Rogue Forces

“He might think that you not attending the briefing is a breach of protocol, Colonel. He is here to help Iraq and the Iraqi army, after all.”

“Is that so, General?” Jaffar asked, a razor-sharp edge to his voice. “He comes unbidden to our country and expects me to attend a briefing that our president has not yet heard?” He made a show of thinking about his point, then nodded. “Please make my apologies to the vice president.”

“Of course. I can brief you later if you’d prefer.”

“That would be acceptable, General,” Jaffar said. “Sir, may I have permission to inspect your reconnaissance aircraft at your earliest convenience?”

Patrick was a little surprised: Jaffar hadn’t shown any interest in their activities whatsoever in the short time he’d been there. “There are some systems and devices that are classified and I can’t—”

“I understand, sir. I believe you call it NOFORN—no foreign nationals. I understand completely.”

“Then I’d be happy to show it to you,” Patrick said. “I can brief you on tonight’s reconnaissance run, show you the aircraft before the preflight inspections, and go over the unclassified data as we receive it to show you our capabilities. I’ll have to get Colonel Wilhelm’s and my company’s permission, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Nineteen hundred hours, in your office?”

“That is acceptable, General McLanahan,” Jaffar said. Patrick nodded and extended a hand, but Jaffar snapped to attention, saluted, spun on a heel, and walked quickly away to his waiting car, followed by his aide. Patrick shook his head, confused, then jumped into a waiting Humvee, which took him to the Command and Control Center.

Wilhelm was waiting for him in the conference room overlooking the Tank. Mark Weatherly was introducing the vice president to some of the staff members and explaining the layout of the Triple-C and the Tank. “Where’s Jaffar?” Wilhelm asked in a low voice.

“He’s not coming to the briefing. Said it would insult his commanders if he spoke with the vice president first.”

“Damn hajjis—this was supposed to be for his benefit,” Wilhelm said. “Why the hell didn’t he tell me himself?” Patrick didn’t answer. “What were you two talking about?”

“He wants to tour the Loser, get a briefing on our capabilities, and watch the next recon mission.”

“Since when is he interested in any of that stuff?” Wilhelm growled. “Today, of all days, just after us getting our asses chewed up and with Washington crawling up and down our backs.”

“I told him I needed your permission first.”

Wilhelm was about to say no, but he just shook his head and muttered something under his breath. “He’s entitled to be in the Tank for all operations—we keep the commander’s seat open for him, for God’s sake, even though he’s never been in it—so I guess I don’t have any choice. But he doesn’t get to see the NOFORN stuff.”

“I told him the same thing, and he understands. He even knew that term.”

“Probably saw it in a movie and likes to parrot it every chance he gets. I’ll bet it sticks in his craw.” Wilhelm shook his head again, as if erasing the entire conversation from his head. “Are you still going to tell the vice president your theory?”

“Yes.”

“Only you can add two and two and come up with five. It’s your funeral. Okay, let’s get this over with.” Wilhelm nodded to Weatherly, who cut his talk short and motioned the vice president to a waiting seat.

Wilhelm stood uncomfortably at the dais as everyone settled in. “Mr. Vice President, distinguished visitors, thank you for this visit,” he began. “Your presence so quickly after the tragedy last night sends a clear and important signal to not just the regiment but to all of the players in this conflict. My staff and I stand ready to assist you in your investigation.

“I know there are a lot of VIPs—the Iraqi prime minister, the ambassador, the commander of coalition forces in Iraq—waiting to greet you who will be very angry to learn that you came here instead of going to base headquarters to meet them,” Wilhelm went on, “but General McLanahan and I thought you needed to hear from us first. Unfortunately, the base commander, Colonel Jaffar, will not be here.”

“Did he say why not, Colonel?” the vice president asked.

“He told me it would be a breach of protocol to talk with you before his superior officers did, sir,” Patrick replied. “He sends his regrets.”

“It was his men that were killed and his homeland that was attacked. Who cares who hears from us first?”

“Would you like me to get him back here, sir?”

“No, let’s press on,” Phoenix said. “I’m not really concerned about stepping on toes right now, except for the ones responsible for killing our soldiers, and then I’ll make sure that bastard is taken down.