“It’s total chaos and confusion up there in Ankara, Mr. Vice President,” Secretary of State Stacy Anne Barbeau said from her office in Washington via a secure satellite video teleconference link. Also attending was vice president Ken Phoenix, meeting with Iraqi leaders and the U.S. ambassador in Baghdad; and Colonel Jack Wilhelm, the commander of U.S. forces in northern Iraq, at Nahla Allied Air Base near the northern city of Mosul. “The Turkish prime minister herself called our ambassador on the carpet for an ass chewing because of an apparent airspace violation by an American aircraft, but now he’s sitting waiting in the outer office under heavy guard because of some security ruckus.”
“What is the embassy saying, Stacy?” Phoenix asked. “Are they in contact with the ambassador?”
“Cellular service is currently down, but outages have been the norm for a few days since the rumors of a state of emergency, Mr. Vice President,” Barbeau said. “Government radio and TV have been describing numerous demonstrations both for and against Hirsiz’s government, but they’ve mostly been peaceful and the police are handling it. The military has been quiet. There was some kind of gunfire incident at the Pink Palace, but the Presidential Guard says the president is safe and will address the nation later today.”
“That’s pretty much what the embassy here in Baghdad has been telling me,” Phoenix said. “Baghdad is concerned about the confusing news but hasn’t bumped up readiness levels.”
“I need an explanation of what happened on the Iraq-Turkish border, Colonel Wilhelm,” Barbeau said. “The Turks claim they shot down an American unmanned spy plane over their territory, and they’re hopping mad.”
“I can assure everyone that all American aircraft, unmanned or otherwise, are accounted for, ma’am,” Wilhelm said, “and we’re not missing any aircraft.”
“Does that include your contractors, Colonel?” Barbeau asked pointedly.
“It does, ma’am.”
“Who operates reconnaissance aircraft operating along the border? Is it that Scion Aviation International outfit?”
“Yes, ma’am. They operate two large and pretty high-tech long-range recon planes, and they’re bringing in smaller unmanned aircraft to supplement their activities.”
“I want to talk with the rep right now.”
“He’s standing by, ma’am. General?”
“‘General’?”
“The guy from Scion is a retired Air Force general, ma’am.” Barbeau’s eyes blinked in confusion—obviously she didn’t have that information. “Most of our contractors are retired or former military.”
“Well, where is he? Isn’t he working there with you, Colonel?”
“He doesn’t usually operate out of the Command and Control Center,” Wilhelm explained, “but out on the flight line. He’s networked his aircraft in with the Triple-C and to our few remaining assets.”
“I have no idea what you just said, Colonel,” Barbeau complained, “and I hope the Scion guy can make some sense and give us some answers. Get him on the line
Just then a new window popped open on the videoconference screen, and Patrick McLanahan, wearing a lightweight gray vest over a white collared shirt, nodded at the camera. “Patrick McLanahan, Scion Aviation International, secure.”
“
“Nice to see you, too, Miss Secretary of State,” Patrick said. “I assumed Secretary Turner had briefed you on Scion’s management.”
He suppressed a smile as he saw Barbeau struggling for control of her senses and voluntary muscles. The last time he had seen her was less than two years earlier when she was still the senior senator from Louisiana and the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. Patrick, who had surreptitiously returned from Armstrong Space Station, where he was under virtual house arrest, supervised loading Barbeau aboard an XR-A9 Black Stallion spaceplane to fly her from Elliott Air Force Base in Nevada to Naval Air Station Patuxent River in Maryland—a flight that took less than two hours.
Of course, Barbeau remembered none of this, because Patrick had had Hunter “Boomer” Noble seduce and then sedate her in a luxury hotel-casino suite in Las Vegas to prepare for her brief flight into space.
Patrick’s armored Tin Men and Cybernetic Infantry Device commandos then spirited her to the presidential retreat at Camp David, subdued the Secret Service and U.S. Navy security forces, and set up a confrontation between her and President Joseph Gardner over the future of the men and women who made up the U.S. Space Defense Force, which the president was ready to sacrifice in order to make peace with Russia. In exchange for not revealing Gardner’s secret dealings with the Russians, the president had agreed to allow anyone under McLanahan’s command who didn’t want to serve under Gardner to honorably retire from military service…
…and Patrick ensured the president’s continued cooperation by taking the entire remaining force of six Tin Men and two Cybernetic Infantry Device combat systems with him, along with spare parts, weapon packs, and the plans to make more of them. The advanced armored infantry performance enhancement systems had already proven they could defeat the Russian and Iranian armies as well as the U.S. Navy SEALs, and infiltrate the most highly guarded presidential retreats in the world—Patrick knew he had a lot of backup just in case the president tried to relieve himself of his McLanahan issue.
“Is there a problem here, Miss Secretary?” Vice President Phoenix asked. “I know you’ve met General McLanahan before.”
“I assure you, we made all the proper notifications and filings—I did them myself through the Air Force Civil Augmentee Agency,” Patrick said. “There’s been no conflict of—”
“Can we please get on with this?” Stacy Anne Barbeau suddenly blurted perturbedly. Patrick smiled to himself: he knew that a seasoned political pro like Barbeau knew how to pull herself into the here and now, no matter how utterly shocked she became. “General, it’s nice to see you hale and hearty. I should have known that retirement would never mean a rocking chair on the porch to someone like you.”
“I think you know me too well, Miss Secretary.”
“And I also know that you are not shy about stepping right on, and sometimes sneaking a foot or two across, the boundaries in your eagerness to get a job done,” Barbeau went on directly. “We received complaints from the Turks about stealthy aircraft, perhaps unmanned, overflying Turkish airspace without permission. Pardon me for saying so, sir, but this has your fingerprints all over it. What exactly did you do?”
“Scion’s contract is to provide integrated surveillance, intelligence gathering, reconnaissance, and data communications relay support services on the Iraq-Turkey border,” Patrick said. “Our primary platform for this function is the XC-57 multipurpose airlift aircraft, which is a turbofan-powered manned or unmanned aircraft that can be fitted with a variety of mission modules to change its function. We also employ smaller unmanned aircraft that—”
“Get to the bottom line, General,” Barbeau snapped. “Did you or did you not cross the Iraq-Turkey border?”
“No, ma’am, we did not—at least, not with any of our
“What in hell does
“The Turks fired at a false target we inserted into their Patriot acquisition and tracking computers via their phased-array radar,” he said.
“I knew it! You
“Part of our contracted reconnaissance mission is to analyze and categorize all threats in this area of responsibility,” Patrick explained. “After the attack on Second Regiment in Zakhu, I consider the Turkish army and border guards a threat.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you, General, that Turkey is an important ally, in NATO and the entire region—
“Madam Secretary, the Turks moved their Patriot batteries farther west, opposing Iraq instead of just Iran,” Patrick said. “Did the Turks advise us of this?”
“I’m not here to answer your questions, General. You’re here to answer
