President Merrick leaned forward. “Walt, this is our war. We have to fight it here in the States. The Kurds have overreacted and if we’re going to stop them, it’d better be soon. Public outcry has become so loud that our airwaves are flooded with nothing but impeachment and withdrawal discussions. And we all know what happens if we back down from the KSF and withdraw our troops from Turkey. Every two-bit terrorist organization on the planet will be on the next flight to America, threatening to blow up our schools unless we serve free ice cream with every meal at McDonald’s. There will be no end to it.”
Jackson asked, “If the KSF has a substantial amount of soldiers here in the U.S., what’s happening over in Kurdistan?”
“That’s a good question,” Professor Bandor said, then pointed to CIA Director Ken Morris.
“As you would suspect,” Morris stated. “They’re vulnerable. However, our troops are instructed to prevent violence from both sides and it seems to have tempered the bloodshed.” He turned to Jackson, “Now if we could only find Kharrazi…”
The President looked at Jackson.
Jackson pushed his chair back and crossed his legs. He nodded, as if he was agreeing with something that someone had said. But nobody spoke.
Finally, Jackson said, “I could tell you that we have fresh leads and we’re only hours away from capture, but I’d be lying. The fact is, I have every warm body with a badge scouring the landscape for this guy, and so far, every lead has led to a dead end. I haven’t slept for more than a couple of hours a night in weeks, and if I thought it would help our situation, I’d hand in my resignation right now.”
The President held up his hand, “Hold on, Walt. There’ll be plenty of time for scapegoats after this is over. You’re taking this the wrong way.”
“No, he’s not,” Louis Dutton said, teeth clenched. “He’s taking it exactly the right way.” The FBI Director pointed at Morris. “You’re the one who kept all of this tucked safely in a Top Secret file. Only when one of my agent’s brothers was kidnapped did we even find out there’s been KSF movement out of Turkey. If anyone deserves to be the scapegoat, it’s you.”
The President slammed his fist on the hardwood table. “That’s enough!”
The room became still. Some thirty professional government employees sat in total silence as the President admonished them with his eyes.
Professor Bandor stood with his hand covering his face. It was only when President Merrick asked him to continue that the professor’s reticence became conspicuous.
“Professor?” Merrick said.
“You don’t deserve to be fighting like this,” Bandor mumbled.
Nick wondered what he’d missed. He looked at his partner and Matt simply shrugged.
Dutton stood and approached the old man. “Professor, we fight like this all the time. This is what our forefathers did when they were faced with matters of national concern. It may seem ugly, but it works.”
He helped the old man to a seat at the table. When Dutton returned to his seat, President Merrick stood. He walked away from the gathering to an oversized map of Turkey. With his arms folded he said, “Professor Bandor is upset because he feels a sense a responsibility with this entire KSF mess.”
Bandor nodded with his head down.
“Tell them,” President Merrick said.
Bandor pulled at a loose piece of cuticle from his left thumb. “I believe Kemel Kharrazi has killed my sister. I’ve suspected for some time, and now I am certain of it.”
He seemed reluctant to continue until the president said, “Go on, Malik.”
“My sister told me in confidence that Kharrazi was coming to America to exact revenge on the United States for interfering with their defense against the Turkish Security Force. This was months ago. I don’t know how, but I suspect Kharrazi found out about our conversation and killed her.”
“How can you be sure?” Dutton asked.
The professor continued his fascination with his cuticles. “She was allowed to leave a note saying goodbye to my brother-in-law and her other children.”
“Her other children?”
“Yes… you see, Kemel… well, he’s my nephew. And my sister is his mother.”
A collective gasp seemed to fill the room.
“Kharrazi killed his own mother?” Vice President Hearns asked. It became evident that he was the lone person in the room who didn’t know the Kharrazi legend and he immediately sank back in his chair.
The professor nodded. “You have no idea how sick I am about this. He is not what you think. He is much, much worse. His only loyalty is to the Kurdish people and their struggle for a separate nation of their own. Other than that, everyone and anyone is expendable. Even me.”
“Which brings us to the real reason the professor came to me with his dilemma,” President Merrick said. “He knows what a hothead Kharrazi is and he feels there’s a good chance we can use the professor as bait to lure Kharrazi out of hiding.”
“You can’t be serious?” Dutton said.
But the remainder of the room hoped he was. They were desperate for Kharrazi’s shoe size, never mind a trap that could actually help capture him.
“Tell us about it,” Jackson said.
President Merrick stood behind the professor and placed a hand on his shoulder. “In a few minutes I’ll leave the White House and address the media and the nation about the latest series of bombings. As I’m leaving the White House, I’ll be seen shaking the professor’s hand and thanking him. The camera set up insures that every television station with a news department will see us. Later, there will be a leak to the Washington Post about intelligence we’ve received from a Kurdish relative of Kharrazi’s. Our office will confirm the allegation and add that the information is extremely helpful in our pursuit of the madman known as Kemel Kharrazi. We will not name any names, but that will be a moot point. Kharrazi will know who we’re talking about.”
“Kemel is a news junkie,” Bandor added. “He monitors cable news stations all day long. He will come after me without question.”
Dutton rubbed the side of his face. “It’s risky. And there’s no guarantee that Kharrazi will make the attempt himself. He could send one of his soldiers to do the job.”
The President nodded. “Professor Bandor feels strongly that Kharrazi would be compelled to bring him down personally. There’s been bad blood between them for some time.”
“I can only apologize for not coming forward sooner,” Bandor said.
Nick said. “You realize if we keep close tabs on you, he’ll spot us. And if we leave even the slightest gap…”
“He’s right,” Dutton said. “Kharrazi will be disguised. An old woman, a homeless person, you’ll never be able to walk down the street without wondering who’s around you.”
There was no reaction from Bandor. Dutton lowered his head to meet the professor’s eyes. “What Nick is suggesting is…” Still no recognition of fear showed in Professor Bandor’s face. “It’s a suicide mission.”
President Merrick patted the professor’s back as he stared down at the old man.
“He knows, Louis. He knows.”
Chapter 15
Kemel Kharrazi exited the private jet and waddled across the tarmac toward a small brick building just south of the runway. His padding had come loose during the flight and was beginning to bunch up inside of his jacket. A suspicious eye might’ve noticed his unbalanced appearance, so he decided to adjust himself in the men’s room. But the second he opened the glass door to the building, an overzealous young woman standing behind an abbreviated counter accosted him.
“You must be Mr. Henning,” she said cheerfully.