“Up yours,” I said. “You throw your best shot, and I’ll throw mine. I only came by to tell you that I’m throwing mine now. I’ve just written a long statement that exposes everything. Both of you are mentioned prominently. So is Clapper. So is General Foster. If I don’t make a call in forty minutes, that statement will be in the hands of the Herald, the Post, the Times, and Newsweek. Even your fancy NSA technology can’t stop it now.”
Tretorne shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re doing, how serious this is, what’s at stake.”
“But I do,” I assured him. “You and your big buddy here are out on a limb that’s breaking. You’re assassinating Serbs and it don’t get much more serious than that.”
The two of them looked at each other in shock. Murphy was so choked with surprise that he did not even reprimand me for calling him Tretorne’s big buddy. West Point would frown on him for letting that one slip by.
“Sit down. Please,” Tretorne said.
It was couched more like an invitation than a demand. Well, what the hell, I thought; at least he asked nice. That was my first sign that I was finally winning. I tried my damnedest not to smile.
He waited till I was seated and comfortable, then asked, “What do you think’s going on here? What we’re doing?”
I said, “I know what you’re doing. You’re using Green Berets to murder Serbs. Sort of a modern version of Operation Phoenix. ‘Sanction’ was the euphemism then, wasn’t it?”
“You’re wrong,” Murphy said. “Dead wrong.”
I said, “Is that right?”
Murphy scratched his big head with his big hand. “To start with, Operation Phoenix was the result of an informal handshake between the Special Forces and the CIA. It was done without official knowledge or permission. We’re operating with a presidential finding. You know what that means? This operation is fully approved by the President. It’s also known within a select committee of Congress.”
I didn’t expect to hear that. I thought he might be lying, but that proverbial voice we all have in the back of our heads warned me he wouldn’t be stupid enough to lie about something like this. It was too easy for me to say, Prove it.
He added, “Also, we’re not assassinating Serbs.”
I said, “Sorry, I’m not buying it.”
Murphy studied me for a moment, then said, “Please step out of the room. Just for a moment. No funny business, I promise. Jack and I need to speak.”
I didn’t like it, but I did it. I mean, what the hell, I had nothing to lose. Imelda and all four of her assistants were positioned at various locations around Tuzla, each poised over a fax machine, each ready to push a button. Each had a sealed envelope in her hand that contained a copy of the statement I’d written earlier. In less than forty minutes, those envelopes would be torn open, the electrons would start buzzing, and the cat would leap out of the bag. There was nothing Tretorne or Murphy or NSA could do to stop it.
About five minutes passed. The conference room had specially sealed doors, which I found awfully inconvenient, because I had my ear pressed to the crack but couldn’t hear even a murmur. When the door opened, Murphy waved his hand for me to reenter. I walked back in and took the same seat.
Murphy said, “Jack and I are going to clear you for this operation.”
I said, “Don’t think I’m falling for that. I’m not taking any vows of secrecy.”
Murphy nodded at Tretorne and I had the impression they’d guessed I’d say that. I wanted to thumb my nose at them, or pull down my pants and bend over, anything that would surprise them. So far, they’d managed to predict every move I’d made.
Then Tretorne said, “What’s happening here is we’re losing a war. We’re losing because it’s a NATO operation, and the President has his hands tied. Our allies are dead set against ground forces. All we’re allowed to do is bomb.”
Like a tag team, Murphy said, “You can’t win a war with bombs. That’s why we came up with the idea of building the KLA. We hoped to use them as our ground element, only they’ve been a terrible disappointment. Six or seven KLA units have done good work, but the rest are completely outmatched. They’re ineffective. Most just stay hidden in the woods, praying this thing will end. Several KLA teams have been chewed up and almost all the rest are demoralized.”
“That’s not a justification,” I said. “Assassination’s illegal.”
“We’re not assassinating anyone,” Tretorne said, sounding tired. “Guardian Angel is a ruse for an operation we call Avenging Angel. Some of the SF teams we’re sending into Kosovo with the KLA are selectively performing the missions their KLA units are supposed to be doing.”
“What kind of missions?” I asked.
“Raids, ambushes, interdicting supply lines. Several times, we’ve learned the Serbs were planning another massacre, and we had them go in and free the Kosovar prisoners. We’re very careful, believe me. No assassinations, no vigilante stuff.”
“That right?” I said. “Then what happened with Sanchez’s team?”
They exchanged more looks, and a lot of wind seemed to go out of their sails. Murphy’s face looked like it was trapped in a warp.
He said, “We don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“That’s right. The KLA company they were with, Akhan’s team, all of them were killed. We’re still not certain how it happened.”
“But Sanchez’s team wasn’t detected by the Serbs, was it? And they weren’t responding in self-defense, right?”
Tretorne said, “We have no way of knowing.”
“Bullshit.”
He said, “The satellite tapes and transcripts we showed you were forgeries. Somehow, you obviously figured that out. Our real images for those days showed no unusual activity for Sanchez’s team. We’ve got shots of them in their base camp, a few where they’re traveling… nothing, though, that shows them being detected or chased.”
“Then why-”
“Because we couldn’t allow Avenging Angel to be exposed,” Murphy said.
“I don’t get it.”
Tretorne was drumming a finger on the table. “When Sanchez’s team extricated, they didn’t report anything about the ambush. We didn’t learn of it until three days later when Milosevic started holding press conferences.”
I could hear little pieces beginning to fall into place.
“So you arrested Sanchez’s team?”
“Right,” Murphy said. “And they gave us the story about being detected and chased. Jack had NSA check their files and there was nothing that substantiated their story. Nothing contradicted it either, though.”
“Then why was I brought in?”
“That was decided back in Washington. The massacre suddenly had international attention. We all felt the easiest solution for all concerned was to conduct a genuine investigation. Sanchez’s team was sticking with their story, and we were ordered to make it a more convincing tale.”
“And where was this decided?” I asked.
Tretorne didn’t answer, at least verbally. He simply held up a hand and pointed at his cuff link.
I shook my head. Maybe Oliver Stone wasn’t as harebrained as I’d always thought.
With as much disdain as I could, I said, “So you cooked up a deal with Sanchez and his men. They work with you on the cover-up, and they walk away scot-free.”
Murphy did not appear the least bit fazed or ashamed to admit it. “That’s right,” he said, “except you’re forgetting one thing. We have no proof they’re guilty of anything. Maybe it happened exactly the way they said.”
“Really?” I said. “I went to the morgue. I saw the Serb corpses. How do you explain the holes in their heads?”
Tretorne finally stopped tapping the table. “Please believe me, we didn’t know about that until you reported it to Clapper. By then, this thing was already in motion.”
“But you didn’t do anything once you learned of it, did you? You kept right on with the cover-up.”
