other hand, Islamic architecture abounds in many areas, with pedestrian labyrinths of tight alleyways and court- yards. The mosques are spectacular, covered in intricate patterns of colored stones. Some neighborhoods of traditional housing still remain. Elaborate overhanging balconies—
I debark and present my special NSA papers identifying me as an Interpol police detective from Switzerland. I use my own name, but this cover story will go much further in Iraq than if I went around saying I’m an espionage agent with the NSA. As far as my business in Iraq is concerned, I am researching a report that Interpol will publish on the current state of terrorism in the Middle East. Once I’m cleared to enter the base, a sergeant leads me to an office in the bustling command center. The sergeant never says a word, but he eyes me curiously. I must look like one strange civilian to him, especially since I have NSA clearance. The sergeant leaves me in the hands of my contact, Lieutenant Colonel Dan Petlow, who greets me in a businesslike fashion. When we’re alone in his office, he tells me that he’s the only army officer in Iraq who’s aware of my mission. It turns out that he knows Colonel Lambert and has been in on the doings of Third Echelon for a long time.
“I was Rick Benton’s contact as well,” Petlow says before I can ask.
Petlow is about my age. I ask him how long he’s been in the country, and he replies that he’s lost track of the time.
“Not really, I’m just being facetious,” he says. “I’ve been here sixteen months now. This country tends to sour you.”
He offers me a soft drink and I take it. We sit under an electric fan because the AC in the building is being repaired. It feels like Phoenix, Arizona, outside, and it’s an oven in the office.
“Tell me about Benton,” I begin.
“He seemed capable but a bit reckless,” Petlow says. “I met with him face-to-face only twice. Didn’t know him well at all. He knew his stuff, though. He was an expert on all things Middle East.”
“What do you know about his recent investigation?”
“The arms dealing? Not much. Benton kept that stuff close to his chest. He kept saying he was working on uncovering a Shop pipeline coming from the north into Iraq. He said the arms have been pouring into Mosul. That means they’re coming from Iran and then through Rawanduz to get to Mosul, or they’re coming from Turkey through the town of Amadiyah. Both of those villages are in KDP-controlled territory.”
Mosul is perhaps the biggest city in northern Iraq. It’s just out of the region controlled by the officially sanctioned Kurdistan Regional Government and the site of a lot of unrest, mainly between different Kurdish factions. Rawanduz is a village between Mosul and the Iranian border. Likewise, Amadiyah is a village north of Mosul, near the Turkish border. Two Kurdish political parties influence everything that happens in northern Iraq. In 1946 a recognized Kurdish hero named Mulla Mustafa Barzani formed the oldest one, the Kurdistan Democratic Party — the KDP — which has cultural ties to Iran. The second party, the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan — the PUK — formed in 1976 as a rival to the KDP. There are other, smaller Kurdish parties, but the KDP and PUK are the big daddies. In theory they share governmental responsibilities of Kurdish Iraq, but the KDP seems to have more power. In recent years the two parties have grudgingly cooperated with each other on many issues such as in the education and health sectors. But don’t expect one to invite the other to a dinner party.
“What do you think?” I ask Petlow.
“I doubt the Turkish route theory. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. For one thing, Turkey is supposedly one of our allies and they’re just as concerned about illegal arms traffic as we are. Another thing is that the route would be more difficult. Benton always thought that the arms originated in one of the former Soviet satellites. Maybe Azerbaijan. In order to get to Iraq from there, they’d have to go through Armenia and then Turkey. It’s a straighter shoot out of Azerbaijan through Iran and into Iraq.”
“So you’re saying that I should look into the Rawanduz connection first?” I ask.
Petlow shrugs. “It’s just an opinion. Doesn’t mean I’m right.”
I mull this over and say, “Southeast Turkey is a Kurdish region, too. There could be some cooperation going on between the tribes. There’s also a lot of terrorist activity in that part of Turkey.”
“That’s true, too. Look, I’ll be honest with you, Fisher. You don’t have a lot to go on. What are you going to do when you get up there? Knock on doors? Benton didn’t leave you anything to give you some direction, did he?”
“No, I’ll just have to play it by ear at first. I figure I have to start in Mosul. I imagine I’ll begin by investigating the sites in the city where illegal arms have been discovered. The goal is to find a lead pointing me in the right direction.”
“Well, good luck.” Petlow stands and picks up a duffel bag. “This came in the official pouch from Washington,” he says, handing it to me. “It’s for you.”
The only weapon I carried on the plane is my genuine Marine Corps combat knife. It’s got a 7-inch carbon steel blade with a blood groove and a 5-inch leather handle. I remove it from its sheath and cut the rope binding the end of the duffel bag. My SC-20K and Osprey are inside, along with boxes of various types of ammunition.
“I can use this stuff,” I mutter.
Petlow then opens his desk and hands me a set of keys. “There’s an unmarked Toyota Land Cruiser in the compound outside. It’s yours to do with what you will. We don’t need it back. We’ve checked it out and it runs fine. Believe it or not, imported vehicles do very well in Iraq. I know a car dealer in Baghdad who’s gotten rich since the war began.”
“How’s security on the roads? What kinds of checkpoints can I expect?”
“You can expect checkpoints everywhere and some of them will delay you considerably. But if you dress appropriately, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with the locals. You have such a swarthy complexion that you look like you might be Arabic. Do you speak Arabic?”
“Yeah.” In fact, I speak seven languages. It’s English I’m not so great at. I take the keys. “Thanks.”
“Have you eaten? Would you like—”
Before Petlow can finish his invitation, a huge crack of thunder rocks the building. We look at each other and both immediately know that it wasn’t thunder.
“Damn,” Petlow mutters. “That was a big one.” He shoots toward the door and runs outside. I follow him and join the throng of soldiers rushing from the building.
The air is dark and full of smoke. Sirens blare as emergency personnel appear on the scene. Men are shouting orders all over the place, and for a few minutes it’s a mass of confusion. Eventually, though, the smoke begins to clear and I can see flames over by the fortified fence that separates the base from the outside world. A section of the fence is completely gone and in its place is a hulk of black, burning metal.
I stand out of the way and watch the professionals deal with it. These soldiers are obviously used to this kind of thing happening all the time. Fifteen minutes later Colonel Petlow sees me and takes me aside.
“It was a laundry van,” he says. “Suicide driver, of course. The eyewitnesses say he drove straight for the checkpoint gate at full speed. One of the sentries fired at him to try and stop the thing, but it was too late. Damn explosives took out two of our men and a big chunk of fence. What a waste. What the hell do they think they’re accomplishing? This is the third one in two weeks.”
I commiserate and say that at least no one else was hurt.
“You know, these guys are getting their explosives from terrorist supply lines,” Petlow continues. “There’s no doubt about it. They couldn’t have stockpiled it for all this time. Go plug up that pipeline, Fisher. I’m here if you need anything, so don’t hesitate to call. You’ve got my number?”
I give him a bleak smile. We shake hands and then he rushes back toward the mess of burning debris.
8
Sarah Burns was having a wonderful time in Jerusalem. On the third night of her stay, she and Rivka decided to break the double-date routine and go off separately with their beaus. Rivka and Noel went to the movies. Sarah
