Fisk took a breath. The silence hung between them while Merrick returned his attention to the CIA report which was completely barren of any valuable information. Sometimes he would read dozens of pages of material which he knew in his heart was prepared by someone simply trying to impress him with their ability to write a report.
Finally Fisk said, “Truth be told, the Kurds have a strong case. It’s just their delivery method is a bit violent.”
At that Merrick glanced up. “You think?”
Fisk shrugged. “This goes back decades, John. You’re not going to settle it with a half hour conversation.”
Merrick scrolled again. “Wow, talk about bringing a guy down. I won’t tell you about my plan to cure cancer over lunch.”
Fisk reached over and snatched a toothpick with a piece of cantaloupe attached. He dropped the melon in his mouth and chewed. When he was done chewing he said, “They don’t have much to offer.”
Merrick looked up. “Excuse me?”
Fisk pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the closed door.
Merrick understood. The Turkish ambassador was waiting for a meeting with him. Turkey had little to offer the United States. They didn’t even produce enough oil to satisfy their own needs. Their biggest exports were boron salt and copper. Not exactly a powerful trading partner. What they did have, however, was the most world’s most dangerous terrorist organization operating in their backyard, which made them a necessary component to the fight on terrorism.
Merrick waved the back of his hand at Fisk. “Get out of here and send that twerp in.”
Fisk grabbed another melon piece and slowly got to his feet. They’d known each other for three decades, so Merrick could talk to him like that without worrying about hurting his ego.
Merrick took his tablet and sat tall behind his desk. He wanted the ambassador to sense the full brunt of his authority.
A few seconds after Fisk left, there was a three-bang-knock on the door signaling the arrival of a scheduled guest. Necmetin Ciller stepped into the Oval Office. He was tall, thin and fidgety as he approached to shake Merrick’s hand. Merrick gestured to a seat in front of the massive presidential desk.
Ciller took his seat and gripped the arm rests as if they might take flight.
“How are you, Mr. President?”
“Not so well,” Merrick answered. “I’m finding some of your residents taking shots at our government agents.”
“They may be residents of Turkey, Mr. President, but I assure you they are not representing our nation in any way.”
“But you have the ability to do something about them.”
“Sir, I promise you we have done-”
“Do more.”
“Mr. President, you must understand, these are not reasonable people. They will not adhere to any agreement.”
Merrick came to his feet and began a slow pace behind his desk. “I’m going to tell you something Mr. Ciller. I can relate to the Kurds here. These people deserve a place to call home. A territory of their own.” He turned in time to see the ambassador’s face cringe.
“And I have come to an important decision,” Merrick continued his methodical pace back and forth, hands in his pockets. “I’m considering the withdrawal of our peacekeeping troops in Turkey at the first of the year.”
This had the ambassador on his toes, leaning forward in his chair, almost ashen.
Merrick paused, arching an eyebrow. “Does that concern you?”
“Mr. President, please. This is such a radical move. Don’t you think you should consult with the Prime Minister before making such a bold decision?”
Merrick stopped to look outside the bulletproof window. From his vantage point he could see over the south lawn to the Rose Garden. The view helped to calm him. Nick Bracco was the FBI agent who stopped the last session of terrorist attacks on American soil and Merrick was in no mood to allow the KSF another chance to murder him. Before he even knew what he was doing Merrick was rolling up his sleeves, involuntarily, his temper rising with the thought of his best terrorist agents becoming targets.
Merrick turned and saw the concern on the ambassador’s face.
“The United States could be a very good friend to have, Mr. Ciller.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“And good friends tend to be there when you need them.”
“Yes,” came the anxious voice.
“Well, Mr. Ciller, should Turkey decide they need America to be it’s close ally, they need to act like it.”
The ambassador nodded.
“Because you don’t want America to become that friend who merely sends you a Christmas card each year detailing what their family has done over the past twelve months.”
The ambassador shook his head.
Merrick leaned over his desk, fists on the wooden structure, jaw tight, the American flag over his right shoulder. “Temir Barzani is in our country killing our government agents. I need you to tell the Prime Minister that I’ve run out of patience. You either sign a peace agreement with the Kurds, or find a way to diffuse Barzani’s power here in the states.”
“Mr. President …” the ambassador stopped when he saw Merrick tilt his head in a disapproving manner. He seemed to know he’d spoken too soon.
“Or I will remove our troops and put you on our Christmas card list,” Merrick said in a low controlled voice.
The ambassador said nothing “Go Mr. Ciller. Go tell the Prime Minister about our meeting here.”
Ciller got to his feet. He seemed to question whether to shake Merrick’s hand, then decided not to. As he backed away from the President, he seemed appropriately shaken up.
Merrick raised his eyebrows. “It’s time to get creative, Mr. Ambassador.”
The ambassador nodded and appeared to understand what the President was suggesting.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
When the ambassador turned to leave, he kept nodding, with an expression of comprehension on his face. Merrick was glad to see that because he had no idea what he himself meant by the comment. He’d only hoped Mr. Ciller was frightened enough to translate effectively.
• • •
Matt allowed the Iron Mountain team to interrogate Semir Jetake, which he knew would do nothing but buy him time to strategize. Buck Martin and two of his commandos had Semir handcuffed and on his knees in a subservient position, while they grilled him for information. Matt and Tommy stood twenty yards away and watched the proceedings with disgusted expressions while Jennifer Steele and Luke Fletcher checked their cell phones for messages.
“He really thinks that guy is gonna squeal on his terrorist buddies?” Tommy asked.
Matt grimaced as Buck backhanded Semir’s face. “He’s stuck in his ways. Nothing I say is going to change his mind.”
“Well, someone better,” Tommy said. “Or that kid’s gonna get killed for nothing.”
The two of them watched Buck spit into Semir’s face.
Matt shook his head. “He’s making it worse. We need to shake these guys before they start using loudspeakers to announce their intentions.”
Tommy waved his hand at the soldiers surrounding Buck. “You gonna pick a fight with those guys?”
Matt was outnumbered, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch them murder the young Kurd just because Buck’s team had immunity. He looked around at the faces of Buck’s men and realized who they were. They’d all joined the service for the right reasons and Matt hoped those reasons still lurked beneath the surface.
He approached the interrogation and briskly yanked Semir to his feet. “Let me take a crack at this,” he said.
