Battleline (2007) (15 page)

Wallenger's moment of glory came at a White House news conference when he confronted Press Secretary Owen Peckham with accusations about the massacre. Although the reporter was more or less blown off by Peckham, he had made a big impression, managing to keep the story going for weeks, even though no proof of its veracity was ever presented.

WHEN Wallenger reached the GNB offices, he went straight to the network president, Don Allen, with the scoop. He couldn't wait to tell Allen about this latest coup, and he was looking forward to the next White House news conference with fierce glee.

.

AL-BAHRSHATT, KUWAIT

7 JULY 1430 HOURS

KHALIL Farouk was the agent-at-large of the Jihad Abadi terrorist group controlled by the Iranian government. The man had been instrumental in recruiting the Englishman Arsalaan Sikes--ne Archibald Sikes--into the organization after talking him into deserting from his British Army unit stationed in Iraq. At the moment Farouk was in this seaside town on the Persian Gulf to recruit mujahideen for a special operation.

The terrorist agent's point of contact was Kaif Jamil, who was coordinator for several insurgent groups scattered throughout the Middle East. Jamil's specialty was the recruitment, training, and placement of suicide bombers. He did his work under the noses of the American forces stationed in the vicinity, and had even sent supernumeraries into Palestine to help out Hamas from time to time. The cover story he used to conceal his true activities from his neighbors was that he managed a labor-hiring contract firm that filled requests for semiskilled workers needed in both industry and agriculture.

At this point in time, Farouk and Jamil were seated in the back room of the latter's place of business, and Jamil stared in unabashed disbelief at Farouk. "How many men did you say you wanted, Brother Farouk?"

"Fifty."

Jamil stared at him open-mouthed for an instant. "Uh . . . you said khamstash, correct?"

"No," Farouk replied. "I said khamsin. Fifty, not fifteen."

"I never inquire into actual locales or purposes in these operations of martyrdom for obvious reasons of security," Jamil said. "But my curiosity is piqued to the extent I almost feel like asking." He cleared his throat. "Ahem. But I shall not."

"How long will it take you to gather the martyrs, and where may I collect them?"

Jamil stroked his beard. "Let me think . . . two weeks, I believe. There are several of our
jihaden
who are now planning attacks. I am sure they will gladly relinquish some of their
shahiden
if the cause is great enough."

"I assure you it is a most vital and auspicious sacrifice the
shahiden
will make," Farouk said. "It will aid in the liberation of an entire Islamic nation from the cruel grip of the infidels."

"I am not surprised, Brother," Jamil said. "The fact that you require fifty sacrificial bombers is most impressive." He leaned back and let out a deep sigh. "Where do you wish these martyrs to assemble for you?"

"In Pakistan," Farouk said. "They are to arrive at Ali Jinnah International Terminal in Karachi. They will fly PIA from two Saudi cities--Al Hadidah and Riyadh--as well as Qatar and the United Arab Emirates. Divide them any way you wish, but the sponsor feels that if they arrive from at least four different locales, it will assure complete security and secrecy."

"That can be arranged," Jamil said. "However, there will be expenses-plane tickets, passports, logistics, rations, and other items. I estimate ninety thousand U. S. dollars."

"The funds will go to your bank in Saudi Arabia, Brother Jamil," Farouk said. "Am I to assume your estimate of the price includes the explosive materials?"

"Of course," Jamil said. "I will see that all of that is dispatched to you in our usual manner. Now let us turn our attention to the
shahiden.
What day do you desire their arrival in Karachi?"

"You say you need two weeks, so let us allow a bit of extra time," Farouk said. "Is it possible for them to arrive on the twenty-fifth of July?"

"I see no problem with that."

Farouk stood up. "Excellent. If you have any questions or information, I can be reached the same as always.
Ma'al salama,
Brother."

"And good-bye to you, Brother."

.

ZAHEYA POSITIONS

9 JULY 1030 HOURS

SIKES Pasha was in a bothersome mood. "I didn't think you blokes would ever do anything like that." He was seated in Brigadier Shahruz Khohollah's bunker with Captain Naser Khadid.

"May I give you a bit of advice, Major Sikes?" the brigadier said. "And please accept it as friendly counsel given from an older soldier to a younger."

"Yes, sir," Sikes said.

"Never commit yourself to one course of action in a strict style," the brigadier said. "It limits your options terribly. There are times when circumstances dictate changes in tactics and strategy."

"But I thought one of the important decisions behind Iran taking over all Middle East insurgencies was to put a stop to the waste of people in suicide bombings," the Brit said. "It was even said wot a shame it was that them suicide blokes wouldn't be able to make no more babies to grow up for Islam's struggle."

"The individuals who are going to be employed would martyr themselves within a few months at any rate," Khohollah argued. "If it will serve our cause to have them do it here in this valley to our front, then look upon it as Allah's will."

"To tell you the truth, I ain't all that religious," Sikes said.

"Well," Khohollah said, "at the present time we have much more to worry us than the fate of suicide-prone martyrs. We should turn our attention to how the arrival of the twenty reinforcements was discovered by the Americans."

"And soon enough to do something about it," Sikes added. "It's a bit o' bother, alright. Those were twenty damn good blokes wot was wiped out."

Khadid, who had been content to simply listen to the conversation, now joined in. "There is a leak, no doubt. A turncoat somewhere within our organization, and I would think the traitor is back in Iran somewhere. Perhaps he's serving on or near the General Staff."

"Whoever he is or whatever his position, it is baffling how he managed to get the information out," Khohollah said.

"I'll leave them intelligence blokes to work on that," Sikes said. "It ain't my cup o' tea worrying about spies and the like. I'll put me mind on keeping me defenses proper and manned. I can you tell you one thing for sure, gents. This next attack against them Amercians is gonna be a sight to behold, hey?"

CHAPTER
10

WHITE HOUSE

OFFICE OF THE PRESS SECRETARY

12 JULY 0945 HOURS

OWEN Peckham, the White House Press Secretary, sat at his desk slowly sipping a cup of coffee. He was tired, but not so much physically as one would be from overexercise or hard work. His fatigue was mental and spiritual, and the man was emotionally beaten down. The problems of disaster relief, border security, crooked lobbyists, the war against terrorism, and a myriad of other unpleasantness he had to deal with were draining him of all enthusiasm for his job. He wondered what else would pop up to plague him.

Peckham checked his watch, noting that within a quarter of an hour he would have to go out into the press room, where eager denizens of the media were ready to fire salvos of provocative questions at him--each journalist able to gain prestige, pay raises, and career advancement from beating up on the poor White House Press Secretary.

His attention was diverted when Arlene Entienne stepped into his office after a couple of raps on the door. Peckham gave her a nod and a smile. "How're you doing, Arlene?"

"Pretty well under the circumstances," the White House chief of staff answered, giving him a close look. "Are you coming down with a cold?"

He shook his head. "I'm just way down-period."

"Dear Owen," she said, sitting down in the chair to his direct front. "You've been through a hell of a lot."

"Oh, it's no more than you do, except I have to deal with those birds of prey out in that press room."

"And for that you have my sincerest sympathies," Arlene said. "But I think today they'll be beating a herd of dead horses. We've been through the same issues for several weeks now. The troubles in the Middle East are down to some suicide bombings, and that happens so often it doesn't attract much attention anymore. Those cold-blooded reporters are in a constant need of bad news to keep themselves in the limelight."

"Yeah," Peckham said, "you're right. They'll even reveal classified information if they run across any they think is newsworthy. Today I'm going to disarm them with a string of terse announcements. Maybe I'll create a vacuum they can suffocate in."

"I think you've got everything under control," Arlene said, standing up. "I just dropped by to see how you were doing. I've been worried about you."

"Your concern is much appreciated," Peckham said.

.

WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM

1000 HOURS

OWEN Peckham stood at the end of the short hall leading into the press room, with his hand on the doorknob. After three deep, steadying breaths, he opened the portal and stepped inside the room.

Now showing a confident and cheerful grin, he strode up to his podium and set his notes down on it. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! So nice to see you today." He nodded to several people he knew personally and had hobnobbed with at various social functions around Washington. "Hello, David. How are you, Betty? Jim, you're looking quite chipper today."

The crowd of journalists, all well known to the American public, sat in anticipation of the coming press conference, hoping something would happen, such as Peckham making a glaring slip in which some phenomenal misconduct by a member of the White House staff would be revealed.

"First I have some announcements to make," Peckham said. "As you know, indictments have gone out this week regarding the lobbying scandal. At this point I have no statements to make regarding that unhappy situation until the accused have shown up in court to plead their innocence or guilt. That's the American way; at least as long as we follow the principle of those under indictment being innocent until proven otherwise."

But that did not deter Joyce Bennington of the
Boston World Journal.
"How far into the White House has this situation penetrated?"

"As I said, Joyce," Peckham replied, "no statements will be issued at this time." He turned to his notebook. "The border security question is firmly resolved with the approval of not only National Guard but also active duty military units bolstering the Border Patrol until all the safeguards such as fences--both physical and electronic--are installed."

Brian Mackenzie of the
Ontario People's Advocate
spoke up. "Does the President really feel these drastic steps are necessary?"

"I wouldn't employ the adjective 'drastic,' " Peckham said, smiling at the Canadian. "I believe 'necessary' would be a more appropriate description. Anyhow, I'm surprised you're not up there in Canada looking into your own immigration procedures." He shifted into an impersonator, speaking in a contrived Canadian accent. "And I believe they've proved somewhat inadequate, hey?"

Some chuckles showed appreciation for his mimicry, and a wag in the back of the room spoke to the Canadian journalist, also out to hassle the guy, "You Canucks better start being more careful about all them foreign hosers getting visas to come to your snow pile, hey? There's probably more terrorists in Toronto than Baghdad, hey?"

"Now, now," Peckham said, "let's not make light of our neighbors to the north."

But he couldn't suppress a grin at that one; Mackenzie was a royal pain in the ass. "And to change the subject, all the misspent money on hurricane relief has been identified and the people responsible for this mismanagement face penalties for these oversights and mismanagement. I'm sorry, but I have no names to give you right at this time." He paused and surveyed the crowd. "Now I'm ready for more of your questions."

A short, pudgy man quickly got to his feet, quickly identifying himself. "Dirk Wallenger, Global News Broadcasting."

Peckham flinched inwardly in spite of the friendly smile he showed to Wallenger. "How are you, Dirk?"

"Fine, thank you, Owen," Wallenger said. "I am wondering if you have any comment or news regarding the wounded Arab prisoner who was summarily executed by an American Special Forces group in western Afghanistan on the seventeenth of June."