“Now, Habib is that everybody?” he asked while throwing the burner phone on the floor by the dead doctor’s hand.
Earning a reply in the affirmative Buryak ordered they refuel the personnel carrier.
Once completed, they drove out as though nothing had happened to leave the eighty UN staff members dead around them and only eight survivors cowering in the corner of one of the offices.
“Twenty-five minutes, not bad,” Leo thought looking at his watch.
46
Borama
They arrived at the gates of the National Television Centre. When the militia guards saw who it was they immediately lifted the barriers to give a rag-tag salute towards the occupant.
Although they had heard gunfire erupting in the distance, they made no attempt to stop the cars as they all belonged to the Interior Ministry.
Earlier when he was speaking to the German doctor at the UN compound he had promised immediate assistance for, Wasir had done so purely for the benefit of the American listening posts that he believed would be listening. This was to be the next act of his theatrics.
Telling the producer he was taking over the station for an important announcement, the young man did not protest on fear that he would be shot if he did.
“You must get your messaging right, announce the President’s resignation and a constitutional transfer of power as a ‘run-of-the-mill’ regular occurrence, so to speak,” Gourgamangi had said to him.
As the camera light changed green, the former pirate began his official coup d’etat.
“In pursuance of the primary objective of saving our great country from total collapse, I, Interior Minister Wasir Osman Hassan of the Republic of Adwalland have, after due consultation amongst the services of the Lower house…” he started.
Ten minutes later having reaching the end of his speech during which he cited the President’s Militia as being responsible for the attack on the UN Mission and several examples to justify his action, he dropped his bombshell.
“I am asking the Americans of Camp Lemmioner under United Nations resolution S/RES/2200 (2013) to provide support to the Government of Adwalland in the security of United Nations personnel!”
47
Langley
The satellite currently placed above Borama was relaying the battle below it in real time while the Northrop Grumman E-2 Hawkeye was all relaying the radio traffic in the same manner to the situation room at Langley.
“Fuck! FUCK!” Ali had shouted at the screen as Wasir finished his speech. “Is Wasir fucking mad!” he said knowing despite saying otherwise he must have ordered the attack on the mission to get American troops into the country from nearby Djibouti.
“Attacking a FUCKING UN compound!” he said shaking his head again in horror.
Immediately Ali tried to contact Clara on the ground to confirm the report only to be told they couldn’t raise her.
“What do you mean you can’t fucking contact her!” he shouted at the analyst, fearing the worst. “We only just spoke to her!” he raged.
Half an hour passed. Still unable to reach them and seeing the world’s media were now picking up on Wasir’s request and contacting the White House for a comment, he was interrupted by assistant.
“I have the Director on the line,” she said impassively.
Knowing the most likely content of the conversation he immediately told the young officer to transfer him to the quiet room.
“WHAT THE FUCK! I just had the fucking Chief of Staff on the line followed by the National Security Advisor and then the fucking Secretary of State asking me who behind the attack on the United Nations base,” said Young angrily. “PLEASE DON’T FUCKING TELL ME IT’S OUR GUY!” he shouted down the phone fearing the worst.
“The situation pretty unclear. We can see the Minister is trying to establish control as we speak,” Ali offered, knowing their conversations were recorded, his own cool returning to the fore. “With regard to the Mission, I think Wasir is saying that Jawari’s Clan feared it was under attack and may have attacked the United Nations compound as a kneejerk response,” he continued despite thinking otherwise for the benefit of the recordings.
“But we are facing another problem,” he then added.
“What’s that?” asked the Director.
Ali braced himself.
“We believe our Alpha team is down,” he said coolly.
“Am I FUCKING hearing you correct, Mansoor!” Young exploded. “You’re telling me we have lost our assets on the ground?” asked Young simultaneously trying to work out how he was going to spin it up the line.
If the Russian backed President of Adwalland militia did indeed make the biggest blunder of all time and attack a United Nation mission he could work with that, losing a SAD team though had just seriously complicated matters for him.
“Okay, get back to me with an update as soon as you can. In the meantime I will brief the President accordingly,” answered the Director clicking off the phone still unsure how he was going to tell him about the loss of their officers in the city.
In Ali’s case, he walked back into the situation room.
“Get me Navjot!” ordered Ali, stress now showing in his face.
Seconds later the Indian was on the secure line.
“Navjot, please don’t fucking tell me that mess in Lughaya is our making?” he asked almost knowing the answer.
Knowing their calls although encrypted to protect against outside ears would still be recorded and reviewed later by Langley and not wanting to be a scapegoat, the Indian answered.
“No,” he said, lying for the benefit of a future mission review committee having seen on his television Wasir’s address in the privacy of his hotel room at the time had caused him to let out of his mouth a series of swear words in Punjabi and English.
Ali then asked him a question he already knew the answer to.
“I can’t get hold of the Alpha team. Can you confirm that they are still in play?” he then asked again for the benefit of the oversight committees to come after.
“Alpha team is down,” Navjot replied with a heavy heart having tried to raise them when Wasir had first appeared on the screen.
Both knew the next steps.
“Execute Burn,” ordered Ali. He couldn’t afford to lose one of his top operatives.
“Understood,” replied Navjot.
Finished, Ali walked back into the conference room sat down, took a moment then murmured a small prayer to himself in Urdu.
48
Washington, D.C. / Moscow
The clock showed 11:30pm (EST) as the forty-fourth President of the United States of America sat down in the situation room at the front of the conference table.
He had a grim look on his face. Here he was dealing with yet another fast moving situation that had seemed to him to become a habit during his Presidency.
An hour ago the Secretary of State who was still on his way to the White House had advised him that he had received a formal request from the Secretary-General of the United Nations asking him to provide support under the resolution S/RES/2200 (2013) to the mission in Adwalland as the civilian government couldn’t do so.
If that wasn’t bad enough, events had been made even more complicated by the fact this application was being made during an attempted regime change, covertly backed by the Agency, taking place in the country at the same time.
The icing on the cake of this grim picture was then completed when the Director of the CIA informed him that they believed they had lost three of their agents who were monitoring it.
“Director, do we know who took them?” the President asked, trying to keep his anger in check as he sat in his office earlier.