“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 aircraft.”
“What in hell does that mean?”
“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 did provoke the Turks into launching their missiles!”
“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—they are not the enemy,” Barbeau said hotly. It was clear to everyone whom she believed the enemy really was. “Allies don’t spoof each other’s radars, cause them to waste two million dollars’ worth of missiles on chasing ghosts, or incite fear and mistrust in an area that is already undergoing a critical level of fear. I’m not going to let you disrupt our diplomatic efforts just so you can test out some new gadget or make your investors a little money.”
“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 mine…!”
“Madam Secretary, we also know that the Turks have long-range artillery systems similar to the ones they used to attack Second Regiment in Zakhu,” Patrick went on. “I want to see what the Turks are planning. The shake-up in their military high command, and now the loss of communications from the embassy, tell me that something is going on, possibly something serious. I recommend we—”
“Pardon me, General, but I am also not here to take your recommendations,” Secretary of State Barbeau interjected. “You’re a contractor, not a member of the cabinet or the staff. Now you listen to me, Generaclass="underline" I want all of your tracking data, radar pictures, and whatever other stuff you’ve gathered since your company signed the contract. I want—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t give it to you,” Patrick said.
“What did you say to me?”
“I said, Madam Secretary, that I can’t turn any of it over to you,” Patrick repeated. “The data belongs to U.S. Central Command—you’ll have to ask them for it.”
“Don’t play games with me, McLanahan. I’m going to have to explain what you did to Ankara. It looks like it’ll be another case of contractors overstepping their boundaries and operating too independently. Any costs incurred by the Turks for your actions will come out of your pocket, not the U.S. Treasury’s.”
“That’ll be for a court to decide,” Patrick said. “In the meantime, the information we collect belongs to Central Command, or whoever they designate to receive it, such as Second Regiment. Only they can decide who gets it. Any other information or resources not covered by the contract with the government belong to Scion Aviation International, and I can’t release it to anyone without a contract or a court order.”
“You want to play hardball with me, mister, fine,” Barbeau snapped. “I’ll slap a lawsuit on you and your company so fast it’ll make your head spin. In the meantime, I’m going to recommend to Secretary Turner to cancel your contract so we can prove to the Turkish government that this won’t happen again.” Patrick said nothing. “Colonel Wilhelm, I’m going to recommend to the Pentagon that you resume security operations along the border area until we can get another contractor in to take over. Await further orders to that effect.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Barbeau made a swiping motion across her camera with the back of a hand, and her image disappeared. “Thanks, General,” Wilhelm said angrily. “I’m flat-footed here. It’ll take me weeks to get replacements sent in, equipment returned and unpacked, and patrols set up again.”
“We don’t have weeks, Colonel, we have days,” Patrick said. “Mr. Vice President, I’m sorry about the diplomatic row I’ve caused, but we learned a great deal. Turkey is gearing up for something. We have to be ready for it.”
“Like what? Your Iraq invasion theory?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s happened to make you think this invasion in imminent?”
“Plenty has happened, sir,” Patrick responded. “Scion’s own analysis shows that the Turks now have twenty-five thousand Jandarma paramilitary troops within three days’ march of Mosul and Irbil, and another three divisions—one hundred thousand regular infantry, armor, and artillery troops—within a week’s march.”
“Three divisions?”
“Yes, sir—that’s nearly as many troops as the United States had in Iraq at the height of Operation Iraqi Freedom, except the Turks are concentrated in the north,” Patrick said. “Those ground forces are backed up by the largest and most advanced air force between Russia and Germany. Scion believes they’re poised to strike. The recent resignation of Turkey’s military leadership, and this very recent confusion and loss of contact with the embassy in Ankara, confirm my fears.”
There was a long pause on the line; Patrick saw the vice president lean back in his seat and rub his face and eyes—in confusion, fear, doubt, disbelief, or all four, he couldn’t tell. Then: “General, I didn’t know you that well when you worked in the White House,” Phoenix said. “Most of what I know is what I heard in the Oval Office and Cabinet Room, usually during someone’s angry tirade aimed at you. You have a reputation for two things: pissing a lot of people off…and making timely, correct analyses.
“I’m going to talk to the president and recommend that Secretary Barbeau and I make a visit to Turkey, to meet with President Hirsiz and Prime Minister Akas,” he went on. “Stacy can be in charge of making apologies. I’m going to ask President Hirsiz what’s going on, what he thinks his situation is politically and security-wise, and what the United States can do to help. The situation is obviously getting out of hand, and simply declaring the PKK a terrorist outfit is not enough. We should be doing more to help the Republic of Turkey.
“I am also going to recommend, General, that you be allowed to continue your surveillance operations on the Iraq-Turkey border,” Phoenix went on. “I don’t think he’ll buy it, but if Colonel Wilhelm says it’ll take weeks to get back into position, we don’t have much choice. Obviously, there will be no more of that netrusion stuff against the Turks without express permission from the Pentagon or the White House. Clear?”