“I’m sure you understand.”
Asononkov sat with his hands folded on the table.
“We will start with your first problem. First of all, let me assure you, there are ways of getting your people to the crash site. This much I have already confirmed. Iraq, for all intents and purposes, is a closed country, and there are men who make their living defying the border patrols.
“After my conversation with Captain Langley earlier today I was able to contact some of my former comrades. They assure me General Baddour’s methods have not changed. You see, Mr.
Packer, General Baddour is Oxford-educated. He now thinks like an Englishman. He places great value on routine and structure and control, and he demands great discipline from his men. That discipline, as you well know, Mr. Packer, equates with predictability. For some time now NIMF helicopter patrols have followed the same routes, at the same hour, every day. To fly an aircraft into NIMF territory and remain undetected requires only an awareness of NIMF patrol schedules and the cooperation of Turkish border officers. Then all one has to be concerned about is Ammash radar — and it is of little use in the Koboli Mountains.”
“Then you believe we can get Turkish cooperation?”
Packer pressed.
“Turkish border patrols are there primarily to insure that their borders are guarded against further Kurdish migrations. As for the Turks’ relationship with NIMF, it can best be described as distant. Both sides avoid contact, but there is, how do you Americans say it, no love lost?”
“Then it is not impossible. If we were able to obtain permission from our authorities, how soon could we make such arrangements?” Packer asked.
“Before I answer that, Mr. Packer, there is something else you should know. I have not discussed this matter since my arrival in your country because I did not believe it would come to pass.
Suffice it to say, this area of the world, like yours, is not without its intrigues. As you well know there are those, many in fact, who wish to see the Party return to power in my former country. However, these same people are aware that your country will do everything in its power to insure that it does not happen. To that end, they need and have been planning a distraction of some kind to divert your country’s attention from what is about to take place in Russia.”
“I don’t believe I understand,” Packer said.
“Shortly before I left my country,” Asonokov continued, “I learned of a rather bizarre plot to assassinate General Salih Baddour. The belief was that such an action would create a civil war within Iraq. The scenario as it was originally designed would go something like this. General Baddour would be assassinated. When that happened, the
Northern Iraqi Military Force would conclude, of course, it was the work of Abbasin loyalists. In turn they would rally behind Baddour’s chief of Staff, Colonel Ishad Fahid. The resulting conflict would be the focus of world attention, leaving my former comrades free to overthrow the current Russian president and return the Party to power.”
“What makes your former colleagues so certain a civil war in Iraq would create the diversion they need to pull the coup off?”
“Without Baddour’s wisdom to temper such an action, Fahid would be at liberty to use his arsenal of cyanide weapons. Can you think of anything that would alarm world powers more?”
“Hell, he’s already using the cyanide weapons on the Kurds,” Packer countered.
“Testing weapons against a handful of homeless Kurds is one thing, Mr. Packer. To use these weapons in an all-out war would be quite another.”
Packer sagged back in his chair and stared at the table for several moments before he looked at Langley.
“Who else knows about this plot?” he asked.
Langley shook his head.
“That’s the sixty-four-dollar question. Pack. Based on what Mikos is telling us, it would appear that it’s not well known-especially by our own intelligence people. It’s beginning to look like we blundered into something beside Baddour’s cyanide tests, and maybe even played right into the Russians’ hands.”
Packer looked at Asonokov again.
“What makes you think this so-called plot to assassinate Baddour and trigger a civil war in Iraq is going to happen?”
“My former colleagues tell me the zero hour of their plot to assassinate Baddour approaches.”
Packer was momentarily distracted by the sound of voices in the hallway outside the room.
He could hear Koko’s voice above the rest.
“Sorry, gentlemen, I’ve been told to tell everyone the game is closed.”
There was grumbling and a shuffling of feet until one of the men wanted to know if Koko would be willing to see if the room’s current occupants would open the game to newcomers.
“Tell ‘em you found some fresh money,” one of the men suggested.
“Not this time, man,” Koko grunted. Then Packer heard him lower his voice and confide that he thought it was some kind of a grudge game.
“There’s some heavy muscle in there.” There was more grousing and complaining, but eventually the commotion in the hallway died away.
“So — what do you think. Pack?”
Asonokov’s unexpected revelation of the assassination plot complicated matters.
“I guess I’ve been kidding myself, Peter. Up until a few minutes ago I thought there might be a way to salvage this mess. I keep thinking we’re going to find a way in there and find T. C. in one piece. Up until a few minutes ago I was even thinking there had to be a way to turn him around and still get him into the compound at Ammash. But if what Dr. Asonokov says is true…”
“Let me clarify, Mr. Packer,” Asonokov said.
“I will tell you the same thing I told Captain Langley.
If you decide you must proceed in order to determine the fate of your colleague, I feel confident there will be little difficulty in getting Captain Langley into the crash site. But you need to be aware that you could be playing right into my former countrymen’s hands.”
For the second time in less than thirty minutes, Packer had been caught off guard.
“Langley?” he repeated. He looked across the table.
“You, Peter?
Why you?”
“Got anyone else in mind?”
Packer shook his head.
Langley was grinning.
“Why not — and who better?
While Mikos makes the arrangements, I request an emergency leave. I’m in Istanbul by Friday morning, make contact, get in, find out what happened to Bogner and Banks. If they’re vertical, I bring them out with me, and…” Langley’s face sobered.
“If they aren’t, we at least know what happened to them. Either way, I come out.”
“What about Spitz? What do I tell him?”
“If I pull this off, Spitz can tell the President it was his idea. If something goes wrong. Spitz and the President are your problem.”
Bogner had been awake for several hours. The throbbing headache that had hounded him for the last few days had subsided to a dull, numbing sensation that was accentuated by even the slightest movement. For that reason he was careful to restrict his range of movement to the absolute minimum.
He allowed his eyes to slowly scan the darkened room, first to what remained of the fire in the fireplace, and finally into the room’s long shadows. His vision was still blurred. He tried to shift on his bed, realized that his hands were still tied, and moaned involuntarily.
“You are awake?” he heard the woman say. She sounded pleased.
Bogner recognized Andera’s voice.
“May — may I have a drink of water?” he managed to rasp.
The woman stood up, crossed the room, dipped the tin cup in the bucket, and brought it to him.