by David Archer
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Noah said. “Like I said when I brought him in, the kid seems to be a natural.”
Chapter THREE
The team, loaded down with luggage and equipment, boarded a 747 at the Kirtland airfield on Saturday evening. The flight lasted almost 20 hours, and they arrived at the Tindouf airport at just after eight p.m. on Sunday. While they slept through a good part of the flight, each of them spent time studying the files they had been given. It was important for each of them to be able to recognize the targets, so that none would be missed. They had seven targets with photographs, though it was possible they would learn of even more potential targets once they were on site.
Four rooms, including one that would be used as an office, were already reserved for them at the Hotel Bijou de Tindouf. They made up an entire floor in the hotel, which was not far from Abimbola’s offices. That floor had been officially designated as short-term diplomatic headquarters of the U.S. A large parcel van that had obviously been hastily painted with the emblem of West Algeria was waiting to transport them and their luggage and equipment to the temporary embassy.
Nine U.S. Army soldiers accompanied them on the journey, to serve as security for the diplomatic mission. Each of them, while they were on the plane, had quietly identified himself as an Army intelligence officer, even though most of them were posing as NCO’s. Officially, there were three lieutenants, three sergeants, and three corporals. They would stand guard in three-man teams at the temporary embassy, adding to the cover Noah and the team would have for carrying out their real mission.
Unfortunately, because it was so late in the evening, there wasn’t much they could do. With the first shift of Army guards in place, they sat down in Noah’s room to continue going over the target files.
“This guy Oni is the primary,” Noah said. “He’s also President Abimbola’s closest friend, so I’m planning to use discretion and deception in his case. The others are primarily Polisario Front, so we don’t need to be quite as circumspect in dealing with them. There are regular hit squads moving in and around the Polisario all the time, and any of them could be targeted for a number of reasons.”
He pointed at several photos laying on the bed. “These four,” he said, “are likely to be targets of opportunity. I think we’ll program them into the smart guns and look for concealable vantage points.”
“Good thing they’re quiet, then,” Marco said.
“Yes,” Noah said, “but we still can’t take the chance of letting them be found intact. The refugee camps are divided into five sections, so we need to program them all and spread them out among those sections. The problem we are going to have is that the camps are mostly in fairly flat desert. Finding a place to conceal the smart guns is not going to be easy. The buildings are low, mostly made of sand brick or concrete, but a large percentage of the populations live in tents.”
“Then what we need to do,” Neil said, “is go out there and let me scan it with the drones. I should be able to spot the best vantage point, somewhere to place them with some cover.”
Noah nodded. “Okay, we’ll plan on that after I meet with the president in the morning. Neil, you won’t be going to this meeting, so you can make contact with Prudence Mays and arrange a tour of the refugee camps for us. Let her know that we’ll be needing at least two vehicles, and another interpreter if we have to split up.”
“You got it,” Neil said.
“I think that covers it,” Noah said. “We might as well relax for what’s left of the evening and get some sleep. The next few days might be pretty intense, so get whatever rest you can while we have the opportunity.”
Neil and Jenny went to their room, and Marco went to his own. Noah and Sarah decided to share a shower, then got into bed. An hour later, they drifted off to sleep.
They rose early the next morning, as soon as the sun began to peek over the horizon. There was a small restaurant attached to the hotel, and they all, except for the guards on duty, went down to breakfast together. It was a simple affair, with rich coffee and French pastries.
As soon as they were finished, a limousine arrived to take Noah and his team to visit President Abimbola. Marco had to interpret, but his French was definitely up to the job.
“The driver says we will be taken directly to his office,” he said. “The president is waiting for us, and I guess we were supposed to be there earlier.”
“Really?” Noah asked. “It’s only seven thirty, now. According to the itinerary they gave me, we weren’t supposed to meet with him until nine.”
“I’m just telling you what the man said,” Marco said. “It sounds like there might be something going on that makes them want to hurry up and take whatever deals with the U.S. they can get.”
The ride took only about fifteen minutes, and the driver then escorted them directly to the president’s office. A secretary sat in the foyer, but kept her eyes down as they passed. A moment later, they stepped into the office of the President of West Algeria.
Chidi Abimbola was seated behind the desk, while Oni Zidane was standing beside it. Oni smiled and addressed them in perfect English.
“We welcome you, Mr. Ambassador,” he said. “May I present President Chidi Abimbola, temporary executive of West Algeria.”
“I’m James McConnell, and I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. President,” Noah said, “but I must correct Mr. Zidane. I am not an ambassador, simply a career foreign service officer who’s been sent to pave the way for future diplomatic relations. If we come to a successful agreement, a new ambassador will definitely be appointed right away. He would certainly have more authority and flexibility than they’ve given me.” He withdrew an envelope from his pocket and held it out with both hands to President Abimbola. “I present my credentials, Mr. President.”
Chidi smiled as he glanced at the papers inside, then kept the smile as he looked at Sarah and Marco. “And these are?”
“Mr. President, this lovely lady is my assistant, Elizabeth Roth,” Noah said. Abimbola smiled at her and bent over her hand in a bow, gently brushing her fingers with his lips. “And this gentleman,” Noah went on, “is Pierre Lafontaine. He was sent along because I didn’t score very well when I studied French back in high school.”
Abimbola held out a hand, and Marco shook hands with him. “Mr. President,” he said, “it is an honor to meet you.”
Abimbola smiled and turned back to Noah. “Mr. McConnell, it is not necessary for us to concern ourselves with titles or positions today. It is my understanding that you are here to open negotiations on diplomatic relations between your country and mine, and that is all I could ask.”
Noah smiled back. “That’s exactly my purpose,” he said. “And may I first congratulate you on your independence. My home country went through something similar when it was formed, and I can only hope you have fewer problems than we did.”
The president chuckled. “Don’t we both,” he said. “Please, seat yourselves.” He pointed at a conference table on one side of the room, and rose from his chair to move toward it. He took the chair at one end, while Oni held the chair to his right for Noah. Sarah and Marco took a couple of the other chairs, and then Oni sat down at the president’s left.
“Mr. McConnell,” Oni said, “can you tell us what level of support and recognition your country is prepared to offer?”
Noah had carefully studied the paperwork he’d been given regarding this meeting. “The United States of America is prepared to recognize President Abimbola’s government as the legitimate interim government of West Algeria. If we can come to certain agreements regarding mutual defense and the establishment of a U.S. military presence within your country, then we are prepared to offer both political and military support, as well as sponsorship for your application to the United Nations.”
Chidi’s smile grew slightly wider. “Then let us discuss that military presence. I presume you have an outline of what your country would want, as far as location and the size of yo
ur base?”
Noah opened the briefcase he was carrying and took out a file. He opened it and withdrew several papers, passing one each to Chidi and Oni. “If you’ll take a look at this,” he said, “the area we would like to acquire is roughly eight hundred hectares about a hundred kilometers southeast of Tindouf. This would primarily be a drone base, but we would maintain a couple of fighter squadrons and a battalion of ground troops there, mostly just for rapid response to our allies throughout north and northwest Africa. These allies include Mauritania, Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt, and Mali, and this particular base would be designed for air support and rapid deployment of troops in support of those allies when needed. For that reason, we would need to build a couple of air strips, maintenance hangars, storage hangars, administrative buildings, as well as housing and barracks for all of the personnel.”
Oni lowered his eyebrows. “Eight hundred hectares? That would be quite a large drone base, would it not?”
“Which is why we specify that we would maintain troops and air squadrons there, as well. As part of the agreement, West Algeria would become another ally of the United States, so those troops and aircraft would be available for the defense of your country, as much as any other ally.”
“So what you are saying,” Chidi said, “is that if we agree, you will commit your forces within our country to aid and assist our own defenses? Does this include any actions that take place during what may amount to a civil war?”
“It does,” Noah said. “While we regret the reality, the fact is that Algiers is unlikely to let such a large portion of the country split off without a fight. The troops we would station here will be a full battalion from the 101st Airborne Division of the United States Army. They are some of the finest troops we have, and could offer a great deal of training to your own soldiers. Our experience in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran has given us a clear insight into desert warfare. These soldiers know what they’re doing, and would be of terrific benefit to your country.”
Chidi looked closely at the map on the paper Noah had given him. “The place you have marked is in a very rugged area. There are currently no actual roads in that region. I presume your military would be responsible for all of the construction, including roadways?”
“That’s correct. Our goal is to acquire the base with the minimum impact on your country, both economically and ecologically. Since that area does not have any sources of fresh water, we would need to establish roads quickly so that water can be tanked in until a pipeline can be run. We anticipate that the establishment of the base in that location might create as many as a thousand peripheral employment opportunities for some of your citizens.”
“The most direct route,” Oni said, “would be straight through Boujdour and Smara refugee camps. I would expect that the Sahrawis would welcome the opportunity for work, and your road would probably be lined with market stalls and restaurants.”
“American soldiers have always welcomed native entrepreneurship,” Noah said. “You’d be very surprised how much money a couple of thousand American military personnel can spend on local food and merchandise. You could be talking about as much as a few million dollars a year finding its way into the Sahrawi economy in those camps.”
“Two thousand soldiers?” Chidi asked. “I thought we were talking about a single battalion.”
“The Airborne Infantry Battalion I’m referring to amounts to about eight hundred soldiers, but we are also talking about forty-eight jet fighters in two squadrons, several transport aircraft, maintenance facilities and personnel for the aircraft, a motor pool for trucks and vehicles plus their own maintenance personnel and facilities, a medical facility and personnel for the troops, not to mention administrative personnel—yes, I think we’re talking about a couple thousand people, and possibly more. There would also be several hundred jobs on the base for native employment, so that would probably add a few million more dollars to the local economy.”
Oni smiled, and turned to his president. “I believe, Mr. President,” he said, “that Mr. McConnell has come bearing gifts. Between the military support such a base would offer and the economic opportunities that it presents, I believe we have little to lose and very much to gain in such an agreement.”
Chidi nodded. “I tend to agree,” he said. “Mr. McConnell, you mentioned political support. Can you explain what you mean by that?”
“Yes, sir,” Noah said. “Political support for your country means that our State Department and diplomatic corps will work to negotiate peaceful resolutions to protests that some of your neighboring countries might make regarding your secession. For example, we anticipate that Morocco is likely to expect West Algeria to take a strong position supporting the Sahrawis and the Polisario. That could lead to border conflicts that could potentially devastate your country. We would send diplomats to Morocco and to West Algeria to try to negotiate a peaceful agreement or settlement that would avoid such conflicts. Based on recent intelligence we picked up in Morocco and Western Sahara, it is even possible that we could get them to sit down at the table and discuss repatriation of some of the refugees. Our State Department believes this is far more likely with West Algeria than with your former mother country.”
Chidi nodded. “I believe you may be correct about that. I have spoken with many Moroccan officials who believe that the time for repatriation and cessation of hostilities over Western Sahara is long overdue. Algiers has managed to keep the matter out of reasonable negotiations for quite some time, however.”
“That’s the position our State Department has taken, as well. We think that it’s very possible that a crisis that began in the nineteen seventies could finally be nearing its end, and that West Algeria might play a pivotal role in the talks that could bring it about.”
Chidi looked into Noah’s eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. “Let me ask you, Mr. McConnell,” he said, “what other conditions of alliance with the United States might there be?”
Noah smiled. “We’d like to buy a lot of your iron ore,” he said. “We understand that Russia has been your biggest customer, but the trade agreements between Algiers and Moscow have left your mines getting what we consider inferior prices for your ore. If we can establish a trade agreement that will give us first right of refusal on your iron ore, we will pay you the same prices we pay to Europe and South America. That will be about a threefold increase over the prices you’ve been getting from Russia.”
“And our natural gas?” Oni asked. “Would you want first right of refusal over that, as well?”
“Actually, no,” Noah said. “Transporting natural gas across the oceans is expensive, and we couldn’t pay you the kind of prices you’re already getting from Europe. We prefer to stay out of the gas market over here, other than what we would purchase through your local distribution outlets for the purposes of our military base.”
The conversation continued for another hour, with very little argument from the West Algerians. It seemed that Noah had done a very good job of presenting the American position, and he and Sarah and Marco finally left with a promise that the agreement would be drawn up and ready for the president’s signature by the following morning.
The driver was waiting outside the office for them, and bowed as they came out. He spoke quickly in French to Marco, who broke into a smile.
“He says we are invited to a dinner this evening,” he said to Noah. “The president and his advisers will be hosting it. I get the impression that turning it down might be the same as slapping the president’s face.”
“Have you ever heard of a diplomat turn down free food?” Noah asked. “Tell him we’ll be delighted, and find out about time and place and transportation.”
Marco spoke with the driver for a moment, then turned back to Noah as they were led to the elevator and back to the limousine. “He’ll pick us up at seven thirty,” he said. “The dinner is here in this building, apparently there’s a big dining room downstairs.”
“Sounds good,”
Noah said. The driver held the back door open as they all climbed inside, and then they were on the way back to the hotel.
When they arrived, they were surprised to find not just Neil and Jenny in the room set aside as an office, but another lady. She smiled and held out her hand to Noah, who took it and shook with her.
“Prudence Mays,” she said. “I’m supposed to let you know that any support I can give is yours.”
“Thank you,” Noah said. “We were hoping to get out and take a look at some of the refugee camps today, but it turns out we have an appointment this evening. Are any of them close enough that we can be back here by six thirty? We’ve been invited to dinner with the president, and I don’t think we can afford to miss it. It’s even possible that I’ll be able to identify some of my targets there.”
“Oh, I agree,” Prudence said. “Boujdour is nearest. We could probably get there and back in plenty of time. The others might be a bit tricky.”
“Then let’s go to that one today, and save the rest for tomorrow. Do you have vehicles for us?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve got you two G-Class Mercedes SUVs. They’re sitting outside right now. It’s almost ten thirty, are you ready to go now? The sooner we get started, the better.”
Noah nodded. “Let us gather up a few things,” he said, “and we’ll be ready to go. Marco, let’s get two of the smart guns, and Neil, you grab one of the drones. If anyone asks, we’re doing a survey of the camps to help us make recommendations for additional aid.”
Prudence nodded. “That’s a good cover,” she said. “My cover story here is that I run the U.S. Refugee Child Welfare Program. Since we provide a lot of food and medical care to the refugees, and not just the children, nobody is going to think much of me bringing diplomats to look it over. If anyone asks you, tell them that I’m making demands for more food and medicine. They know me, they’ll believe it.”
