“At this very moment the entire world views you as nothing more than an unfortunate and inept lackey of your meddling government. Unless you sign this document, you will die at the hands of an NIMF firing squad within forty-eight hours. I would ask you. Agent Bogner, what purpose do you serve in dying?”
“If I sign the paper I go free?”
Fahid smiled.
“I am afraid it is not quite that simple. In return for you signing a simple piece of paper in which you do nothing more than admit that you were carrying out the orders of your government, I am prepared to look the other way while you make an attempt to escape.”
Bogner continued to stare back at the colonel.
He knew there was a great deal more to Fahid’s proposal than what he had revealed so far.
“I don’t get it. What exactly do you get out of this?” Bogner demanded.
“The admission of an agent of one of the most powerful nations on earth that his government was involved along with the Baghdad government in this heinous act. And I have both the control and loyalty of the seventy-thousand-man Northern Iraqi Military Force and its resources.”
“Let’s get this straight, Fahid. If I remember how you worded it, you said ‘attempt to escape.”
“Opportunities are not without risks. Agent Bogner. An escape from Ammash would require a certain amount of courage and resourcefulness.
You will receive no help. I will raise no hand to accommodate you — in fact I will do everything I can to hunt you down. If you do manage to escape you will face certain hardship and perhaps even death. But… there is even more certainty of your fate if you face the firing squad.”
Bogner waited while Fahid sat down again, pulled himself up to the desk, and opened the envelope.
The confession was exactly as he had pictured it: a one-page document written in Arabic.
Fahid lowered his voice again as he began.
“When the guard brings you your evening meal, a resourceful man would have an opportunity to disarm him. How you do it and where you go after you accomplish this is, of course, up to you. I can tell you only that the guard is expected to stand outside your door while you eat. You will have fifteen minutes. At that point, the guard will reenter your cell, pick up your tray, and return to food services. We too are a cautious people. Agent Bogner. If the guard does not return within a certain amount of time, we will send someone to investigate.”
“And all of this happens only if I sign that piece of paper?”
“Weigh your odds carefully,” Fahid warned.
“There’s not a hell of a lot to weigh,” Bogner answered him. He reached across the table and took the piece of paper out of Fahid’s hands.
“Where do I sign?”
Major Mustafa Jahin was in the middle of reviewing the previous day’s reports when he was informed that Fahid wanted to see him. Ten minutes later he was in Fahid’s office waiting for the colonel to return. When Fahid entered the room, he ignored Jahin’s greeting, went straight to his desk, and sat down. Again he wasted no time on amenities.
“I have just come from a rather lengthy session with the American,” he began, “and I have introduced the possibility of his escape.”
Jahin looked puzzled.
“An escape?”
“Do not be alarmed. Major. It is in our best interests for the American to attempt an escape. If and when he does, I want you and your security guards to hunt him down and kill him.”
Jahin looked puzzled.
“I am afraid I do not understand,” he admitted.
“The reason is quite simple, Major,” Fahid said.
“To put the American on trial, even though he was foolish enough to sign a confession admitting his duplicity in General Baddour’s death, will raise the are of the Americans. We can logically expect some sort of censure, retaliation, or perhaps even an ill-conceived and ill-advised attempt to rescue him. That would be at cross-purposes with our objective.
“The world will view an escape attempt by Agent Bogner as little more than still another confirmation of his guilt. Less than an hour ago I contacted the Jordanian embassy in Damascus and informed them that it was our intention to turn Mr. Bogner over to them if the Americans would guarantee that he would stand trial for General Baddour’s death. We have made our offer — and while the Jordanians are in the process of contacting the Americans, the assassin, unaware that we have made this offer, attempts his escape and is shot and killed in the attempt. Simple, and efficient.
Timing, of course, is critical. It was imperative we let the Jordanians know of our intentions before he attempted his escape.”
Jahin was beginning to grasp Fahid’s convoluted plan. He was still pulling the pieces together as Fahid continued.
“Unlike America’s current relations with Baghdad or General Baddour, our offer to the Jordanians will demonstrate evidence of new thinking in Iraq and the NIMF’s willingness to cooperate with the world community.”
“Most astute, Colonel,” Jahin observed, “and it will likewise avoid the necessity of permitting observers, some of whom may be friendly to American interests, to be present at the trial of Agent Bogner — observers, obviously, who would be willing to divulge what they saw and learned here.” Jahin’s scowl had become a smile as Fahid’s explanation unfolded.
“A well-devised plan,” he said.
Bogner, operating without a watch, was forced to guess at the time. For the most part it was a dull gray, overcast day with no way to track the progress or location of the sun. The task of estimating time had been made somewhat easier, though, because during the course of the late afternoon he had two visitors. The first was the same woman who had taken care of him when he was first brought to Ammash and confined to his room in the medical complex. Now, instead of a smock, the woman was wearing a cape and arrived carrying a small satchel containing medical supplies.
She examined the gunshot wound to his left arm, redressed it, and inspected where the bullet had creased his face. When she was finished she gave him a foul-smelling salve for the latter and rubbed some on his hands. Finally she inquired about his vision and asked if he had any questions.
“Only one,” Bogner admitted.
“At times I think I hear things and every now and then I think I hear a train. Is it a train or just my imagination?”
The woman apparently saw no harm in answering the question because she informed him that there was a small rail switching yard just a few hundred yards from where he was being detained.
After that Bogner quizzed her about the time, and she had informed him that it was late afternoon. Moments later the guard returned for her and she left.
Still later, the two guards that had earlier escorted him to Fahid’s quarters opened the door to his room and conducted a brief inspection. Bogner was frisked, and the two men inspected the two eight-by-sixteen-inch windows in the room, conducted an ongoing dialogue in Arabic during the process, and left laughing.
As far as Bogner was concerned, Fahid had already made one crucial mistake. He had given him time to think and plan — and that plan, admittedly still shaky, was beginning to take shape.
While the two guards had conducted their inspection, Bogner had had more than enough time to get a good look at the way they were equipped.
Each of the men carried a side arm, caliber and type unknown, but Bogner figured a reasonable assumption was that the weapons were 9mm, and probably Mk 2’s. Someone had once commented that Mk 2’s seemed to be more plentiful than sand in the Middle East.
In addition, each of the guards were carrying a sheathed field knife — and there was a kind of reassurance in the realization that all of Fahid’s troops Bogner had seen thus far, including these two guards, wore camouflage uniforms with cartridge belts, canvas aux packs, and field boots. He had managed to get a reasonably good look at the aux packs, and was guessing they were standard military issue: small tools, wire, fuses, and other articles a soldier might need in the field.