The O'Leary Enigma

by Bob Purssell

  “Henri’s information is probably the best you’ll get if you want to attempt a rescue. However, the longer we wait, the smaller the probability of success.”

  Ambassador Kramer observed, “So, it’s shit or get off the pot?”

  “Yes,” replied Clarence.

  “Okay. Ethel, if we move, what’s my downside?”

  “You’ve worked hard cultivating the president of Chad. I don’t think he’ll appreciate your going behind his back. So far, this hostage crisis hasn’t created much of a splash back home. If our rescue attempt were to fail that would likely change, and both governments would be embarrassed. And even if the intelligence is correct, the enterprise is risky.”

  The ambassador was about to thank Ethel for her insights, but she hadn’t finished. “Mr. Ambassador, with all respect to these two fine young women, I think you’re making a mistake in trusting the input from this Henri fellow. He’s an unknown quantity who could be setting us up.”

  This was too much for me. Impetuously, I asked, “Sir, may I say a few words in defense of Henri?”

  Throwing Clarence a hard look, Ethel, not pleased, did a slow burn. With an almost imperceptible nod, Susan gave me encouragement. Preparing to rein in an over-eager junior, as he had done innumerable times, Clarence began to speak, but Ambassador Kramer raised his hand and said, “Lieutenant, go ahead; speak your piece.”

  “Sir, Susan and I are the only ones who have actually met Henri. To us he is not an unknown. He is a person.” After a pause to take a breath, I added, “He could have delivered me into the hands of Hamza and his thugs. Instead, he gave me, at great risk to himself, the directions that saved my life.”

  The ambassador observed, “Didn’t Hamza and his gang catch up with you?”

  “Only because I ran out of gas just short of safety, sir.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. Anyone else?”

  Susan responded, “Mister Ambassador, Henri is different from your ordinary Chadian political activist, politician. He’s that rare patriot who is trying to make his country a better place. And that means keeping it safe from foreign intervention; be it ours or the terrorists.”

  The ambassador sardonically asked, “Are you telling me he’s the kind of person one wants to deal with?”

  “Sir,” replied Susan, “Henri has done for us. His communication system helped to secure the release of three hostages. His instructions made Barbara’s escape possible. I assert he has earned our trust with his deeds. I say rely on Henri and his information.”

  The room went silent. Ambassador Kramer stood up and looked out his office window. After a goodly amount of time, he said, “Charles, can you pull this rescue off?”

  “We’ve studied the information we’ve already received. Tonight, we’ll have the people and assets we need in country. If we get the location of the hostages, yes, we can do it.”

  “Ethel, set up a call so I can tell the President what we’re planning and then ask for his blessing. Tell his staff to invite whom they want.”

  Ethel observed, “Mister Ambassador, the Secretary[50] won’t be happy with your going around him.”

  “That’s what you get when you give a contributor a key position like ambassador to Chad.” Everyone smiled and I had to stifle a laugh. Ambassador Kramer then said, “Clarence, Ms. Waterford, Lieutenant O’Leary, thank you for your efforts and thank you for your counsel.”

  Persisting, Ethel asked, “Mister Ambassador, do you really want to risk your job on this unknown’s tip?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  GOING HOME

  Since neither Susan nor I had eaten anything today, we took advantage of the embassy’s kitchen, which prepared us sandwiches and fruit. Dead tired, we napped in a vacant conference room. Later on, when Clarence joined us, Susan asked, “How are we doing?”

  “Ambassador Kramer feels he’s convinced the President. The President has promised a decision by six our time. At the ambassador’s direction, I spoke with Henri.”

  I asked, “And?”

  “We had a good exchange. I reaffirmed our agreement. He gave me the general location of the hostages. That has helped Charles position our forces.

  “At my suggestion, Henri is removing himself to a safe place. I told him to expect a decision tonight.”

  I said, “Come on, Mister President.”

  Clarence replied, “Indeed.”

  * * *

  Ostensibly, the navy had ordered me to Chad to assist in restoring communications with the hostage-takers. All the rest of my activities were unauthorized, ad hoc efforts. When I mentioned this, Clarence told Susan, “See if you can get our friend a seat on tonight’s flight.”

  Upon entering the airport, Susan excused herself to talk with a well-dressed Chadian man. Standing by myself, I felt self-conscious, since I noticed people were looking at me. Discreetly, I studied my reflection in a lobby window and thought, my, those BetterYou hormones have changed things. I looked away and—even though it was way too late—wondered, had I done the right thing?

  In the ladies room, I posed in front of a mirror and contemplated my new shape. Turning left and right, I observed the way my dress draped over my now-prominent breasts. Thrilled, engrossed, I didn’t hear Susan until she said, “I didn’t know you liked to look at hot chicks.”

  Embarrassed, I apologized for my vanity but silently I relished her labeling me a “hot chick.”

  * * *

  Sipping a strawberry colada, I sat in the airport bar as Susan fiddled with her communicator. Suddenly she announced, “Got it; you’re on the night flight to Paris. At Charles de Gaulle, I’ve arranged a connecting flight to JFK. I know it’s the long way around, but there aren’t any direct flights from Chad to the United States. If you give me your destination, I’ll see if I can arrange a flight to wherever you’re going in the States.”

  Taken aback, amazed at the woman’s consideration with everything going on in her world, I replied, “Don’t bother; I’ll handle it.”

  “It’s not a bother,” answered Susan, who added sardonically. “I’ll have plenty of time once you’ve taken off.”

  “Well, if it’s not a bother, I would like to end up in College Station, Texas.”

  “That shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll have something by the time you arrive in Paris.”

  I wanted to discuss what had happened today, to understand how all the pieces fit together, to make a friend. But we were in a public place, and you never could be sure somebody or some device wasn’t monitoring our conversation. While I wrote on a napkin, I said, “I’ll give you my address and my number. Don’t be a stranger.”

  With a smile, Susan gave me her card. Unable to resist, I asked, “So what does a deputy administrator for educational programs do?”

  “I grade homework,” and we both started laughing, as if her wisecrack was the funniest thing ever said.

  A female voice announced the first boarding call for my flight in four languages. We cut short our drinking, paid up, and proceeded to the boarding area. Just outside the security gate, Susan said, “Barbara, I envy you.”

  “Why?” I asked in amazement.

  “You came here. You stepped in. You made a positive difference.”

  Thinking of the pile of bodies I had left behind in less than seventy-two hours, of my bashing in a man’s skull, wondering if all the risks that Susan and I had taken would make a difference; I almost lost it and broke down. Susan must have realized I was on the edge, because she gave me a hug and that made the difference in my maintaining self-control.

  We separated, and Susan said, “Oh, I have something for you. It’s a long trip, so I figured you needed some reading material.” With that, she handed me a paperback Conrad anthology.

  Wondering when she had found time to buy me a present, I simply replied, “Thank you,” and then asked, “What abo
ut the dress?”

  “Keep it as a remembrance. You earned it.”

  Just then, an airline person announced the first call for boarding. I said, “Good-bye,” and she said, “Barbara, you have a good flight.”

  I got in line at the gate, showed my boarding pass, and then looked back. Susan waved, turned, and hurriedly left.

  * * *

  Editor’s Note: In a private interview held on 5 October 2053, Barbara showed me the yellow dress that she wore while working to resolve the Chad hostage crisis. She also told me, “We were about to land in Paris when the captain announced that Chadian Special Forces had, by overwhelming their captors, liberated the hostages.” Barbara then added, “The reaction on the plane was interesting. Most of the passengers were joyful, ecstatic even, but there were Moslem Arabs who greeted the news with silence.”

  * * *

  When I got to Charles de Gaulle, I discovered that Susan had booked me via George Bush (Houston - IAH) to Easterwood.[51] Waiting for my New York flight, I watched and listened to French TV on my communicator. Over and over, they played video showing the president of Chad announcing the hostage rescue and praising his soldiers. The French TV commentators trumpeted the close cooperation between France and the Republic of Chad. For my part, I wondered who had suggested the idea of giving the locals the credit. Was it Ambassador Kramer, Clarence, Charles, or someone back in the United States?

  On my trip to New York, I began writing a report detailing what I had accomplished on my missions to the Eisenhower and Chad. I did this for two reasons: First, to the maximum degree possible, I wanted to ensure my efforts received the credit they deserved. Second, since the United States had decided to keep secret its involvement in the rescue, I couldn’t very well announce my own very different (true) version. Therefore, I needed to formulate and then write a coherent, consistent story that fit into my government’s policy of keeping quiet our involvement.

  On the flight to Houston, I decided to read everything I could about the hostage rescue. Boarding the plane, carrying the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and Washington Post, I looked more like a newsboy than a passenger.

  The Times had a photograph that purported to show members of the Chadian Special Forces standing near the bodies of slain hostage-takers. While I did not see anything in the photograph that would belie its caption, I did not believe the troops pictured actually performed the rescue.

  The Journal carried a story describing how advanced signals intelligence (sigint) and close cooperation between United States and foreign intelligence organizations had led to the rescue. I smiled as I thought about what I had observed.

  The Post had a blurry head shot of Hamza. Instantly, I knew it came from the picture taken at the birthday party given for Ngarmbatina’s son. The story accompanying the Hamza photograph identified him as a member of the Ahmed and Saddam Ben El Sharif terrorist cell.

  I closed my eyes and thought of my half-brother, Ahmed. What would he think if he knew his half-sister was deeply involved in the effort that had thwarted his plans? Would he care? Would he swear his vengeance upon me? And what should I do? Ignore my half-brother or dedicate myself to his destruction?

  These thoughts, and others, raced through my head. During the layover in Houston, I carefully tore out Hamza’s photograph from the Post and saved it. On the flight to Easterwood, I decided to keep my own personal dossier on my half-brother. Maybe our paths would cross again. If they did, I would be ready … in spades.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning, I appeared at my CO’s office. In my briefcase were my reports documenting what I had accomplished on the Eisenhower and in Chad. I had pulled no punches. Before I could hand them to Commander Waldron, he explained, “I’m besieged with communications concerning Lieutenant O’Leary.”

  Wondering what the commander had read, I cautiously asked, “Sir?”

  “Well, in yesterday’s mail, I received a very complimentary letter from the captain of the Eisenhower.” Handing me a copy of the letter, Commander Waldron said, “I don’t need to comment; his letter speaks for itself.”

  My CO continued. “Just this morning, I received two emails. The first, from Susan Waterford, summarizes your debriefing after returning from your mission to reestablish communications with the hostage takers. You had a close call, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How are you handling that? Any problems?”

  Not wanting to discuss emotional, psychological stuff, extremely interested in reading what Susan had written, I responded, “No problems, sir. I’m okay.”

  “Good. But promise me, if there are any problems, you’ll see Medical.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  After handing me Susan’s report, my CO said, “The second email of the morning was from Ambassador Kramer. He spared no words in praising your efforts in support of the hostage rescue. Among his compliments, he wrote, and I quote, ‘Lieutenant O’Leary’s counsel played a key role in deciding to rescue the hostages.’” Looking up, Commander Waldron added, “I must say you have been busy.”

  Ecstatic, but trying to maintain an air of humility, I replied, “Just doing my job, sir.”

  Handing me Ambassador Kramer’s letter, my CO said, “I’d say more than your job. These kinds of letters are what a commanding officer likes to receive concerning one of his subordinates. I compliment you, Lieutenant. Keep up the good work.”

  Blushing, thrilled, I replied, “Thank you, sir.”

  Smiling, obviously feeling magnanimous, Commander Waldron dismissed me with, “You’ve been at it for four weeks. You’re entitled to some R & R. Take the rest of the week off.”

  Thanking my CO, I decided not to hand in my reports. Later, after reading the other submitted reports, I amended mine so they were both consistent and upbeat.

  Best to go with the flow.

  * * *

  An intercepted communication (dated 27 May) from Abdul-Jabbar (alias, real name unknown) to Hasmad (alias, real name possibly Ahmed Ben El Sharif) read:

  Hasmad,

  By the will of Allah, this is what I have discovered about the evil woman, whose name we do not know, that you call the She Devil.[52]

  I have spoken to everyone who believes that they saw the She Devil. I was able to confirm that she killed two of our brothers in faith (Hamza and Abdul). She also killed a Chadian and wounded two others. One Chadian who worked for Hamza says she speaks French and is very tall for a woman and dark-skinned for a Westerner. The Chadian woman—the one who claims that the She Devil kidnapped her and her children—describes the She Devil as very tall and dark. She also told me that the She Devil drives cars very fast and speaks French, but curses in another language. I instructed the Chadian woman to repeat, as best she could, the She Devil’s blasphemies. To me, they sounded like English.

  The airport waitress Annette, who has returned to the faith, claims she saw a tall, dark-skinned woman drinking with the American Susan Waterford during the evening of May 19.

  Khalid, who works at the Ministry of Education, knows of Waterford. She claims to be an expert in elementary education, but Khalid is pretty sure that this is a cover. He feels she is really CIA.

  Numair, who works at the airport in building maintenance and sells hashish to airport and airline employees, has many contacts among the Westerners. One of his customers, Nicole Bellevue, works for Air France as a stewardesses. She told Numair there was a tall, dark-skinned American woman flying in coach named Barbara O’Malley on the May 19 night flight to Paris.

  I think the person that we call the She Devil and Barbara O’Malley are the same person.

  If it pleases you and if Allah is willing, I will travel to Paris and use my contacts there to check the passenger manifests of flights leaving from Paris to America. Allah willing, I should learn where this devil Barbara O’Malley resides.

 
; Praise be to Allah, please advise me if you concur with this course of action.

  Abdul-Jabbar

  ENDNOTES

  [1] Arcturus: Brightest star in the Northern hemisphere, 36.7 light-years from Earth.

  [2] DARPA: Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency

  [3] LTJG: lieutenant, junior grade, pay grade O-2, equivalent to a first lieutenant in the army.

  [4] XO: executive officer, second-highest ranking officer on the ship.

  [5] C-2 Greyhound: twin-engine, turboprop cargo plane capable of landing on a carrier.

  [6] N’Djamena: capital of the Republic of Chad.

  [7] République du Tchad, Bureau Principal du Système de Téléphone et Télégraphe: Republic of Chad, Telephone and Telegraph System Headquarters.

  [8]bon mot: a humorous remark or observation.

  [9]The Christmas Song, Mel Torme, Bob Wells, 1944.

  [10] Chestnut blight fungus: Cryphonectria parasitica, formerly Endothia parasitica.

  [11] Politiekorps Amsterdam-Amstelland.

  [12]Hoofdagent: Sergeant.

  [13] Autocross: a time trial in which a driver navigates a narrow course with many turns.

  [14] Bump pass: An illegal maneuver in which the trailing kart bumps the lead kart, making the kart hard to control. Taking advantage of the lead kart’s distress, the trailing kart passes.

  [15] White flag: Indicates one lap left in the race.

  [16] Dive-bombing: An illegal but often used maneuver in which a trailing kart, by ramming the leading kart, gains the inside position during a turn.

  [17] Drafting: Following a leading kart very closely with the intention of reducing the trailing kart’s aerodynamic drag and increasing its speed.