"Specifics, ladies and gentlemen," Penn said. "Deputy Director Hanlon, you need to be as specific as you can be in terms of timeline, manpower needs and destination parameters. And you, General, need to decide how you can assist Deputy Director Hanlon's agents."
An air force general at the far end of the table leaned in. "Mr. President, Erbil International is a good-size airport. Our jets fly in and out of an airbase adjoining it daily. I can arrange for the transfer of the prisoner from Afghanistan to Iraq."
The commanding general of the marines in the Middle East chirped in, as well. "We have a special task force that is headquartered just outside of Erbil. We can arrange for an escort when they arrive."
Commander Percy looked across the room at Faas, his glare probing but a few degrees less hostile. "Dr. Banaz's lab was raided in Baquba, Diyala province's capital city, thirty-five miles northeast of Baghdad. Now she wants us to take her to Erbil. Why would a scientist keep backup files a hundred-and-sixty miles away in an area outside of Saddam Hussein's control, an area that has been closely monitored by the United Nations since the first Gulf War? Our intelligence never mentioned the possibility of a lab facility in that region. Doesn't the whole thing smell like a con job?"
"It does have a peculiar odor, General. We don't deny that."
Percy continued. "Even if these files exist, how could she have put them there and why? Even five years ago, it would have made more sense for this woman to tuck away an encrypted file in some corner of cyberspace, where she could access it from anywhere in the world." He shook his head and turned toward the TV screen. "This sounds like an exercise in futility, Mr. President."
"I understand your concerns, General." Faas thumbed through the file before him, forcing himself to keep a civil tongue in his head. "Mr. President, I don't have answers to all of the general's concerns, but I can shed light on some of them."
"Briefly," the president ordered.
"Yes, sir. The reason why we give any credence to the information Dr. Banaz has given us is because she is of Kurdish descent. She was born and raised in the village of Halabja in Northern Iraq. She lost her parents and all but one of her siblings in Saddam Hussein's Anfal campaign."
Faas looked around the room, contemplating if he should say more. He believed the Banaz woman's motivation to help them was based on what had happened to her family, but most of the people around the table were in the military and would know what Saddam's forces did to the Kurds. He was about to move on when the president broke in.
"And the Anfal Campaign is relevant to this discussion?" President Penn encouraged.
"Yes, sir." Faas glanced down at the page in his file to make sure he had the correct dates and numbers. "As you know, Anfal was an anti-Kurdish campaign led by Saddam Hussein's security forces between 1986 and 1989. The plans for the attacks were orchestrated by Ali Hassan al-Majid, a cousin of the Iraqi leader. Chemical Ali's trial in Iraq specifically described the use of ground offensives, aerial bombing, the systematic destruction of settlements, mass deportation, concentration camps, firing squads and chemical warfare."
Nearly twenty years had passed since the campaign against the Kurds, but from the expression on the faces of the people in this room, no one had forgotten why the world was a better place without Saddam and his henchmen. Of course, there were still some unresolved issues with what had happened back then, including American support of Saddam. Faas knew that some of the people who were present in this room may have played some role.
"The village of Halabja was the target of a poison gas attack in March 1988," Faas continued. 'The estimated casualties in that village alone were seven thousand. In all, the Anfal campaign destroyed four thousand villages, killing more than one hundred thousand Kurds and displacing another million."
No one said anything. Faas didn't look at Percy, but he could feel that the general was about to explode. He quickly got to the point.
"Regardless of the fact that her education was paid for by the Iraqi government and that she returned to serve in the chemical labs of Saddam's regime, Dr. Banaz never severed her connection with her past." Faas Hanlon took out a folder and held it up. "In this recent CIA report on Rahaf Banaz, intelligence shows transfers of money that date from the very start of her service, up to the invasion of U.S. forces. In short, Dr. Banaz transferred the majority of her income to a number of institutions in the Kurdish region."
"What kind of institutions?" someone asked.
"Humanitarian aid groups?" the marine general chirped in.
"Our information comes from groups we have connections with," Faas told the room. "Some of the money was clearly intended for humanitarian efforts. Some of the money, though, made its way into the hands of Kurdish resistance groups. Naturally, we can't determine at this point how supportive she was of groups that opposed her boss, but what is clear is that she has never stopped identifying herself as a Kurd."
"She sounds like a loose cannon to me," General Percy said.
"I agree," Faas countered. "But right now, at least, she's cooperating with us."
"Does she understand the urgency of this matter?" the head of FEMA asked from the West Wing conference room. "It would be so much faster if she'd just give us the location of those files and let us get them for her."
"She has good reason not to trust us," Faas said directly to the camera feeding the images to the White House. "As I said at the beginning of this meeting, Dr. Banaz has spent five years in American prisons without any trial or legal recourse."
The marine general leaned forward. "This may be an erroneous assumption, but since she grew up in the village of Halabja, it is logical that Halabja would be her destination. The location of the village isn't particularly ideal for us, as close as it is to the Iranian border. But our patrols do go in and out of that sector regularly. If that's where she says she wants to go, we can arrange the escort… with General Percy's authorization, of course."
The air force general at the far end of the table spoke again. "Gentlemen, since the fall of Saddam's government, we've had only sporadic, isolated violence in Erbil… unlike most of Iraq. Of any region in the country, that one would be probably the safest to take her into right now."
A brief buzz of individual comments started around the room and then stopped abruptly when General Percy laid his meaty hands on the table.
"What's she bargaining for, Hanlon?" Percy asked gruffly.
"Her freedom," Faas replied, looking the general steadily in the eye.
"All right, then." Percy didn't blink. "But I won't forget who's putting the lives of American soldiers on the line."
Chapter Eleven
They had nothing to say to each other, and yet Captain Adams never ceased with the effort to engage Fahimah in small talk.
Thinking about it, Fahimah decided that it would be a difficult transition for anyone, especially an army captain in charge of a facility like this, seeing a detainee moved from dangerous "enemy to America" status to "we-depend-on-you-to-save-our-country" status in the matter of an hour or so. But the new status was exactly that, and Fahimah was being treated accordingly. The pendulum had swung completely.
Being able to move about without shackles or handcuffs or blindfolds made her feel immediately that she'd rejoined a world she never thought she'd belong to again. Receiving a change of clothing was another positive step. But none of this compared with the change in her jailors' attitude. She was given choices in food and even in the clothing she wished to wear, to some extent. She'd been allowed to take a shower in a private stall. She'd even adjusted the temperature and decided on the length of time she wanted to stay under the warm, cleansing water. This had been the most luxurious, the most stunning, of all her newfound freedoms.