“And did you cause that submarine to fire surface-to-air missiles that brought down three civilian aircraft?”
“Yessir.”
“And was that submarine operating under the command of the Islamic Republic of Iraq?”
“Yessir.”
“Then might I ask what the hell you are doing in the one country that wants you dead more than all the other countries in the world put together? And why have you made it so easy for us to nail you, right here?”
“Yessir. I have come here to bargain for my life. I have unique information that I believe has a value to you. You are correct to notice that I made my trail here relatively easy for you. But not so easy that you got here first. And I expect Mr. Baldridge will confirm I have shown no sign of being a serious threat to anyone. I am here to meet
“And what gives you the idea I couldn’t get any information I may need, out of you, for nothing?”
“You probably could get much of it from me — but not all of it. Not without my conscious, willing cooperation. And perhaps we should talk about that. I would, however, ask you to remember that I have always been prepared to die for my country and my beliefs, sir. That is the one thing that has never changed. You’ll either employ me, or I’ll quite happily die with my secrets.”
“I guess we’ll see about that…Bill, can you take me to the house for a cup of coffee, before I get angry with this fucking towelhead?”
“Sure can, Admiral…how is it you like it?”
“Black, asshole…I mean former asshole…with buckshot.” Both men laughed, and Bill put an arm around the wide shoulders of the great man as they headed for the house, accompanied by two Secret Servicemen.
Bill called back, “I’ll send coffee out for everyone in a minute…guard that bastard…he’s dangerous.”
Inside the house Bill led the way to the big log fire in the hall, and suggested the two agents might like to go into the kitchen, where his wife Laura was, with the housekeeper Betty-Ann Jones. But at that moment Laura came into the hall, dressed in snappy Western garb, light brown suede tailored trousers, white shirt, and a dark green Indian-patterned waistcoat. She walked straight over to the admiral and kissed him on the cheek. “Arnold,” she said. “How lovely to see you. Will you stay for a couple of days?”
The admiral slipped his arm around her waist. “Wouldn’t you rather I got rid of the world’s most dangerous man for you?” he said. “Can’t stay this trip…we’re outta here by five at the latest…will you invite me again?”
“Of course…did Bill tell you how we caught the Iraqi?”
“Not yet. I’m ready though.”
The former submarine commander then recounted the adventure that had taken place the previous evening, culminating with the pivotal moment when Laura had rammed her grandfather’s Purdey into the back of Adnam’s head, with a view to blowing it off.
“She told him she expected to get the Congressional Medal of Honor for marksmanship,” chuckled Bill.
“Damn right, she would,” said the admiral. “And any other award she wanted…. What happened then…your boys just moved in and made him secure?”
“That’s it. Tied him up good and tight. And kept him under guard till you guys showed up. What now? You taking him back?”
“Yup. I wanna have another little talk with him in a minute. He seems ready to tell us anything we want to know right now.”
“That’s how I’m reading it, Arnold. He told me last night he wanted a deal, and for his part he would disclose anything we wanted.”
“And in return for that he wants his life.”
“Guess so. But I’m getting the feeling he’s been betrayed by Iraq. Otherwise, he woulda gone straight home to Baghdad and kept his head down. Also, I have to say that before Laura made her dramatic entry with the Purdey, Adnam had essentially turned over his weapon. He had placed the knife on the chair. He was unarmed. He was actually surrendering.”
“Hmmmm. Bill, let’s go through this thing the way we used to, back in Fort Meade. Let’s think this through, item by item. I’m going to write down a list of the certain facts…” And with that, the admiral pulled out his little notebook and pen, and wrote down his prime thoughts thus:
1. ADNAM, DESPITE KNOWING THAT ALMOST ANY AMERICAN WOULD KILL HIM AS SOON AS LOOK AT HIM, HAS GIVEN HIMSELF UP, LAYING AN OBVIOUS TRAIL TO THE B-BAR-B IN THE PROCESS.
2. HE DOES NOT APPEAR PARTICULARLY REPENTANT.
3. HE PERHAPS DOES NOT GREATLY VALUE HIS LIFE.
4. HE MUST KNOW A GREAT DEAL ABOUT THE MIDDLE EAST — NOT ALL OF WHICH CAN BE OBTAINED WITHOUT HIS CONSCIOUS COOPERATION.
5. THE HISTORY, AND THE FINE DETAILS, WILL BE OF QUESTIONABLE VALUE. AGENTS TEND TO BE TOLD ONLY WHAT THEY NEED TO KNOW. BUT THIS ONE IS SPECIAL, HE WILL KNOW MORE THAN MOST, AND HIS REAL VALUE IS LIKELY TO LIE IN THE FUTURE.
6. HE HAS OUTWITTED ME, ARNOLD MORGAN, EVERY INCH OF THE WAY. CHRIST! I’VE JUST FUCKING WELL REPORTED TO HIM! CAN I NOW USE HIM? IS THAT WHAT HE IS REALLY OFFERING?
7. OR, IS THIS SOME OTHER TORTUOUS PLAN, INTENDED SOMEHOW TO FUCK UP MY LIFE.
8. MIGHT THIS SONOFABITCH BE ON A SUICIDE MISSION TO KILL THE PRESIDENT’S NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISOR? (N.B. KEEP SAID SONOFABITCH MANACLED, AND DISARMED, FOR NOW).
“Dunno. But I think he might. If, as I suspect, the Iraqis have dropped him.”
Betty-Ann brought in the coffee, and the two former U.S. Navy colleagues sat companionably in big leather armchairs, which had Kanza Indian blankets thrown over them.
“Seems real strange, after all these years, to think Ben Adnam’s out there in that barn, eh?” Admiral Morgan was thoughtful. He sipped the hot coffee, then he asked Bill, “Do you think we could, under any circumstances, use this bastard for our own purposes?”
“I think it would be a political impossibility. Christ, if the public ever found out precisely who he is, and even half of what he’s done, we could end up with the first lynch mob of the twenty-first century.”
“Hmmmm. I wonder what he knows? I wonder if he could put a finger on any of that germ-warfare activity that’s been going on in Iraq. What about their agents in this country and the UK?”
“I’d guess he knows more than they think. Whether he tells us may depend on how badly they’ve pissed him off. My own view, Arnold, is that his great value to us will be to give us a first-class psychological profile into the Iraqi mind-set.”
“I agree. I am certain they’ve pissed him off real badly; otherwise, he could not possibly have contemplated coming here. Not even to see your beautiful wife, the thought of which has been scaring the life out of me these past two or three days.”
Bill grinned. “Bet he never thought she’d nail him with the earl of Jedburgh’s pheasant gun,” he said, smiling.
“No. I wouldn’t think that was any part of his plan…but the question is, do we think Adnam is just too risky, too treacherous, too big a liar even to consider doing business with? I must say, Bill, my immediate instinct is to kill him now. Although I could be persuaded to wring him out first, then eliminate him. But…
“Admiral, comfortable and pleasant though this is, let’s get back out there, and you have another go at him. Let’s ask him about the submarine…the part that was worrying my father-in-law…that and the fishing boat.”
“Okay, old pal. Let’s get out there and see how forthcoming he is.”
It was raining lightly, and both men put on their hats for the short walk to the horse barn. Inside they found the two CIA chiefs working on a detailed report of the journey and the preliminary interrogation that had already taken place. Everyone had coffee, and Ben Adnam was still sitting on a bale of straw, tightly bound. There had been no further conversation since the admiral left, and no one was untying the Iraqi until Morgan gave the word which,
