Rogue Forces

body armor, and just like that we’ll need a new vice president.”

“Je-sus, Stacy, don’t even joke about shit like that,” Gardner breathed. His eyes rose in surprise at her words; he waited to see if she would smile and laugh the dark thought away, but was not shocked to see that she did not.

“I would never wish any harm on the lovely and hunky Kenneth Timothy Phoenix,” she said. “But he is going into harm’s way, and you need to think about what we’ll do if the worst happens.”

“I would have to appoint his replacement, of course. I’ve got a list.”

Barbeau put the bourbon on a table and slowly, tantalizingly, approached the president. “Am I on your list, Mr. President?” she asked in a low, sultry voice, running her fingers under the lapels of his jacket, caressing his chest.

“Oh, you’re on many lists, darlin.’ But then I’d have to hire a food taster around here, wouldn’t I?”

She didn’t stop—and, he noticed, she didn’t refute his joke, either. “I don’t want the office by succession, Joe—I know I can earn it on my own,” she said in a low, rather singsong voice. She looked up at him with her beautiful green eyes…and Gardner saw nothing but menace in them. She kissed him lightly on the lips again, her eyes open and staring directly into his, and after the kiss she added, “But I’ll take it any way I can.”

The president smiled and shook his head ruefully as she headed for the door. “I don’t know who’s in greater danger, Miss Secretary of State: the vice president in Iraq…or whoever gets in your way right here in Washington.”

RESIDENCE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF TURKEY

THAT SAME TIME

“How dare he?” Turkish minister of national defense Hasan Cizek stormed as President Hirsiz replaced the receiver on the hook. “That is an insult! Gardner should apologize to you, and do it immediately!”

“Calm yourself, Minister,” Prime Minister Ays?e Akas said. With her, Hirsiz, and Cizek was the entire national security staff: secretary-general of the Turkish National Security Council General Orhan Sahin, foreign minister Mustafa Hamarat, military chief of staff General Abdullah Guzlev, and Fevsi Guclu, the director of the National Intelligence Organization, which performed all domestic and foreign intelligence operations. “Gardner was upset and not thinking straight. And he heard that obscenity. Are you insane?”

“Don’t apologize for that drunkard lech, Prime Minister,” Foreign Minister Mustafa Hamarat said. “The president of the United States shouldn’t pop off at a head of state and an ally—I don’t care how tired or upset he is. He lost his head in a time of crisis, and that was wrong.”

“Everyone, quiet down,” President Kurzat Hirsiz said, holding up his hands almost as if in surrender. “I took no offense. We made the requisite call and apologized—”

“Groveled is more like it!” Cizek spat.

“Our rockets killed a dozen Americans and probably several dozen Iraqis, Hasan; maybe a little groveling is warranted here.” Hirsiz scowled at the minister of national defense. “It’s what he says or does next that will tell.” He turned to the secretary-general of the National Security Council. “General, are you absolutely positive that your information was accurate, actionable, and an immediate response was required?”

“I am positive, sir,” he heard a voice say. He turned and saw General Besir Ozek, commander of the Jandarma, standing in the doorway to his office, with a frightened aide behind him. Ozek had taken off all the bandages on his face, neck, and hands, and the sight was truly repulsive.

“General Ozek!” Hirsiz blurted out, momentarily shocked by the general’s presence, then nauseated by his appearance. He swallowed hard, squinting against the revulsion he felt, then ashamed for letting the others see it. “I didn’t summon you, sir. You are not well. You should be in hospital.”

“There was no time to notify the Americans either—and if we did, the information would have been leaked to PKK sympathizers, and the opportunity would have been lost,” Ozek went on, as if the president had not said a word.

Hirsiz nodded, turning away from Ozek’s awful wounds. “Thank you, General. You are dismissed.”

“If I may speak freely, sir: my heart is sickened by what I just heard,” Ozek said.

“General?”

“Sickened by the number of times I heard the president of the Republic of Turkey apologize like a young boy caught feeding the goldfish to the cat. With all due respect, Mr. President, it was repulsive.”

“That’s enough, General,” Prime Minister Akas said. “Show some respect.”

“We were doing nothing more than defending our nation,” Ozek said angrily. “We have nothing to apologize for, sir.”

“Innocent Americans died, General…”

“They thought they were chasing al-Qaeda in Iraq terrorists, not PKK,” Ozek retorted. “If the Iraqis had any brains, they would know as well as we that the tunnel complex was a PKK hideout, not al-Qaeda.”

“Are you sure of this, General?”

“Positive, sir,” Ozek insisted. “Al-Qaeda insurgents hide and operate in the cities, not the countryside like the PKK. If the Americans bothered to learn this—or if the Iraqis cared—this incident would not have happened.”

President Hirsiz fell silent and turned away—to think, as well as not to have to look at Ozek’s terrible wounds. “Nevertheless, General, the incident has sparked anger and outrage in Washington, and we must appear conciliatory, apologetic, and utterly cooperative,” he said after a few moments. “They will send investigators, and we must assist their inquiry.”

“Sir, we can’t let that happen,” Ozek cried. “We can’t let the Americans or the international community keep us from defending this nation. You know as well as I that the focus of any investigation will be about our faults and our policies, not about the PKK or their attacks. We must act, now. Do something, sir!”

The prime minister’s eyes blazed in anger. “As you were, General Ozek!” she shouted. The veteran Jandarma officer’s eyes blazed, which made his visage even more frightful. The prime minister raised a finger at him to silence his expected retort. “Not another word, General, or I will order Minister Cizek to relieve you of your post, and I will strip the rank off your uniform myself.”

“If all we had hit were PKK terrorists, few outside our country would have cared about the strike,” Ozek said. “Our people would have seen this as what it truly was: a major victory against the PKK, not an example of military incompetence or racism.”

“Minister Cizek, you will relieve General Ozek of command,” Akas said.

“I recommend calm here, Madam Prime Minister…” Cizek sputtered. “There has been a terrible accident, yes, but we were only doing our duty to protect our country…”

“I said, I want Ozek dismissed!” the prime minister shouted. “Do it now!”

“Shut up!” President Hirsiz shouted, almost pleading. “Everyone, please shut up!” The president looked as if his internal struggles were ready to tear him apart. He looked at his advisers and seemed to find no answers. Turning back to Ozek, he said in a quiet voice, “Many innocent Americans and Iraqis were killed tonight, General.”

“I am sorry, sir,” Ozek said. “I take full responsibility. But will we ever learn how many PKK terrorists we killed tonight? And if the Americans or Iraqis leading this so-called investigation ever told us how many terrorists were eliminated, will we ever get the chance to tell the world what they did to innocent Turks?” Hirsiz did not respond, only stared at a spot on the wall, so Ozek stiffened to attention and turned to leave.

“Wait, General,” Hirsiz said.

“You’re not going to consider that idea, Kurzat!” Prime Minister Akas said, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“The general is right, Ays?e,” Hirsiz said. “This is yet another incident for which Turkey will be vilified…” And at that, he reached down, grasped his chair with both hands, and toppled it over with a quick thrust: “and I am sick of it! I am not going to look into the eyes of Turkish men and women and make more promises and excuses! I want it to end. I want the PKK to fear this government…no, I want the Americans, the Iraqis, the whole world to fear us! I’m tired of being everyone’s patsy! Minister Cizek!”