assassin before he was able to carry out his assignment.”
“That’s right. Unfortunately I didn’t identify his target correctly. I never even considered it could be Henry. He didn’t meet the criteria.”
“What was the criteria?”
“A high-profile government official; a political figure, someone who was advising the Iraqis to pursue a different agenda other than the one offered by Tehran; probably an American, but if not an American, then someone who supports the American agenda in Iraq.”
“With that criteria, you were probably thinking of the President. I’ve heard rumors he might drop in on us on his way to Israel.”
I nodded. “Since the Saudi Prince arrives tomorrow, I was even considering him, even though he’s obviously not an American.”
“If you think about it, except for the part about being a high-profile official, Henry actually did meet the criteria. And here’s something you may not have known about Henry; as the embassy’s senior political officer, he’d developed relationships with all the top-ranking politicians in the parliament. I’m sure many Iraqi government officials actually did see Henry as a high-profile American political figure.”
“Would that be true of Mr. Khalili?”
“I’m sure it would, even though I know for a fact Mr. Khalili is much more pro-Iranian than he is pro-American.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. When we were in his office, I noticed he had a whole bookcase full of books on American economics, capitalism, education, you name it. He and Henry even talked about the latest American political scandal.”
“That’s probably because he was educated at an American university. Believe me, he’s made his pro-Iran
ian views known to me numerous times.”
As we drove into the embassy compound, Richey asked me if I wanted to be dropped off at the Comms Center.
I told him no.
“Would you mind taking me to the chancery?” I asked.
“You don’t want to see the Ambassador, do you?”
“No, I need access to The Bubble.”
* * * *
The Bubble looked exactly the same as it had a few days ago when Garrison was being briefed on Operation Invisible Target.
At that time, he’d been sitting at the conference table in The Bubble, and I’d been sitting at the conference table in the Ops Center at Langley.
Garrison had told us the reason he was in The Bubble instead of the Comms Center was that he needed some privacy.
Now, I was in The Bubble for the same reason. I wanted to speak to Carlton in private, not in the Comms Center.
However, before I contacted Carlton, I called Garrison’s surveillance crew chief, Sean Quinn. I wasn’t calling to tell him about Garrison. I figured he already knew about the shooting since Jennifer had intel available to her from dozens of sources.
“What’s going on with you, Titus?” Quinn asked when he picked up. “Jennifer said there’d been a shooting at the Parliament Building. She said she was sure Henry was dead. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. Ben was also shot, but it’s only a leg wound, and he’s already been taken to the hospital. Liz is with him.”
“Jennifer thinks the shooter was Yousef. Can you confirm that?”
“Yes, I can confirm that. I can also confirm he’s dead.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll give you the details later. Right now, I need you to get over to the government complex and see if you can locate the vehicle Yousef was driving. I believe it might be registered to Ammar.”
“You’re right. Jennifer just told me the Ops Center was able to enhance the video from the parking garage, and they identified one of the cars leaving the garage as belonging to Ammar. My crew tells me there’s been no activity at Ammar’s house today.”
“It’s only been an hour since the shooting, so I doubt if the Iraqi police have located Yousef’s vehicle yet. As long as it poses no danger to you, take a look inside and remove anything that looks interesting.”
Two Steps Forward Page 32