Rogue Forces

Thompson realized that if Patrick had hacked into the security system once, he could just as easily do it again, with or without his permission. “Thank you, sir, but frankly I don’t believe that.”

“I’m serious, Kris. You tell me to shut it down, and it’s done…period.”

What if he didn’t shut it down? Thompson asked himself. What recourse did he have against a private contractor? He vowed to research the answer to that question right away. “I’m not going to argue about it, sir,” Kris said. “But you are here to assist me in securing this sector, so you can tie back in if you think it’s essential to your job. Just tell me when you’re back in, why, and what you’ve found.”

“Done. Thank you.”

“What other security-related areas were you able to access?”

“Colonel Jaffar’s internal security network.”

A cold sweat popped out under Kris’s collar. “Internal security? He doesn’t have an internal security staff. You mean his personal bodyguards?”

“That may be what you think it is, Kris, but it looks to me like he’s got an entire shadow J-staff—operations, intelligence, logistics, personnel, training, and security,” Jon said. “They do everything in Arabic, and there’s no foreigners on it that we can see.”

“That means that he has his men in charge of the entire regiment’s departments and command structure,” Patrick summarized, “so he’s kept abreast of everything you do, plus he’s got an entire J-staff operating in the background, paralleling the regimental staff functions.” He turned to Kris and added, “So if, for example, something were to happen to the Triple-C…”

“He’d be able to take over right away and continue operations himself,” Kris said. “Pretty fucking scary.”

“It could be suspicious, or it could be smart on his part,” Jon said. “He could even argue that your Status of Forces agreement allows him to have his own separate command staff.”

“Besides,” Patrick added, “you guys are trying to wind down military operations in Iraq and turn it over to the locals; this could just help facilitate that. No reason to automatically think something nefarious is going on.”

“I’ve been in security long enough to know that if the ‘oh shit’ meter starts twitching, something bad is happening,” Kris said. “Can you plug back into Jaffar’s network and advise me if you see something unusual, sir?”

“I’m sure we can link it up again, Kris,” Patrick said. “We’ll let you know.”

“I feel bad about giving you the hairy eyeball about hacking our security systems and then asking you to spy for me, sir.”

“Not a problem. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I do tend to jump first and ask questions later.”

A few minutes later the mission briefing commenced. It was very much like the mission briefings Patrick had conducted in the Air Force: time hacks, overview, weather, current intelligence, status of all the units involved, and then briefings by each unit and department on what they were going to be doing. All of the participants sat at their stations and briefed one another over the intercom system, while putting PowerPoint or computerized slides up on the screens in the back of the Tank and on individual displays. Patrick saw Gia Cazzotto at one of the consoles farthest from the dais, taking notes and looking very serious.

“Here’s the rundown on the Iraqi army’s operation, sir,” the “Battle Major,” Kenneth Bruno, began. “The Iraqi Seventh Brigade is sending the entire Maqbara Company of heavy infantry, about three hundred shooters, along with Major Jaafar Othman himself in the headquarters element. Maqbara Company is probably Seventh Brigade’s only pure infantry unit—all the rest are focused on security, police, and civil affairs—so we know this is a big deal.

“The target, what we are calling Reconnaissance Objective Parrot, is a suspected hidden tunnel complex north of the small village of Zahuk. Contact time is oh-three-hundred hours local. Othman will deploy two platoons of Iraqi troops to establish security around the town east and west, while two platoons will drive in for the tunnel network from the south and sweep it clean.”

“What about the north, Bruno?” Wilhelm asked.

“I think they’re hoping they’ll escape to the north so the Turks will take care of them.”

“Are the Turks involved in this thing at all?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Anyone advise them that the IA is going to be operating close to the border?”

“That’s the Iraqis’ job, sir.”

“Not when we have guys in the field.”

“Sir, we’re prohibited from contacting the Turks about an Iraqi operation without permission from Baghdad,” Thompson said. “It’s considered a security breach.”

“We’ll see about that shit,” Wilhelm spat. “Comm, get division on the line—I want to talk with the general directly. Thompson, if you have any back-channel contacts in Turkey, call them and unofficially suggest that something might be going on at Zahuk tonight.”

“I’ll get on it, Colonel.”

“Make it happen,” Wilhelm snapped. “The Turks are bound to be jumpy as hell after what just happened to them. Okay, what about Warhammer?”

“Warhammer’s mission is to back up the Iraqi army,” Bruno went on. “In the air, Third Special Ops Squadron will launch two MQ-9 Reapers, each carrying an imaging infrared sensor ball, laser designator, two 160-gallon external fuel tanks, and six AGM-114 Hellfire laser-guided missiles. On the ground, Warhammer will send Second Platoon, Bravo Company, to recon behind the Iraqis. They will be positioned south, east, and west of Maqbara Company and observe. The Strykers’ main task is to fill in the picture of the battle space and assist if necessary. Division is sending their Global Hawk to keep an eye on the entire battle space.”

“The operative word here is observe, kiddies,” Wilhelm cut in. “Weapons will be tight on this op, understand? If you come under fire, take cover, identify, report, and await orders. I don’t want to be accused of shooting friendlies, even if the IA gets turned around and takes a shot at us. Continue.”

“Back at Nahla, Warhammer has two Apache helicopters from Fourth Aviation Regiment armed and fueled and ready to fly, loaded with rockets and Hellfires,” Bruno said. “We also have the Seventh Air Expeditionary Squadron, one B-1B Lancer bomber in patrol orbit Foxtrot. Colonel Cazzotto is acting as air combat controller.”

“A real cluster fuck all right,” Wilhelm growled. “That’s all we need is for the Air Farce to scream in and start dropping JDAMs on the IAs—they’re liable to trample our Strykers as they turn tail and run.” Patrick looked for a reaction from Gia, but she kept her head down and continued to take notes. “Okay: security. What’s the FPCON on the base, Thompson?”

“Currently Bravo, Colonel,” Kris replied, a telephone to his ear, “but an hour before we open the gates and deploy, we automatically go to Delta.”

“Not good enough. Go to Delta right now.”

“Colonel Jaffar wants to be notified before any change in THREATCON level.”

Wilhelm glared over at Thompson’s station and his mouth tightened when he saw he was not there. He turned to his deputy. “Send Jaffar a message telling him that I’m recommending bumping up the THREATCON now,” he said, “then do it, Thompson. Don’t wait for his approval.” Weatherly got right to it. They saw Wilhelm look around the Tank. “Where the hell are you, Thompson?”

“Up in the observation deck making sure the general is situated.”

“Get your ass down here where you belong, put us at THREATCON Delta, then assign someone to babysit the contractors. I need you at your damned post.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“General, where is your plane and your guys?” Wilhelm asked, glaring up at the observation deck. “They better be put away.”

“The plane and all my technicians are in the hangar,” Patrick responded. He was happy to see Gia had looked up at him, too. “The plane is on external power and with full connectivity.”

“Whatever the hell that means,” Wilhelm shot back, glaring up at McLanahan. “I just want to make sure you and your stuff are not in my way when we break out.”

“We’re all in the hangar as requested, Colonel.”

“I don’t request anything around here, General: I order it, and it gets done,”