he quickly replaced it and continued to fire as he withdrew, walking backward. Suddenly he was flanked by Joe Miskoski and Connie Concord. The mixed fire of bullets and grenades forced the attackers to hit the dirt and scramble for cover.
Brannigan's angry voice came over the LASH. 'You three get the hell out of there. The chopper isn't gonna wait all day.'
The trio turned and rushed toward the waiting aircraft. The firing at them increased until bullets cracked the air around their heads and kicked up spurts of dirt from the ground they ran across. At the same moment that they scurried up the ramp into the interior of the chopper, the pilot worked collective and cyclic to race into a very steep and rapid turn before climbing for altitude.
Good ol' AFSOC!
CHAPTER 16
GLOBAL NEWS
BROADCASTING LIMOUSINE WASHINGTON, D. C.
8 AUGUST 1900 HOURS
THE limodriver/bodyguard Lazlo Czernk followed the orders for that evening's ride as he rolled slowly over the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge toward Virginia. The window between the burly man and his passengers was up, and although he couldn't hear a word that passed between the two men, it was obvious to him that it was not a pleasant conversation.
Dirk Wallenger, with his lower lip protruding, looked like a petulant little boy as he sat pressed up against the side of the car. His eyebrows were knitted into a frown, and he displayed his usual body language expression of anger by crossing his arms across his chest. On the opposite side of the seat, leaning toward him with an intent expression, Don Allen, the CEO of Global News Broadcasting, was speaking seriously in an authoritative tone.
'Dirk, you pay very close attention to what I'm telling you,' Allen said. 'This is not a situation to take lightly.'
'Mmf!' Wallenger said. 'You're caving in, Don!'
'Oh, no!' Allen snapped. 'Don't take that attitude with me, Dirk. There are certain times when reality must be faced up to firmly and coldly. And I must admit that there have been instances in the past when you went overboard on some of your stories, but I've never reined you in before.
However, I'm going to this time. You can be absolutely certain about that.'
'Am I supposed to believe you've decided to support that stupid war in the Middle East?'
'I am not supporting the war at all,' Allen said. 'And what I am telling you to do is not supporting that conflict either. But there is one thing of disagreeing with government policy and another when it comes to turning against the people serving over there.'
'These are not draftees, for Chrissake, like in Vietnam!' Wallenger cried. 'They are professional killers. They don't deserve any consideration whatsoever.'
'Let me remind you of something,' Allen said through clenched teeth. 'I'll be the first to admit that we at Global News Broadcasting have an agenda. I'm a leftist . . . a socialist . . . a nonconformist . . . a Bolshevik, if you will. And I've grown up with an innate distrust of authority. But the bottom line is that GNB is in business to inform and support the American public. Now, supposedly that's the average guy on the street and his wife and kids. Nowadays, both husband and wife have to work to afford a decent standard of living. Understand? They are not members of our particular social class, Dirk. You and I are both from wealthy families. We had opportunities for education and a lifestyle that the average U. S. citizen can only dream about.'
'So what?' Wallenger said. 'We didn't choose our families, did we? We were born into advantageous circumstances because of a chance meeting between a certain sperm and a certain egg in our mothers' wombs. I am not going to be apologetic about it. In fact, I am devoting my life to helping that average Joe have a better existence in this unfair world. All I want for him and his family is equality and justice.'
'That's fine, Dirk. But you don't help anybody by attacking them! You help them by attacking the injustices in the system. And that's the key word--the system!'
Wallenger turned his head to glare in righteous indignation at his boss. 'I am not attacking the people!'
'When you accuse servicemen and servicewomen of atrocities, you are attacking the people,' Allen argued. 'That's where the soldiers and sailors come from. Our social equals aren't over there in the military. The ones fighting, dying, and getting maimed are the kids of workers--those average Joes we're talking about. I'm sure some of them have committed atrocities, albeit only a minuscule percent. But those who have done so were put in the situations where they lose control by the government you and I hate. When nineteen-or twenty-year-old kids see their buddies killed by a treacherous enemy, some of them are going to eventually lose their heads and strike back most viciously. Instead of condemning those guys, let's take off after the assholes who sent them over there in the first place. Or perhaps I should say the assholes who are making the mistakes that intensify and lengthen this disaster. Does that make sense to you?'
'The guys who killed that wounded prisoner were Army Special Forces,' Wallenger said. 'They are professional killers. Gangsters! A Mafia in uniform!'
'I've learned they were Navy SEALs,' Allen said. 'You're not even going after the right guys.' He paused. 'And that accusation you made is false. The individual who was killed was a prisoner trying to escape who blundered into a deadly cobra snake. He was not wounded and lying helpless on the ground, as you have intimated.'
'I was making a point!'
'Oh, my God! That is so fucking lame!'
'The first casualty of war is the truth,' Wallenger said. 'Both sides of an issue use propaganda. If one doesn't, they will be at a marked disadvantage.'
'Now you're being very unprofessional, Dirk,' Allen said coldly. 'You're lying to back up your own attitudes and opinions. There's no worse sin for a journalist to commit.'
'Good can come out of it.'
'Do you want to end up like Dan Rather at CBS News?' Allen asked. 'He wanted to nail President Bush so much that he went after him with the wrong data. He should have checked it out, but he let his own agenda trip him up. Once a journalist's credibility is lost, he's no longer useful. Nobody will ever trust his reporting again.'
Wallenger sank into deeper pouting. 'You've been talking to that son of a bitch lawyer Frank Brice, haven't you?'
'I sure as hell have,' Allen said, now at the end of his patience. 'And you're going to do just as he says, so listen well, young man. On your next broadcast you will recant your original story. You will say that erroneous information had been given you. You will apologize, saying you should have checked it out more thoroughly. You will make a statement that the Navy SEALs did not shoot the prisoner while he lay wounded on the field of battle. Understand?'
'I'll need time to write it up,' Wallenger said sullenly.
'Frank Brice has already composed the delivery,' Allen said. 'And that's the one you'll use.' He leaned forward, picked the intercom handset, and spoke into it. 'Lazlo, take us to Mr. Wallenger's home now.'
Czernk turned off at the next exit, going under the overpass, then headed back east.
.
ARMY GENERAL HEADQUARTERS
TEHRAN, IRAN
9 AUGUST 0815 HOURS
MAJOR Arsalaan Sikes, Brigadier Shahruz Khohollah, and Captain Naser Khadid had arrived in Iran's capital city the night before from the OA in Afghanistan. They were given quarters in the transit billets of the local garrison, then picked up by an army sedan and driven to the national army's GHQ that morning. Now they sat in the presence of Major General Nirou Mandji, the Chief of Operations. Sikes had his left arm in a sling from the wound he had taken during the Americans' latest raid.
The general's office was not as luxurious or fancy as would be expected in the bailiwick of a Western officer of his rank. His desk was not made of mahogany or teakwood. In fact, there was no difference between it and that of his sergeant-clerk, stationed outside his door. Two portraits-one of the national President and the other of the Commanding General of the Army-were on the wall. The Iranian flag was mounted on the opposite side of the room. The floor was simple tile and not laid in too expertly, and the windows needed a wash. Sikes almost grinned
