“The situation is further compounded by the fact that we’ve since been able to confirm that the man representing himself as Taj Ozal wasn’t the real Ozal. The real Ozal died in a fire the Turkish authorities believe to be arson a few weeks ago.”
“Meaning?” Colchin pressed.
“It’s only speculation at this point, Mr. President, but the man representing himself as Ozal may actually have been part of a Communist plot to assassinate Baddour. At least Dr. Asonokov believes that to be a possibility.”
Colchin held up his hands.
“Wait a minute, dammit. Is there anyone here who can boil all of this down to where I can get a handle on what the hell is going on?”
Spitz looked skeptical.
“Unfortunately, this whole affair is still unfolding as we speak, Mr.
President. We believe members of the Communist Party in Russia are involved but at this point we can’t prove it. How it all ties together, we’re still not certain…”
“It was my idea to send Bogner to look into the Ammash situation, Mr. President,” Packer admitted.
“You and I both know Bogner had nothing to do with shooting Baddour just as sure as we know that this whole thing is a setup.”
“Okay,” Colchin said calmly, “so we know it’s a setup. And we know Bogner is being framed. The fact remains that we’ve got this guy Fahid telling the whole world Bogner is the one who pulled the trigger, and he’s even showing the world the weapon with Bogner’s fingerprints and blood samples on it. On the surface, at least, that’s one hell of an indictment. At eleven o’clock this morning, the press secretary is going to have to give the media some answers, and we’re going to look like a pack of idiots if we can’t answer their damn questions any better than you can answer mine.
Right now I don’t hear any of you giving me any answers, at least not the kind of answers that can satisfy the press.”
Clancy Packer cleared his throat.
“Mr. President, we know what at least two of those questions are bound to be. One, what was Bogner doing there, and two, what are we doing to get him out of there? To the first question, the answer seems obvious. Everyone knows the Abbasin government as well as the NIMF have stonewalled the U.N. inspection teams every time we’ve attempted to determine what’s going on over there. After the most recent GG-2 attack on the Kurds, we can tell them we decided to try to find out. With limited options available to us, we decided to send Bogner in to investigate. As for the second question, we can tell them we are still exploring our options. If we’re going to figure out how to get T. C. out of there, we need to buy ourselves some time.”
Colchin looked around the table and shook his head.
“If any of you have any ideas on the second question I sure would like to hear ‘em.”
“We’ll get back to you, Mr. President,” Spitz said. Then he looked at the others seated around the table.
“When?”
“Within a matter of hours.”
Chapter Ten
It was late afternoon when the same two NIMF guards who had escorted Bogner to his earlier session with Fahid reappeared and ordered him to another round with the colonel. Now, in an austere, smoky room containing nothing more than a small, scarred table and two chairs, Bogner sat across from the man who only hours earlier had proclaimed to the world that he was guilty of assassinating General Salih Baddour.
On the table was an envelope. Bogner knew what it contained without opening it. It was the only thing Fahid didn’t have, a signed confession.
As usual, Fahid wasted little time. His voice was gravelly and he was obviously fatigued from the previous long night without sleep. “So, Mr. t
Bogner, you find yourself in the middle of an intriguing scenario, do you not?”
Bogner stared back at the man, for the moment declining to answer. Instead he watched as Fahid leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.
“I long ago learned that Americans, by their very nature, suffer a curious malady. For some reason, they feel it is their duty to involve themselves in matters that are of no concern to them. I say that because that is the case here. If it were not for your misguided regard for a people who have no legal claim to their land, you would not be in this predicament. The Kurds are nothing to you. Why does your country choose to make them your responsibility?”
Bogner could feel himself becoming progressively more tense — and angry. His arm hurt where Fahid had shot him, it was a struggle just to stand up, and it was hard for him to think of any part of him that didn’t ache or need some kind of repair or attention.
“Let’s knock off the cat-and-mouse game. Colonel. You know damn well I didn’t kill Baddour. Ozal is the one who pulled that trigger. So why the hell don’t you tell me what’s going on here?”
Fahid found Bogner’s rancor amusing.
“What’s going on, as you put it. Agent Bogner, is that within a matter of hours you will be tried by an Iraqi tribunal for the death of General Salih Baddour. During the course of that trial I will produce evidence that you and your colleague, Mr. Ozal, acting as agents hired by the current government in Baghdad, conspired to kill General Baddour, committed the heinous act, and then when you are found guilty, you will be sentenced to death by an NIMF firing squad. And that — is what’s going on.”
“All cut and dried, huh?” Bogner fired back.
“I am merely telling you how the scenario will play out,” Fahid said, “unless, of course, you decide to exercise your second option in this decidedly sordid matter.”
“Since when do you give people you’ve already condemned to death options?” Bogner snarled.
Fahid inched himself closer to the table and lowered his voice.
“Even though I hold all the cards, Agent Bogner, I am prepared to make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?”
“In return for your signed confession that the American government, working in collusion with the current Iraqi government in Baghdad, did in fact send you to Ammash along with Mr. Ozal for the express purpose of killing General Salih Baddour, I am willing to, how shall I put it, give you a chance.”
“You’ve already announced to the world that I’m your man, Fahid. What makes a confession so damn valuable?”
“I suggest that you listen to what I have to say,” Fahid said. The NIMF colonel pushed himself away from the table, stood up, locked his hands behind his back, and began to pace back and forth in the tiny, cell-like room.
“You see, I have no quarrel with you. Agent Bogner, because in actuality when you shot and killed General Salih Baddour, you did the people of Iraq a great favor. In other times and under other circumstances, you might even have become a kind of hero to the people of my country. For several years now, Salih Baddour has had the resources to attack, conquer, and dispose of the corrupt and inept government in Baghdad. Believe me when I tell you that armed with the weapons systems developed by Dr. Rashid and his associates, victory would have been both swift and assured.
“Unfortunately, Baddour chose not to act and the people of my country have suffered innumerable hardships as the result of trade embargoes and U.N. sanctions which have allowed us to sell only enough of our natural resources to provide the Iraqi people with only the most meager existence.
“Now, with General Baddour out of the way, I can initiate actions which should have been taken years ago.”
“By using the GG-2,” Bogner countered.
“Why should you or your government care how I do it?” Fahid fumed.