“I do not need to involve Turkey in such a way with a NATO partner; you need not worry Oetari. Your sniper targeted other people in that meeting. They are just as interested as I in knowing who the killer is. The beauty of it is they have already threatened your military personnel.”
Oetari thought for a long moment. “I cannot give you the name, of course, that goes without saying.”
“Then, as I said, we have a problem.”
“Mustafa, you are asking me to expose an agent on assignment.”
“Patra, it is done all the time. The world is our chess board. We barter these warriors like pawns.”
Oetari was very careful in his choice of words. He had Ataturk’s attention. “This is too important a matter to deal with over the phone. I will send my personal confidant Mr. Waters to you.”
The President of Turkey understood perfectly. “I will try and defuse the situation here,” Ataturk told him, satisfied for the moment. “However, if Mr. Waters comes armed with only an apology I will have no choice but to be very public with my comments. Things will take a decidedly bad turn.”
“I understand.”
Director MacCloud glowered at Freddy Waters. Waters for his part avoided the FBI Director’s eyes and hid behind Jeffries.
Gann sidled up next to MacCloud, and said, “We’ve fallen a long way, having a domestic terrorist in the White House with access to the president. But you look like you’re taking it personally.”
MacCloud clenched his teeth and scowled. “It’s very personal. I’m the reason he’s here.”
Gann’s expression was enough to spur MacCloud to continue. “We had Waters dead to rights for murder, terrorism, plotting a violent overthrow of the government — everything.”
“He got off on a technicality — I remember — the FBI mole was not operating on a warrant so all of the evidence was flushed.”
“Waters was the worst they had. He had a grand plan for a global communist world, including the elimination of those who couldn’t be re-educated. Marx was his Jesus. He wanted to implement that game plan to the letter, even if it resulted in millions of people being — eliminationed.”
“We’ve both dealt with scum like this all of our careers,” Gann asked. “What about Waters rubs you so raw?”
“I was the mole,” MacCloud told him.
Gann was astonished, but there was no time for further consideration. The secretary announced, “The president will see you now.”
Oetari called his secretary to let his cabinet members into the Oval Office. As they entered he reorganized his thoughts, reminding himself of the subject of the meeting. “So the Malaysians have lost an airliner. Not to be unsympathetic, but why should I care about an aviation tragedy? Regrettable as it is, what is it you want me to do? There are already recovery operations ongoing.”
“Mr. President we’ve briefed you concerning the captain of the aircraft,” Director Gann reminded the president. There was a hint of reproach in his normally calm voice. “He is an Al Qaeda sympathizer. We’ve discovered that a deadheading pilot was not employed by Malaysian Airlines but was actually a plant, an Al Qaeda operative. There were also two Iranians travelling with stolen passports. The aircraft disappears and there is no wreckage. That constitutes a potential situation.”
“First I’ve heard of it.”
“If you’ll consult the daily briefings of the last week you will see we touched on it repeatedly,” Gann said diplomatically.
“If it’s important then maybe you should do more than “touch on it” Director Gann,” the president complained. “Obviously you didn’t prioritize the information, but go on, what about the captain and the Iranians? Do you think they pulled an Egypt Air?”
Director Gann bit his lip, not mentioning the cost of the CIA brief in sweat and blood — quite literally. He knew his president. Oetari, for whatever reason, was not one to read the intelligence briefings but at the same time he didn’t want anyone to realize he hadn’t read them. Therefore, Gann had to tread carefully in order to get his point across and more importantly in order for the president to approve any and all necessary actions.
“Mr. President, I would be only happy to report that we had another suicide, but I’m afraid we’re looking at a more sinister scenario.”
“Which is?”
“We believe there’s a strong possibility that the aircraft was hijacked.”
The president didn’t hide his surprise. “What on earth for? We haven’t had any hostage demands — nothing. The airplane simply disappeared.” He shook his head and chuckled without humor. “I know it’s your job to be paranoid about certain things but really Gann, aside from a captain with questionable politics, someone getting a free ride by impersonating a pilot and two poor Iranians just trying to get out of Malaysia, and really who can blame them, what do you have to go on?”
Gann laid three sets of photos on the president’s desk. He pointed to the first photo, which showed a group of about a dozen men sitting around a simple table. They held iPads, which seemed out of place considering the obvious rural Middle Eastern furnishings. Two of the men’s heads were circled.
“The photo was taken in northern Iraq a week ago by a Cobra team. The man in uniform is Colonel Nikahd, the head of the Special Operations branch of the Iranian Republican Guard. The other man, the one with the burns,” the president interrupted him.
“Khallida — right, one of the masterminds of Nine-Eleven and the follow-on operation “Wave of Allah,” correct?” When Gann nodded, the president pointedly said, “I know you guys don’t think I ever read those briefs, but on occasion I do.”
“Yes sir,” Gann replied, but before he continued, Oetari held up his hand, an ashen look on his face. He put his finger on the chest of a young man in tribal garb.
“That’s Turgut! This is the meeting where he was murdered!”
“Yes Mr. President, we’ve spoken about that; he was unfortunately collateral damage.”
“Collateral damage my ass,” Freddy Waters muttered under his breath.
Everyone looked at him. Freddy shrugged, but Director MacCloud couldn’t restrain himself anymore. “Mr. President, I must protest the presence of Mr. Waters. He doesn’t have the clearance required to discuss national security matters of this nature. He does not have the need to know.”
“I say he does.” The president said, glancing up at MacCloud. “Do you have a problem with Mr. Waters being here?”
“I do indeed Mr. President,” MacCloud asserted. “He is a known domestic terrorist, a murderer and an enemy of this nation. I absolutely protest his presence!”
“He is one of the most respected members of this nation’s academia Director MacCloud,” the president said icily. “He demonstrated against the Vietnam War, as did many people, and his actions were directed toward peace not violence. That is possibly why he shows distaste at the “collateral damage” Director Gann so blithely points out. It was a human life snuffed out unnecessarily and tragically.”
The president thought for a moment, and then, cocking his head to the side, he turned to Gann. “That reminds me,” Oetari said, a scowl crossing his face. “This Cobra snafu still doesn’t sit well with me. It was a Delta Force operation, but wasn’t that the sniper was one of your men Gann?”
“Yes sir.”
“So it was actually CIA that assassinated the nephew of President Ataturk — correct?”
The room grew thickly silent.
Gann turned ashen. “It was a clean operation sir.”
“Who was the triggerman?”
“Sir, every target was properly vetted,” Gann insisted.
“Who was he?”
After a long pause, Gann said, “I cannot mention his name for obvious reasons Mr. President. The information is in your briefing.”