Rogue Forces

“We’ve spoken about the possibility many times, sir,” National Security Adviser Carlyle said. “One mechanized infantry brigade in Baghdad on a twelve-month rotation; one training regiment on a six-month rotation; and we conduct frequent joint training exercises with units deployed from the States for no more than a month or two throughout the country. Day-to-day security and surveillance provided by private contractors, with infrequent special ops missions around the region as needed.”

“Sounds good to me,” the president said. “One soldier dies and it’s front-page news, but it takes at least six contractors to die before anyone notices. Let’s work up the details and get a plan drawn up pronto.” To his other advisers, he said, “Okay, I want an update on the Iraq attack at the seven a.m. staff briefing. Thank you, everyone.” Just as the group was departing the Oval Office, the president asked, “Secretary Barbeau, a word with you in the study?”

After the door was closed, the president fixed the former senator from Louisiana a bourbon and water. They toasted each other, then she lightly kissed him on the lips, being careful not to get too much lipstick on him—after all, the first lady was upstairs in the residence. “Thanks for recommending Phoenix, Stacy,” Gardner said. “Good choice—it’ll get him out of here for a change. He’s always underfoot.”

“I agree—he’s much too curious sometimes,” Barbeau said. She curled her lower lip in a pout. “But I wish you had consulted me first. I can think of a dozen better-qualified persons from our party that could’ve headed the team.”

“Walter briefed me that there were rumblings in Washington about keeping Phoenix too deep in the background and squashing his political future,” Gardner said.

“Well, that’s what typically happens to vice presidents.”

“I know, but I need to keep him on the ticket when I run for the second term, and I don’t want pissed-off party bosses encouraging him to leave so he can run himself,” Gardner said, fixing himself another coffee mug of Puerto Rican rum on ice. “This is a good high-profile assignment that’ll please his supporters, but it’s out of the country with not a lot of media around; it’ll show I’m serious about investigating the incident, but nothing will come of it, so if anyone gets hurt, it’ll be him; but more importantly, it’s a subject that will fade from public attention quickly because it involves dead American soldiers. Send your experts’ names to Phoenix and let’s see if he takes any of them.”

“Perhaps,” Barbeau said, her eyes glittering with intrigue, “the vice president will forget to duck or put on his 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?”