Rogue Forces

“What in hell was that?” Phoenix cried. He and Jon Masters helped Cotter, who was flash-blinded, to the ground and poured water on his face.

“Smells like napalm, or thermobaric bombs,” Macomber said. He took Cotter’s binoculars, reset the optronic circuits so any more flashes wouldn’t blind him, too, and scanned the area. “Je…sus…”

“Who got hit, Wayne?” Patrick asked.

“Looks like Jaffar’s two forward battalions,” Whack said in a quiet voice. “God, that must be what hell looks like down there.” He scanned the area around the blast zone. “I don’t see our guys. I’ll try to get in contact with Wilhelm and—”

Just then there were two huge bright flashes, followed moments later by two massive explosions…this time, behind them, inside the base. The chest-crushing concussions threw everyone to the ground, and they crawled for any bit of safety they could find. Two massive fiery mushroom clouds rose into the sky. “Get under cover!” Patrick screamed over the hurricane-like chaos as clouds of smoke rolled over them. “Get under the Stryker!” The Secret Service agents pulled Phoenix into his Humvee, and everyone else crawled under the Stryker just as they were pelted by massive chunks of falling debris.

It took a long time for the deadly debris to stop falling, longer before anyone could breathe well enough through the choking clouds of dust and smoke, and longer still before anyone found the courage to get up and survey the area. There was a massive fire somewhere in the center of the base.

“That’s twice I’ve been too close to a bomb attack!” Jon Masters shouted. “Don’t tell me—Turkish bombers again, right?”

“That would be my guess,” Patrick said. “What got hit over there?”

One of the Stryker crewmembers got out of his vehicle, and when everyone else saw his eyes widen and his jaw drop, a chill of dread ran up their spines. “Holy shit,” he breathed, “I think they just nailed the Triple-C.”

THE PINK PALACE, ÇANCAYA, ANKARA, REPUBLIC OF TURKEY

A SHORT TIME LATER

“What do you mean, they retreated?” President Kurzat Hirsiz asked. “Why did they retreat? They outnumbered the Iraqis five to one!”

“I know that, Mr. President, I know,” Minister of Defense Hasan Cizek said. “But they weren’t just fighting Iraqis. The American army helped them.”

“God…so we were fighting Americans, too,” Hirsiz said. He shook his head. “It was bad enough we decided to draw the Iraqis into a fight; I never expected the Americans to respond, too.”

“As well as two of those American robots and one of those armored commandos…the Tin Man soldiers,” Cizek added. “They also had two cruise missiles that attacked with bomblets and antipersonnel mines.”

“What?” Hirsiz exploded. “How badly did we get hit?”

“Very badly, sir,” Cizek said. “Possibly twenty percent or more.”

“Twenty percent…in one battle?” a voice shouted. It was Prime Minister Ays¸e Akas. She had not been seen in public since the declaration of a state of emergency and the disbanding of the National Assembly, but had been meeting with lawmakers most of the time. “Mr. President, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I did not summon you here, Prime Minister,” Hirsiz said. “Besides, we did much worse to the Iraqis. What do you want? To turn in your resignation, I hope.”

“Kurzat, please, stop this insanity now before this turns into full-scale war with Iraq and the United States,” Akas pleaded. “End it. Declare victory and bring the troops home.”

“Not before the PKK is wiped out, Ays¸e,” Hirsiz said.

“Then what are you doing attacking Tall Kayf?” Akas asked. “There are few PKK in that area.”

“There is a situation at that air base that needed to be resolved,” Hirsiz said.

“I know about the American spy plane—you still allow me to watch television, although you’ve taken away my telephone and passport and keep me under twenty-four/seven guard,” Akas said. “But why would you waste Turkish lives for a hunk of burned metal?” She looked at Cizek. “Or are the generals in charge now?”

“I am still in charge here, Prime Minister, you can be assured of this,” Hirsiz said.

“So you gave the order to bomb Irbil?”

“What is it you want, Prime Minister?” Hirsiz asked irritably, finding a cigarette.

“I think you should allow me to meet with Vice President Phoenix, in Irbil or Baghdad.”

“I told you, no,” Hirsiz said. “In a state of emergency the president must decide all actions, and I don’t have time to meet with Phoenix or anyone else until the crisis is resolved. Besides, Phoenix is still at Nahla, and it’s far too dangerous for him to travel.”