“But I’m also an adult, Dad.”
“You’re not drinking age yet,” I counter.
“Oh, gee, like I have seven more months to wait,” she says sarcastically.
I almost point out that that is nearly a year, but I let it go. I don’t want the call to turn into one of our teenager vs. parent battles. Sarah and I went through some real knockdown drag-outs when she was in high school.
“All I’m saying is that you should find out a little more about him and his family before you get more involved, that’s all,” I say. I know it sounds lame.
“Dad, please. We dated for three months last year, but I guess you don’t remember that. I know him pretty well already.”
“All right, all right, I’ll stop being a dad. Do you have plenty of money?”
“Sure, Dad. Thanks.”
“And you remember the phone number in case you need to reach me?”
“I’ve got it memorized,” she answers. This is a special toll-free number that she can call from anywhere in the world whenever I’m on assignment. It actually goes to Third Echelon and is then transmitted as a text message to my OPSAT, wherever I happen to be. No one but Sarah and I know the number. I instructed her long ago on how to use it, but only if it’s an emergency situation. Anything trivial can wait until my return to Maryland.
“So, when do you fly back to Chicago?” I ask.
“Next Saturday. Just when I’m about to get over the jet lag I have to turn around and go back,” she says.
“Yeah, that’s the way it usually is.”
“Look, Dad, I gotta go now. It’s great to talk to you.”
“Sarah, honey, you be careful, okay?”
“I will. You, too, with whatever it is you do.” There’s that touch of sarcasm again. She doesn’t like that she knows nothing about my work and has said so on several occasions.
“Okay. Have fun. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
She hangs up.
I begin to wonder if my uneasiness about her boyfriend is simply the normal reaction a father might have to his twenty-year-old daughter becoming intimate with an older boy, or is it something else? I probably shouldn’t worry. Eli Horowitz lives with his parents. They’re probably wealthy, too, in order to afford to send him to America to study. I wonder what really happened with his student visa? I might have to make an inquiry about it.
There’s not a lot I can do about it now, I decide. I need to focus on the assignment at hand and study the documents that Lambert gave me this afternoon. They will reveal who my contact in Iraq will be and where I can pick up transportation, my SC-20K, the Osprey, and other equipment I may need. I imagine it’ll be through the army. Someone at the top of the food chain there will have been briefed.
As I finish preparing for the trip, I glance at the photo of my daughter on the bedroom nightstand. I feel a sudden urge to hug her and give her a kiss. Instead, I lightly touch my lips to my index finger and then touch the portrait.
That’ll have to do for now.
7
Mesopotamia. That’s what Iraq once was. The name “Iraq” didn’t emerge until sometime in the seventh century. Mesopotamia was the location of Babylon and its legendary hanging gardens, regarded as the seventh wonder of the ancient world. The mythical Tower of Babel once stood in the land, and the area around Qurnah might have been the site of the biblical Garden of Eden. In the middle of the first century A.D., Islam swarmed over the region and Mesopotamia became the cultural center of the Arabic universe. Many believe that writing began in the region. The tales of the thousand and one nights originated in Iraq. Magnificent mosques and palaces dominated the cities, built by powerful rulers who insisted on displaying the country’s riches in tangible forms. Arabian Nights, magic carpets, sultans of swing…
It all sounds quite exotic and beautiful, doesn’t it? It’s too bad that our image of Iraq today isn’t what it used to be. Now we think of Iraq as a very dangerous, unstable country — war torn, shadowy, and unfriendly. I’m not going to speculate on whether we were right or wrong to invade Iraq in 2003. There’s no question that Saddam Hussein was bad news. His regime was cruel and merciless. But are the Iraqi people better off now? Who the fuck knows?
Today it’s difficult to believe that the Middle East, and in particular Iraq, was once the “cradle of civilization.” At least, that’s what the historians claim. It’s my business to know a lot about the Middle East, and I’ve extensively studied Iraq and the other countries in the region. That doesn’t mean I fully understand any of them. The Middle East is truly a very different world from our existence in the United States, and the sad thing is that many Americans and the U.S. government refuse to acknowledge that the Middle East will never be like the West. But it’s not my job to preach politics. I keep abreast of politics, but I try not to get too involved in them. I just do my job.
So many catastrophic events resculpted the world in the twentieth century. Prior to World War I, Iraq was part of the Ottoman Empire governed from Istanbul. The British mandate controlled the region after the war, and in 1932 the country was formally admitted to the League of Nations as an independent state — the first one in the Middle East. But the monarchy that had been installed by the British was overthrown in 1958 by nationalist Free Officers. In 1963 the Baathists took power, were overthrown, and succeeded in gaining control again in 1968. Until we toppled the Baath government in 2003, that’s the way things stood in Iraq. During those thirty-five years, Iraq engaged in a war with Iran, a war with Kuwait, a war with the United Nations forces led by the USA, and a war with its own people in the northern, Kurd-populated region.
Ah, the twentieth century. Such a happy time.
These were the thoughts that swam through my head as the U.S. Army transport touched down at the Third Army base outside of Baghdad. The plane stopped once in Germany. My ability to sleep anywhere at any time helped make the trip flash by in an instant. I was awake long enough to get off the aircraft in Germany, stretch my legs, and have a bite to eat. I slept through the second leg and woke up when the plane landed.
In between naps I thoroughly briefed myself on the current situation in Iraq. Even though an Iraqi government is in place, the U.S. still maintains a strong presence. The locals simply don’t have it together to adequately police the country. The United Nations is committed to helping the country get on its feet again, but guess who’s bearing the brunt of the work? The good ol’ US of A, of course. And no one over here appreciates it. We deliver them from the evils of Hussein, and then they proceed to stab us in the back. Go figure.
Terrorist attacks continue to plague the country. You never know when a suicide bomber is going to drive his truck into yours. Every government officer and politician is a target because they’re seen as puppets of the corrupt Satan — America, that is. These terrorists are anywhere and everywhere. Iraq is a big country. There are tons of hiding places. Look how long it took to find Hussein. He was caught hiding in a hole in the ground. There are a few million holes in the ground in Iraq.
The attacks are blamed on the usual nebulous “insurgents” and anti-American rebels. The name al Qaeda is still bandied about as being one of the primary instigators of unrest, along with other smaller terrorist factions that seem to pop up every day. Lately, though, it’s the Shadows that provoke the most fear. Like al Qaeda, they don’t mind patting themselves on the back in public after a particularly nasty attack. They’re more publicity-minded than al Qaeda ever was. They send audiotapes, videotapes, letters, faxes, and e-mails to the various news organizations… signing them “the Shadows.” Of course, many of these missives could be pranks and copycat attempts, but our people take each and every one seriously. It’s what we must do.