Rogue Forces

by Dale Brown

  “Relax, Stacy Anne, relax,” President Joseph Gardner said. He smiled as he loosened his tie and sat back in his seat. “You look even more beautiful when you’re angry.”

  “What are you going to do about McLanahan, Joe? I thought he’d disappear, move out to some condo in Vegas, play with his kid, take up fly-fishing or something. Not only has he not vanished, but now he’s stirring up shit between Iraq and Turkey.”

  “I know. I got the briefing from Conrad. That’s what the guy does, Stacy. Don’t worry about him. Sooner or later he’ll go too far, again, and then we can prosecute him. He doesn’t have his high-tech air force to fight for him anymore.”

  “Did you hear what he told me? He refuses to turn over his mission data to the State Department! I want him thrown into prison, Joe!”

  “I said, relax, Stacy,” Gardner said. “I’m not going to do anything that’ll bring McLanahan’s name back into the press. Everyone’s forgotten about him, and that’s the way I prefer it. We try to haul him into a federal court for putting up a few fake radar images to fool the Turks, and we’ll turn him into a media hero again. We’ll wait until he does something really bad, and then we’ll nail him.”

  “That guy is bad news, Joe,” Barbeau said. “He humiliated both of us, shit on us and rubbed our noses in it. Now he’s gotten himself some kind of big government contract and is flying around northern Iraq.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Does he still have those robot things, the ones he…?”

  “Yes, as far as I know, he still has them,” the president said. “I haven’t forgotten about them. I have a task force in the FBI that scours police reports all over the world for sightings. Now that we know he’s working in Iraq, we’ll expand the search there. We’ll get them.”

  “I don’t see how you can allow him to keep those things. They belong to the U.S. government, not to McLanahan.”

  “You know damned well why, Stacy,” Gardner said irritably. “McLanahan has got enough dirt on both of us to end our careers in a hot second. The robots are a small price to pay for his silence. If the guy was tearing up cities or robbing banks with them, I’d make it a priority to find them, but the FBI task force hasn’t reported any sightings or received any tips about them. McLanahan’s being smart and keeping those things under wraps.”

  “I can’t believe he has such a powerful weapon like those robots and suits of armor or whatever they are and hasn’t used them.”

  “Like I said, he’s smart. But the first time he breaks those things out, my task force will pounce on him.”

  “What’s taking them so long? The robots were ten feet tall and as strong as tanks! He used them to kill the Russian president in his private residence and then used them to break into Camp David!”

  “There’s only a handful of them out there, and from what I’ve been briefed they fold up and are pretty easy to conceal,” the president said. “But the main reason I think they haven’t is because McLanahan has some powerful friends that are helping deflect investigators away.”

  “Like who?”

  “I don’t know…yet,” Gardner said. “Someone with political clout, influential enough to attract investors to buy the high-tech gadgets like that recon plane, and savvy enough on Capitol Hill and the Pentagon to get the government contracts and skirt around the technology export laws.”

  “I think you should pull his contracts and send him packing. The man is dangerous.”

  “He’s not bothering us, he’s doing a job in Iraq which allows me to pull the troops out of there faster—and I don’t want to wake up one morning to find one of those robots standing over me in my bedroom,” Gardner said. “Forget about McLanahan. Eventually he’ll screw up, and then we can take him down…quietly.”

  JANDARMA PROVINCIAL HEADQUARTERS, VAN, REPUBLIC OF TURKEY

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING

  The eastern regional headquarters of the internal security forces of Turkey, the Jandarma, was near Van Airport, southeast of the city and not far from Lake Van. The main headquarters complex consisted of four three-story buildings forming a square with a large courtyard, cafeteria, and seating area in the center. Across the parking lot to the northeast was a single square four-story building that housed the detention center. Southeast of headquarters were the barracks, training academy, athletic fields, and shooting ranges.

  The headquarters building was situated right on Ipek Golu Avenue, the main thoroughfare connecting the city to the airport. Since the headquarters experienced so many drive-by attacks—usually just some rocks or garbage thrown at the building, but occasionally a pistol shot or Molotov cocktail aimed at a window—the sides of the complex facing the avenue to the northwest, Sumerbank Street to the southwest, and Ayak Street to the northeast were shielded by a ten-foot-high reinforced concrete wall, decorated with paintings and mosaics along with some anti-Jandarma grafitti. All of the windows on that side were made of bulletproof glass.

  No such protective walls existed on the southeast side; the sounds of gunfire on the weapon ranges day and night, the constant presence of police and Jandarma trainees, and the long open distance between there and the main buildings meant that the perimeter was just a twelve-foot-tall illuminated reinforced chain-link fence topped with razor wire, patrolled by cameras and roving patrols in pickup trucks. The neighborhood around the complex was light industrial; the nearest residential area was an apartment complex four blocks away, occupied mostly by Jandarma officers, staff, and academy instructors.

  The academy trained law enforcement officers from all over Turkey. Graduates were assigned to city or provincial police department assignments, or they stayed for further training to become Jandarma officers or took advanced classes in riot control, special weapons and tactics, bomb disposal, antiterrorist operations, intelligence, narcotics interdiction, and dozens of other specialties. The academy had a staff and faculty of one hundred and a resident student enrollment of about one thousand.

  Along with gunfire from the weapon training ranges, another constant at the Jandarma complex in Van were protesters. The detention facility housed around five hundred prisoners, mostly suspected Kurdish insurgents, smugglers, and foreigners captured along the frontier regions. The facility was not a prison and was not designed for long-term incarceration, but at least one-fifth of the prisoners had been there for over a year, awaiting trial or deportation. Most of the protests were small—mothers or wives holding signs with the pictures of their loved ones, demanding justice—but some were larger, and a few had turned violent.

  The demonstration that began that morning started out large and grew swiftly. A rumor had circulated that the Jandarma had captured Zilar Azzawi, the infamous Kurdish terrorist leader nicknamed the Hawk, and was torturing her for information.

  The protesters closed off Ipek Golu Avenue and blocked all of the main entrances to the Jandarma facility. The Jandarma responded quickly and with force. The academy outfitted all of the students in riot gear and surrounded the two main buildings, concentrating forces on the detention center in case the mob tried to rush the building and free Azzawi and other prisoners. Traffic was diverted around the protest site down Sumerbank and Ayak streets to other thoroughfares to avoid completely closing traffic to Van Airport.

  The chaotic situation and the diversion of students, faculty, staff, and most of the security forces to the main avenue where the protesters were, made it all too easy to breach the facility from the southeast.

  A dump truck drove through the outer and inner chain link service entrance gates on Sumerbank Street with ease, then sped past the weapons range and across the athletic fields. The handful of security guards gave chase and opened fire with automatic weapons, but nothing could stop it. The truck drove straight into the academy barracks building…

  …where three thousand pounds of high explosives packed into the dump section detonated, destroying the three-story student barracks and heavily damaging the main academic building nearby.

  STATE COMMUNICA
TIONS FACILITY, ÇANCAYA, ANKARA, TURKEY

  A SHORT TIME LATER

  “Today I am saddened to announce that I am instituting a state of emergency in the Republic of Turkey,” President Kurzat Hirsiz said. He read his statement from the state communications facility in Çancaya emotionlessly, woodenly, not even looking up from his paper. “This morning’s dastardly PKK attack on the regional Jandarma headquarters in Van, which resulted in at least twenty deaths and scores injured, forces me to respond with urgency.

  “Effective immediately, local and provincial law enforcement departments will be augmented by regular and reserve military personnel,” he went on, still not looking up from his prepared statement. “They are there to assist in security operations only. This will free local and provincial police to make arrests and investigate crime.

  “I must report that several threats by the PKK have been received via radio messages, coded classified ads in newspapers, and postings on the Internet, urging followers and sympathizers all around the world to rise up and strike at the Republic of Turkey. Our analysts have concluded that the messages are meant to activate sleeper cells throughout the region to begin concentrated attacks on government facilities all around the country.

  “After the incident at Van, I am forced to take these threats seriously and respond in force. Therefore I am ordering the temporary shutdown of all government offices in Turkey, the establishment of a strict dusk-to-dawn curfew in all cities and towns, and mandatory one hundred percent individual and vehicle searches by security personnel.

  “The next actions that I have ordered require the assistance and cooperation of the public at large. Because of the danger of unknowingly spreading terrorist instructions, I am asking that all newspapers, magazines, radio, television, and all private media outlets voluntarily cease publication of any advertisements, articles, or notices submitted by anyone who is not a reporter or editor of the publication, or where the source of the information is not verified or personally known. My intention is to avoid completely shutting down the media. It is essential that the availability of coded messages to sleeper cells be cut off completely, and my government will be contacting all outlets to ensure they understand the importance of their swift and thorough cooperation.

  “Finally, I am asking that all of the Internet providers in the Republic of Turkey and those who provide service to Turkey voluntarily install and update filters and redirectors to block access to known and suspected terrorist Web sites and servers. This should not result in a massive denial of Internet services in Turkey. E-mail, commerce, and access to regular sites and services should continue normally—only those servers that are known to host terrorist or anti-government sites will be shut down. We will closely monitor all the Internet providers available to the people of Turkey to be sure access to legitimate sites is not affected.”

  Hirsiz took a nervous sip of water from an off-camera glass, his hand visibly trembling, his eyes never looking at the camera. “I sincerely apologize to the people of Turkey for being forced to take these actions,” he went on after a long, uncomfortable pause, “but I feel I have no choice, and I beg for your prayers, patience, and cooperation. My government will work tirelessly to stop the terrorists, restore security and order, and return our nation to normalcy. I ask the citizens of Turkey to be vigilant, helpful to government officials and law enforcement, and to be strong and brave. Our nation has been through this before, and we have always emerged stronger and wiser. We shall do so again. Thank you.”

  Hirsiz threw his statement pages away as Prime Minister Ays¸e Akas came up to him. “That’s the hardest speech I’ve ever given,” Hirsiz said.

  “I hoped you would change your mind, Kurzat,” she said. “It’s not too late, even now.”

  “I have to do this, Ays¸e,” Hirsiz said. “It’s far too late to change course now.”

  “No, it’s not. Let me help you do it. Please.” An aide passed a note to Akas. “Perhaps this will help: the American embassy is requesting a high-level meeting in Irbil. The vice president, Phoenix, is in Baghdad and wants to attend, along with the secretary of state.”

  “Impossible,” Hirsiz said. “We can’t stop this now.” He thought for a moment. “We can’t meet with them: the country is under a state of emergency. We can’t guarantee the safety of the president or of our ministers in Iraq.”

  “But if you did attend, I’m sure they’ll offer substantial military, technical, and economic assistance if they meet with us—they rarely come empty-handed,” Akas said. “The American ambassador has already sent a message to the foreign ministry about compensation for the Patriot missile launches.”

  “Compensation? For what? What did they say?”

  “The ambassador, speaking on behalf of Secretary of State Barbeau, said an unarmed reconnaissance plane run by a private firm contracted to provide surveillance of the northern Iraq border area inadvertently emitted what they called ‘accidental electronic interference’ that caused us to fire those Patriot missiles. The ambassador was very apologetic and said he was authorized to offer substantial compensation or replacement of the missiles, and also offered assistance in providing information on any unknown vehicles or persons crossing the border into Turkey.” Hirsiz nodded. “This is a great opportunity, Kurzat. You can have the meeting, then cancel the state of emergency after the American vice president makes an agreement. You save face, and there’s no war.”

  “Saved by the Americans again, eh, Ays¸e?” Hirsiz said emotionlessly. “You’re so sure they’ll want to help?” He motioned to an aide, who handed him a secure cellular telephone. “The timetable’s been moved up, General,” he said after speed-dialing a number. “Get your forces moving and the planes in the air, now!”

  COMMAND AND CONTROL CENTER, ALLIED AIR BASE NAHLA, IRAQ

  THAT EVENING

  “Looks like the wheels are getting ready to come off the wagon up in Turkey, doesn’t it?” Kris Thompson said. He was sitting at the security director’s console in the Tank, watching news reports of the security crackdowns taking place in the Republic of Turkey on one of the big screens at the front of the Tank that was always tuned to an American all-news channel. The reports showed police and military forces clashing with protesters in the streets of Istanbul and Ankara. “Hirsiz is crazy. A state of emergency? Sounds like a military coup to me. I wonder if he’s still in charge.”

  “Keep the chatter down, Thompson,” Jack Wilhelm said, sitting at his console nearby. “We can all see what’s going on. Put Sensor Eight up front and zoom ten-X.” He studied an image of three delivery trucks driving down a road, the cargo sections swaying noticeably in the turns. “They’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say? Zoom fifteen-X, get a description, pass it along to the IA. Who do they have in the area, Major Jabburi?” The Turkish liaison officer spread out his charts and logbooks, then picked up his telephone. “C’mon, Major, we don’t have all damned day.”

  “There is a border patrol unit heading in the opposite direction, about ten miles away, sir,” Major Hamid Jabburi, the Turkish army deputy liaison officer, responded, after a long delay. “They have been notified to investigate the vehicles. They requested we continue monitoring and advise if they turn.”

  “Of course—what else do we have to do around here except cater to the IA?” Wilhelm grumbled. “A monkey can do this job.” At that moment Patrick McLanahan walked up to the brigade commander. “Speak of the devil. I gotta admit, General, your pregnant stealth bomber is killer. We’re getting the same amount of looks all over the sector with a fourth of the airframes; we’re saving network bandwidth, fuel, and personnel; and the ramp and the airspace are less congested.”

  “Thanks, Colonel. I’ll pass that along to Jon and his engineers.”

  “You do that.” Wilhelm motioned to the television monitor. “So, have you spoken with the veep about the shit happening in Turkey?”

  “He’s on his way to Irbil for a meeting with Iraqi, Kurdish, and maybe Turkish leade
rs,” Patrick said. “He said he’d get an update from us when he landed.”

  “Still think Turkey will invade?”

  “Yes. More than ever now. If Hirsiz doesn’t have support for war, the only legal way he can start one is by dissolving the National Assembly and ordering it himself.”

  “I think that’s crazy, General,” Wilhelm said. “The Zakhu attack was a big screwup, that’s all. The military is in the field because the generals want to show who’s boss and to force the Kurds, Iraqis, and Americans to the bargaining table.”

  “I hope you’re right, Colonel,” Patrick said. “But they’ve got a big force out there, and it’s getting bigger every hour.”

  “It’s a show of force, that’s all,” Wilhelm insisted.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Let’s say they do invade. How far do you think they’ll go?”

  “Hopefully they might just take Dahuk province and then stop,” Patrick said. “But with this force they’re rushing to the border, they might take Irbil International, besiege the city and half of Irbil province, and force the Kurdish government to flee. After that, they might march all the way to Kirkuk. They could say it’s to protect the KTC pipeline from Kurdish insurgents.”

  “‘Besiege’—listen to you, General,” Wilhelm said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Have you ever been in a siege, General, or do you just bomb the crap out of places from beyond visual range?”

  “Ever heard of a place called Jakutsk, Colonel?” Patrick asked.

  Wilhelm’s jaw dropped, first in shock—at himself—and then in shame. “Oh…oh, shit, General, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He had certainly heard of Jakutsk, the third largest city in Russian Siberia…

  …and the location of a large air base that was used as a forward tanker base to refuel Russian long-range bombers involved in the American holocaust—the nuclear attack on the United States that killed thirty thousand persons, injured almost a hundred thousand, and destroyed almost all of America’s long-range manned bombers and land-based intercontinental ballistic missiles, just six years earlier.