Packer knew what the President was referring to. He had first seen the now-infamous fax some two hours earlier when Miller called him to warn him it was coming. Even as he was getting ready to respond, Kearsey McWhorter, the President’s secretary, appeared and began circling the table distributing copies. Packer suspected everyone in the room had already had a chance to see it in the previous meeting, but he waited anyway. He knew there was no way to defuse what he had to say.
“We learned of Bogner’s confession less than two hours ago ourselves,” he admitted.
Colchin’s face was drawn and he looked frustrated.
He read the document aloud and finished by slamming the piece of paper down on the table.
“What in the name of everything that’s holy would possess Bogner to sign a damn confession like this in the first place?” he thundered.
“Surely he had to realize that the minute he signed it he was playing right into Fahid’s hands and forfeiting any chance we had of negotiating his release. What the hell was he thinking?”
Packer shook his head.
“This isn’t like T. C. You know him as well as anyone in the room, Mr. President.
All we can do at this point is hazard a guess; either his back was up against a wall, Fahid had a gun to his head, or he was trying to buy some time — your guess is as good as mine.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Colchin fumed, “a goddamned confession!” He slammed his fist down on the table again, this time just as Kearsy McWhorter slipped back into the room and discreetly handed him another piece of paper. Colchin read it and passed it to the Vice President. The expression on both men’s face softened and Colchin leaned forward; he was looking at Spitz and Hurley.
“We’ve just received confirmation of that earlier report from our embassy in Amman, gentlemen. They say they are continuing to monitor reports being broadcast by NIMF Radio in Ammash that claim, and I’m quoting, “The American mercenary who has confessed to assassinating General Salih Baddour managed to escape when he killed an unarmed NIMF guard. NIMF Radio is claiming that the new head of NIMF, General Fahid, has given orders to shoot the American on sight.”
“It sure as hell didn’t take Fahid long to promote himself,” Spitz drawled, “and how many of you want to take bets on that guard being unarmed?”
Colchin held up his hand.
“All right, we can sit here all night and fret or we can do something about it. I’ll start with you, Lattimere. What’s your best guess? Can we put any stock at all in these NIMF radio broadcasts?”
Spitz hedged and looked at Langley.
“You know as much about what’s going on in that part of the world as anyone, Peter. What do you think?”
“It smacks of a setup,” Langley said.
“And what about you, General Mayfield?” Spitz asked.
“I’ll have to defer to someone else, Lattimere. I knew Salih Baddour just as I know most of the key figures in the presidential palace in Baghdad, but I don’t know this guy Fahid.”
“What about you, Pack?” Colchin pushed.
“What does ISA have on this guy?”
Packer shook his head. Miller’s briefing had been sketchy at best.
“Not much, Mr. President.
Up until now Fahid has been pretty much of a shadow even though he was Baddour’s chief of staff up until the assassination. We know he is a Baddour loyalist, mid-fifties, and a longtime officer in the Republican Guard until the rift developed between Hussein and Baddour. There are also some indications he has leanings toward the Communist Party. He’s made several trips to Moscow in recent years. But based on everything we know, up until now he’s been pretty much of a nonentity.”
Colchin turned back to Spitz.
“All right, Lattimere, you’re the one with the Machiavellian mind around here. Let me ask the question another way. Is there any reason to believe Bogner did get away?”
“It depends on how you define jaway,” Mr. President,” Spitz replied.
“Is NIMF Radio saying he somehow got out of his cell and escaped, or are they saying he somehow managed to get out of Ammash? There’s a helluva difference. The way I see it, if this guy Fahid is any kind of strategist at all, he has to realize he’s playing hardball with the same people who buried him and the Republican Guard ten years ago. He has to be aware that if he puts Bogner on trial for Salih Baddour’s assassination without some kind of international presence at the trial, the whole process is going to look more than a little bogus.”
“Keep going,” Colchin said.
Spitz closed his eyes.
“Let’s look at a hypothetical scenario, Mr. President. Suppose there are four men in a room, you, the Vice President, General Mayfield, and me. All of a sudden you’re dead, Mr. President, and so is General Mayfield — both of you shot by someone in that room.
“Now, when you think about it, you realize the Vice President and I are the only ones in the room who are still alive and able to tell what really happened.
So let’s play this little drama out to its logical conclusion. We’ve got two dead people in the room and two that are very much alive. Suppose then that the Vice President accuses me of assassinating the President — then what?”
Mayfield shifted in his chair.
“What you’re saying is, there’s no one to dispute the Vice President’s word. Right?”
“Exactly,” Spitz agreed.
“Ask yourself who has the most to gain in this scenario. In the scenario I just described it would have been the Vice President; over there it would have been Fahid. With Baddour dead, we now learn Fahid, as chief of staff and the former number-two man in the Ammash hierarchy, has just taken command of the seventy-thousand-man Northern Iraqi Military Force.”
“Interesting thesis,” Mayfield assessed.
“But what exactly does Fahid have to gain from Bogner’s escape?”
“When you really think about it, Harlan, he has everything to gain and damn little to lose,” Spitz said.
“If one of his soldiers just happens to shoot an escaped prisoner, a trial is avoided, and Fahid doesn’t have to answer any embarrassing questions from outsiders.”
Mayfield loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar.
“What you’re saying is, if Baddour loyalists discovered one of his own officers shot him, Fahid could have an uprising on his hands.”
“Exactly,” Spitz said, “and what better way to make certain that doesn’t happen then to make sure the alleged assassin is killed before he’s able to be interrogated by outsiders?”
The Vice President had been waiting for his turn.
“Tell me, Mr. Clancy,” Blanchard said.
“I gather you and several others in this room regard this man Bogner as a resourceful individual. I would think his chances of survival would be minimal if he is, in fact, trapped inside the NIMF facility as he is reported to be. If that’s the case, how long do you think he can avoid being caught or killed?”
“Longer than most,” Packer muttered.
“The man is clever.”
“That’s an understatement,” Spitz said with a smile.
“I’ve worked with Agent Bogner before. He seems to thrive on getting himself into and out of sticky situations. This time, however, it appears he may be in over his head.”
As Colchin listened, it was obvious he was becoming more impatient.
“Let’s assume the radio reports being picked up by our embassy in Amman are true and Bogner is both still alive and still inside the compound; what would it take for us to go in there and get him?”
The President’s question caught most of the people in the room off guard. Colchin was not known as a risk-taker.