The Devil's Handshake (2 page)

This intelligence was as good as it got. It
had come from a source deep inside the PLO who had visited the site
with Yasser Arafat earlier in the year and just four months before
Saddam had invaded Kuwait. As was usual in human intelligence, the
information was treated with skepticism because up to that point it
was believed that the Iraqis hadn’t mastered the fuse technology
and trigger mechanism that would be needed to detonate a warhead.
That had quickly changed though when the Scuds started their reign
of terror.

“
Come on Walid,” Ali had
said to the asset in the small Tunis café over a cup of sweet
coffee. “Why would Saddam show Yasser such an important place and
risk operational security?” “Because he is desperate, Habib,” Walid
had replied before going on to explain to Ali that the Iraqi leader
needed Arafat to join him politically when he made his move against
the Kuwaitis, who, as Iraq’s biggest creditor, had begun putting
international pressure on Iraq to pay back the eighty billion
dollars he had borrowed from Kuwait to act as a security buffer
against Iran.

“
Okay, I can just about buy
that,” Ali had answered at the time. The President of Iraq was
always one for grand gestures designed to show his military power
even to the point of comparing himself as a modern day
reincarnation of Nebuchadnezzar, a sixth century B.C. Babylonian
king who had built his kingdom into the most powerful nation in the
world by ruthlessly annexing the neighboring countries around his
own.

“
But an invasion!” he had
said, not quite believing even Saddam would go that far. “Listen to
these, then make up your mind,” the source had answered, handing
over to Ali the set of tapes that Arafat had asked him to
transcribe from the small personal tape recorder he had carried on
him throughout his meetings and visits to the facilities with
Saddam. That meant this intelligence alone was pure
gold.

Yet it was only when Ali had returned to
Langley from Tunis with the tape recordings and had heard the
voices on the tapes that the asset had bravely copied, did both
David and he change their minds; Leaving them in no doubt that it
was just a question of when the invasion was going to happen, not
if!

“
Iraq has the chemical
weapons it successfully used against the Iranians during the
eight-year War, and I promise you, my dear, I won’t hesitate to use
them against Tel Aviv,” Saddam’s voice had said on the tape. “This
missile enables us to strike at Israel.”

“
You mean military targets?”
Arafat had asked. “No, my dear, we consider every city within
Israel a target!”

“
When will you use such a
weapon, my friend?” the Leader of the PLO had fawningly
replied.

“
It will be kept in reserve
so as to deter the Americans or the Israelis from using their
chemical, biological, or nuclear weapons on the homeland and to
prevent any invader from ever marching on Baghdad,” the President
of Iraq had said proudly and with authority.

“
Ali,” David had said,
pausing the tape for a moment. “We need to confirm where and how
many of these missiles Saddam has!” he had instructed.

“
Walid indicated that this
was the only one so far.”

“
How is he so sure?” David
had asked.

“
According to
Arafat?”

“
Yes!” Answered Ali, “It
seemed Saddam indicated to Yasser that he had been experiencing
problems getting the necessary software microchip for the missile,”
He then continued in an effort try to put his superior at ease
before they completed the review of the rest of the transcripts
from Yasser’s visit. “And You believe that?” David had doubtfully
questioned at the time.

“
It isn’t exactly the sort
of chip you can buy off the back of the bus!” continued Ali,
“However, we are aware that IIS agents have been in Japan trying to
purchase chips via the Yazuka and have made visits to North Korea
over the last three months, so for once evidence suggest that
Saddam is telling Yasser the truth.”

Yet despite this, it was only when Saddam
invaded Kuwait did the “powers that be” at the Agency finally begin
to take the Middle East and Near East desk’s intelligence
seriously.

The direct benefit of which for Ali had been
a promotion and a career boost for David as it had caused the
instant firing of his immediate superior he reported to because he
had chosen not to pass the information up the line to the
President’s National Security Council via the Director.

“
Amazing,” Ali had said as
the pair had continued to plough through the tapes.

“
He’s likening the situation
with Kuwait to fighting in the playground!” Ali had continued while
shaking his head in disbelief at one of Saddam’s comments during
one of his dinners with Arafat. Where he had claimed that if it
wasn’t for him, Ayatollah Khomeini and Iran would have occupied the
entire Arab world and as such, he expected the Arab world to
support them during and after the war. Before launching into
another venomous tirade with regard to Kuwait, whom he felt had
been keeping the price of their oil at $7 U.S. dollars per barrel
to stop Iraq from rebuilding its infrastructure.

“
You know what those dogs
said to Hammadi,” Saddam had said in disgust, referring to his
Minister of Foreign Affairs. “We’ll make the economy in Iraq so
bad, one would be able to sleep with an Iraqi woman for ten
dinars.”

“
They steal our oil using
the practice of slant drilling!” Saddam ranted.

“
Then laugh at us by saying
they have only taken two and a half billion barrels!” He
continued,

“
And then tell OPEC that
they will not abide by its decision!” he had ranted on, referring
to Kuwait’s veto when the other members of Organization of
Petroleum Exporting Countries had agreed to appease Iraq by fixing
the price between sixteen and seventeen U.S. dollars per
barrel.

“
It was them, I tell you,
Yasser, who convinced our brothers to call in their loans instead
of what it was supposed to be ‘free aid’ in order not to upset the
dogs at Iraq’s door” Saddam had said, spitting on the floor, or so
it had sounded to both Ali and David.

“
And why? Yasser,” Saddam’s
voice had ranted on, “Do they do this? I will tell you why! Because
it is a conspiracy! A conspiracy against Iraq, the Iraqi
leadership, and our economy, all led by our mutual enemy via their
conduit: the Great Satan - America! Zionist power and influence in
the United States dictates its foreign policy. Any country viewed
as a threat to Israel, such as Iraq, becomes a target of the
conspiracy.”

“
Look,” he had said making
his gambit in effort to garner Arafat’s support by referring to
Israel’s latest official statement saying any peace agreement with
Arab countries must include Iraq. “They aren’t hoping for peace.
Only other countries to abide by their wishes.”

“
The Soviet Union is weak,”
Saddam had rambled on. “Recent agreements between the two shows
this,” he had said referring to America and the Soviet Union.
“Therefore it is easier for the two powers to agree rather than
attempt to get many to agree.”

“
So what does this mean?”
Saddam announced. “I will tell you what! We are left with economics
led by certain Zionist entities within the United States, including
the weapons manufacturers and elements in the military all of who
favor war due to the financial profit which can be
reaped.”

“
With the Soviet Union
falling apart,” he had continued now in full flow, “We represent a
suitable new enemy to replace them. So we must defend by attacking!
History dictates that Kuwait is part of Iraq. If Qasim wanted to
make a Kuwait a district of Iraq in sixty-one,” he had said
referring to the former President of Iraq, “Then this my friend,
gives me the justification to act and make my people and brothers
ready for the fight that one day would come to Iraq’s shores, and
force those dogs of Al Sabahs to heel,” Saddam had said referring
to the ruling family of Kuwait.

By the end of the tapes, both men had looked
at one another. David made a comment that at the time had surprised
Ali.

“
Well, he’s right about one
thing,” David had said, chuckling, something Ali found
inappropriate but kept his own council.

“
What’s that?” Ali had asked
instead.

“
America does need an enemy
once the Soviet Union falls.”

“
You think the Soviets are
going to fall?”

David had laughed. “Ali, they can’t afford a
bath plug, let alone a foreign policy. Unfortunately America does
need an enemy to justify its Energy Security position.”

Ali mentally shook his head. David scared him
sometimes. Everything to him was a game of chess. Assets were
merely pieces on the board to be moved or sacrificed as when
needed. Yet the fact remained because he was so politically
connected and by definition going places, with his next posting
most likely to be Moscow as a Station Chief at just thirty-five
years of age, it made sense to remain close and stay friends with
him so not make him an enemy within the Agency.

“
Still for the moment we
need to make sure that this gets passed up the line,” David had
said, changing the subject. “The last thing we need is getting
caught with our pants down, and we get the blame!” he had said with
a smile.

“
By that statement, you
don’t think anybody is going to listen to us.”

David had continued to smile at him, but
didn’t say anything. Instead, he had replied, “A great piece of
work, Ali.”

Six hours later, having reached their primary
target and unaware of the global politics and instead focused on
the mission, Thomas and the team approached the buildings.
Immediately they encountered a large long truck with a canopy
around it. Using his night vision goggles he quickly spotted only
two men guarding it, and everything was very, very quiet.

The young Captain was pleased. The mission
was going without a hitch so far.

Giving the silent order to advance by way of
fist pumps and points, the eight man assault team quickly went in,
killing the two guards with their knives and then setting the
explosives on the truck.

Suddenly, Thomas sensed movement to his right
side, coming from the door opening in the building.

He didn’t have time to think. The instincts
of one of his troopers reacted for him as the magazine was emptied
into the person at the door.

The whole place erupted. The patrol was
compromised.

Straight away, heavy machine gunfire rained
down on the patrol as they attempted to make their escape.

Sensing they were in danger of being
overwhelmed, Thomas gave the order to withdraw with a hand signal.
As he did so, a tracer round whizzed past his ear, and the patrol
moved back quickly to a place of cover. His heart pumped faster.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Being well trained, he didn’t need to give
the order for the team to stop, turn, and return fire to stall the
retreat. Three hundred yards out on cue, they did it automatically,
immediately unleashing a barrage of covering fire in the direction
of the Iraqi guards.

Screams erupted.

Yet still not one word had been said by the
men of Thomas’s assault team only a group hand signals between one
another to signal where to aim their fire.

Suddenly the Iraqi night sky lit up!

“
Bigwig this is Hawkbit,”
over the radio’s loudspeaker quickly caught the attention of Ali
Mansoor, the Colonel and the RSM. He was using the codenames of
characters from the famous story of Watership Down. Another of the
RSM’s witty ideas!

“
Objective successful,”
confirmed the crackling voice.

“
Woundwort destroyed,” came
the confirmation. “Under heavy fire. Requesting immediately air
support and EXFIL ASAP at original drop-in!” squawked Thomas’s
voice, referring to the Standard Operation Procedure (SOP) of
returning to your original drop in point to wait for a helicopter
that once every twenty-four hours would return to pick up a
comprised patrol.

The relieved looking Colonel immediately went
to pick up the radio. The hand of the man belonging to a CIA
Intelligence officer who had flown in the afternoon from Riyadh
stopped him.

“
Sorry, Colonel,” the
Virginian said. “No, Air support or emergency Air Vac,” he
ordered.

“
WHAT!”

“
This mission is off-book,”
the Virginian calmly stated. “Emergency Air support requires logs
and confirmation and gets journalists who hang around the base very
interested as to why,” he said coolly and without
emotion.

The fury in the face of the Colonel said it
all. “Those are my bloody men out there! I am NOT leaving them to
FUCKING DIE.”

The Senior CIA officer looked at him
impassively, calmly pulled a letter out of his briefcase, and then
offered it towards the Colonel.

The RSM snatched it from the Virginian’s
hand, quickly handing it to his commanding officer. He promptly
read it.

“
RSM,” the Colonel said with
sad eyes. “Pass me the radio.”

“
Understood Bigwig,”
answered Thomas despite his mind thinking anything but as he turned
towards the team. “Looks like we on our own,” he said. Nobody said
a word. They didn’t have to.

“
It’s the back-up plan
then,” said Taff Jones. Grimly, Thomas nodded.