Rogue Forces

by Dale Brown

  “I told you, no,” Hirsiz said. “In a state of emergency the president must decide all actions, and I don’t have time to meet with Phoenix or anyone else until the crisis is resolved. Besides, Phoenix is still at Nahla, and it’s far too dangerous for him to travel.”

  “I won’t go as an opponent of the war, but as the prime minister of Turkey, who, as you said, has little power in time of war, with the National Assembly disbanded and a council of war replacing the cabinet,” Akas said. She stopped and blinked in disbelief. “You said Phoenix is still at Nahla? He’s at Nahla Air Base? Isn’t that where the fighting is, where all those men perished?” She saw Hirsiz and Cizek exchange glances. “Is there something else? What?”

  Hirsiz hesitated to tell her, then shrugged and nodded to Cizek. “It’s going to be in the news soon anyway.”

  “We bombed Nahla Air Base,” Cizek said. Akas’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “We targeted the headquarters building of the Iraqi and American forces.”

  “You what? Bombed their headquarters?” Akas shouted. “You are insane, both of you. Is Phoenix dead?”

  “No, he was not in the building at the time,” Hirsiz said.

  “Lucky for you!”

  “I did not start shooting at Iraqis and Americans until they started shooting at Turks!” Hirsiz shouted. “I did not start this war! The PKK murders innocent men, women, and children, and no one says a word to us. Well, they will talk to us now, won’t they? They will scream and complain and threaten me! I don’t care! I am not going to stop until Iraq stops harboring the PKK and promises to help eradicate them. Maybe with a few dead Americans in Iraq by our hands, they will talk to us about destroying the PKK.”

  Akas looked at Hirsiz as if studying an oil painting or an animal in the zoo, trying to find some hidden understanding or meaning in what she saw. All she could discern was hatred. He didn’t even look back at her. “How many Americans were killed in the base, Minister?”

  “Twenty or twenty-five, I don’t remember; about a hundred injured,” Cizek replied.

  “My God…”

  “Ays¸e, maybe it is a good idea for you to meet with Phoenix and talk with Gardner,” Cizek said. Hirsiz turned, his eyes wide with surprise and his jaw set in anger. Cizek held up a hand. “Kurzat, I’m afraid the Americans will retaliate—maybe not militarily, not right away, but with every other means at their disposal. If we don’t start negotiating with them, they’re more likely to hit back. Call a cease-fire, have our forces hold in position, and let Ays¸e go to Baghdad. Meanwhile we’ll resupply our forces, bring back our wounded and dead, and start collecting intelligence on the whereabouts of the PKK and their supporters. We have to be sure we don’t lose support from our allies, but we don’t have to give up everything we’ve gained.”

  Hirsiz’s expression was a mixture of rage and confusion, and his head snapped back at his two advisers as if it were out of control. “End? End now? Are we any closer to destroying the PKK than we were five thousand lives ago? If we don’t follow through with this, the five thousand soldiers who have lost their lives will have died for nothing.”

  “I think we have shown the world our crisis, Kurzat,” Akas said. “You have also shown the world, and especially the PKK and their Kurdish supporters, that Turkey can and will lash out to protect its people and interests. But if you let the situation spin out of control, the world will simply think you’re insane. You don’t want that to happen.”

  Hirsiz studied both of his advisers. Akas could see the president looking more and more alone by the second. He returned to his desk and sat down heavily, staring through the large picture window. The sun was just coming up, and it looked like it was going to be a cold, drizzly day, Akas thought, which certainly must make Hirsiz feel even more alone.

  “All I tried to do was protect the Turkish people,” he said softly. “All I wanted to do was stop the murdering.”

  “We will, Kurzat,” Akas said. “We’ll do it together—your cabinet, the military, the Americans, and the Iraqis. We’ll get everyone involved. You don’t have to do it alone.”

  Hirsiz closed his eyes, then nodded. “Call an immediate cease-fire, Hasan,” he said. “We have the phased withdrawal plan already drawn up: execute phases one and two.”

  The minister of national defense’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Phase two?” he asked. “But, sir, that pulls troops all the way back to the border. Are you sure you want to pull back that much? I recommend we—”

  “Ays¸e, you may notify the foreign minister that we wish to meet with the Americans and Iraqis right away to negotiate international inspectors and peacekeepers to monitor the border,” Hirsiz went on. “You may also notify the speaker of the National Assembly that, pending a peaceful and successful withdrawal from Iraq, I will cancel the state of emergency and reseat the parliament.”

  Ays¸e Akas walked over to Hirsiz and hugged him. “You’ve made the right choice, Kurzat,” she said. “I’ll get to work right away.” She gave Cizek a smile and hurried out of the president’s office.

  Hirsiz stood by his desk and looked out the window for a long moment; then he turned and was surprised to see his minister of national defense still in his office. “Hasan?”

  “What are you doing, Kurzat?” Cizek asked. “A cease-fire: fine.

  That will give us time to rearm, reinforce, and regroup. But a pullback all the way to the border, before we’ve had a chance to set up a buffer zone and eradicate the PKK?”

  “I’m tired, Hasan,” Hirsiz said wearily. “We’ve lost too many men…”

  “The soldiers died defending their country, Mr. President!” Cizek said. “If you pull back before the operation is finished, they will have died for nothing! You said so yourself!”

  “We will have other opportunities, Hasan. We have the world’s attention now. They’ll know we’re serious when it comes to dealing with the PKK. Now give the orders.”

  Cizek appeared as if he was going to continue to argue, but instead gave a curt nod and walked out.

  ALLIED AIR BASE NAHLA, IRAQ

  A SHORT TIME LATER

  “I suppose it could’ve been a lot worse for us,” Colonel Jack Wilhelm said. He was once again standing in their makeshift morgue in the large aircraft hangar, overseeing the preparation of the remains of the soldiers killed in action the night before. “Twenty-one soldiers killed in the Triple-C, including my ops officer, plus another thirty-two in action against the Turks, along with over two hundred injured, two dozen critical.” He turned to Patrick McLanahan. “Sorry about Martinez, General. I heard he died a little while ago.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Your guys and your gadgets did great, General. You really came through.”

  “Not for our client, unfortunately,” Patrick said. “The Iraqis lost over two hundred and fifty.”

  “But Jaffar and his men fought like wildcats,” Wilhelm said. “I always thought the guy was all bluff and bluster. He turned out to be a good field commander and a hard charger.” His radio beeped, and he listened in his earpiece, responded, and signed off. “The Turkish prime minister has announced a cease-fire and said that Turkish troops are pulling back to the border,” he said. “It looks like it’s over. What in hell were the Turks thinking? Why did they start this?”

  “Frustration, anger, vengeance: dozens of reasons,” Patrick said. “Turkey is one of those countries that just doesn’t get any respect. They’re not European, not Asian, not the Caucasus, not Middle Eastern; they’re Muslim but secular. They control major land and sea routes, have one of the largest economies and armies in the world, powerful enough to have a seat on the United Nations Security Council, but they still aren’t allowed into the European Union and they’re treated like the red-haired stepchild in NATO. I think I’d be frustrated, too.”

  “They may deserve respect, but they also deserve to get their butts kicked,” Wilhelm said. “So, I assume your contract is over…or is it? Maybe the Iraqis need you more than ev
er now?”

  “We’ll stay for now,” Patrick said. “I’ll recommend we monitor the Turkish cease-fire and pullback, and we’ll probably be around awhile longer until the Iraqis get their own surveillance force built up. They have a small fleet of Cessna Caravans that have been modified for ground surveillance and communications relay, and there’s talk of them leasing some UAVs.”

  “So you may be out of a job soon?”

  “I think so.” Patrick took a deep breath, one so deep that Wilhelm noticed. “This is a good job and a good bunch of guys and girls, but I’ve been away from home too long.”

  “To tell you the truth, it felt good to get out of the Tank and lead a bunch of troops into battle again,” Wilhelm said. “I’ve been watching my guys do it on video screens and computer monitors for far too long.” He gave McLanahan a slight smile. “But it is a young man’s game, right, General?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Patrick nodded to the tables of body bags once again lined up in the hangar. “But I’ve been around this too long.”

  “You flyboys see war completely different from the soldiers on the ground,” Wilhelm said. “To you, combat is computers and satellites and UAVs.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I know you’ve done a lot and seen a lot, General, but this is different,” Wilhelm went on. “You manage systems and sensors and machines. We manage fighting men. I don’t see dead men and women here, General—I see soldiers that put on a uniform, picked up a rifle, followed me, and who fell in battle. I’m not sad for them. I’m sad for their families and loved ones, but I’m proud of them.”

  THE PINK PALACE, ÇANCAYA, ANKARA, REPUBLIC OF TURKEY

  THAT EVENING

  The phone on the president’s desk rang. “Uh…Mr. President, Minister Cizek and General Guzlev to see you,” the president’s aide stammered.

  President Kurzat Hirsiz looked at his watch, then at the calendar on his computer. “Did we have a meeting scheduled, Nazim?”

  “No, sir. They…they say it’s urgent. Very urgent.”

  Hirsiz sighed. “Very well. Tell my wife I’ll be a little late.” He started to straighten up the papers on his desk, prioritizing the next day’s activities, when he heard the door to his office open. “Come on in, gentlemen,” he said distractedly as he worked, “but can we make this quick? I promised my wife I’d—”

  When he looked up, he saw Minister of National Defense Hasan Cizek and military chief of staff General Abdullah Guzlev standing in the middle of the office, waiting patiently for him—and both men were dressed in green camouflage battle-dress uniforms and glossy paratrooper boots, and both wore American-made M1911 .45-caliber sidearms in polished black leather holsters.

  “What in hell is going on here?” Hirsiz asked incredulously. “Why are you in a military uniform, Hasan, and why are you carrying weapons in the Pink Palace?”

  “Good evening, Kurzat,” Cizek said. He motioned over his right shoulder, and several members of the Presidential Guard rushed in, with Hirsiz’s outer office secretary bound in plastic handcuffs. The guards grabbed Hirsiz and bound his wrists in plastic handcuffs as well.

  “What in hell is this?” Hirsiz shouted. “What are you doing? I am the president of the Republic of Turkey!”

  “You are no longer president of Turkey, Kurzat,” Cizek said. “I met with General Guzlev, the chiefs of staff, and the Ministry of the Interior, and we have decided that you are not competent to give orders anymore. You said so yourself, Kurzat: you’re tired. Well, your weariness is a danger to the brave men and women in the field who are risking their lives on the president’s word. We feel you cannot be trusted to give any more orders under a state of emergency. Prime Minister Akas, of course, is in no better shape. So we have decided to take over for you.”

  “What? What are you saying? What in hell are you doing?”

  “You know what’s happening here, Hirsiz,” Cizek said. “The only question is, what will you do? Will you play the befuddled and embattled president, or will you take responsibility for your failures and do the responsible thing?”

  “What on earth are you talking about? You…you are going to stage a coup d’état?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Cizek said. “Under a state of emergency, you can appoint anyone to be commander in chief of the armed forces. You appoint me and get some well-deserved rest for a few years until you are well enough to resume your duties; I rescind the order for the stage two pullback, and we consolidate our gains in Iraq.”

  “This is insanity! I will not comply! I will never relinquish my office! I am the president of Turkey! I was elected by the Grand National Assembly…!”

  “You swore an oath to protect the people of Turkey, but instead you stand by and do nothing but moan and drool while thousands of soldiers are killed by the Iraqis and Americans,” Cizek shouted. “I will stand for it no longer. The only proper response is a military one, not a political one, and so the army must be free to end this crisis. You are afraid to unleash the army and the Jandarma: I am not. Which will it be, Mr. President? Take your orders from me, and you and your family will be allowed to stay in a very comfortable residence in Tarsus or maybe even Dipkarpaz, under very careful security and seclusion—”

  “As your puppet?”

  “As president of the republic, Hirsiz, taking sound and urgent advice from your military advisers to end the attacks against our country,” Cizek said. “If you do not agree to this, you will suffer a terrible heart attack, and we will remove you and your family from Ankara forever.”

  “You cannot do this!” Hirsiz protested. “I have done nothing wrong! You have no authority…!”

  “I swore an oath to protect this country, Hirsiz,” Cizek shouted, “and I will not sit idly by while you erase all the gains our brave soldiers have made for this country. You leave me absolutely no choice!”

  Hirsiz hesitated again, and Guzlev pulled out his .45 and pointed it at the president. “I told you he wouldn’t do it, Hasan…!” he said.

  Hirsiz’s eyes bulged, his arms and shoulders went limp, and his knees wobbled—it was as if all of the fluids in his body left him. “No, please,” he whimpered. “I don’t want to die. Tell me what to do.”

  “Good call, Hirsiz,” Cizek threw some papers on the desk. “Sign these papers.” Hirsiz signed them without reading them or even raising his head except to find the signature line. “We will escort you to the national communications center, where you will personally address the people of the republic.” A sheaf of papers was placed in his hands. “Here is what you will say. It is important for you to address the people of Turkey as soon as possible.”

  “When can I see my wife, my family…?”

  “Business first, Hirsiz,” Cizek said. He nodded to an officer of the Presidential Guard. “Take him away.” Hirsiz mumbled something as he and his aide were led out of the office under heavy military guard.

  Guzlev holstered his .45 with an exasperated shove. “Balls, I thought I was going to have to shoot the fucking bastard after all, Cizek,” he cursed. “He’s going to look like shit on television.”

  “All the better,” Cizek said. “If he can’t or won’t do it, I’ll read it myself.” He stepped toward Guzlev. “Rescind that phase one and two withdrawal order and be prepared to march on Irbil. If one peshmerga fighter, Iraqi soldier, or American—especially those robots and Tin Man creations—pops his head out just a centimeter, I want a squadron of jets to blow them all straight to Hell.” He thought for a moment, then said, “No, I’m not going to wait for those robots and the Tin Men to come after us. I want Nahla Air Base shut down. They think they can kill a thousand Turks and just march away? I want the place leveled, do you understand me? Leveled!”

  “With pleasure, Hasan…I mean, Mr. President,” Guzlev said. “With pleasure.”

  ALLIED AIR BASE NAHLA, IRAQ

  THE NEXT MORNING

  Following the memorial service for the fallen soldiers from Second Regiment,
Patrick McLanahan, Jack Wilhelm, Jon Masters, and chief of security Kris Thompson escorted Vice President Ken Phoenix to the flight line, where a newly arrived CV-22 Osprey tilt-rotor aircraft was waiting to fly him to Bahrain.

  The vice president shook hands with Wilhelm. “You did an outstanding job out there last night, Colonel,” Phoenix said. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Wilhelm said. “I wish we hadn’t gotten sucker-punched like that, but I’m glad the Turks decided to call the cease-fire, pull back, and start negotiations. It’ll give us a chance to fly our boys home.”

  “I’ll feel better when you’re all home, safe and secure,” Phoenix said. “Thank you for leading these men and women so well.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Wilhelm said, saluting.

  Phoenix returned the salute. “I’m not in your chain of command, Colonel,” Phoenix said. “I don’t rate a salute.”

  “You stood with my troops, you took enemy fire, and you didn’t start crying, whining, ordering us around, or getting in the way,” Wilhelm said. “You earned it, sir. If I may say so, you looked very…presidential.”

  “Why, thank you, Colonel,” Phoenix said. “Coming from you, that’s high praise. Lousy politics, but high praise.”

  “Good thing I don’t do politics, sir,” Wilhelm said. “Have a good trip.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.” Phoenix turned to Patrick and shook his hand. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, Patrick,” he said, “but I think you and your team did an extraordinary job out there last night.”

  Thank you, sir,” Patrick said. “Unfortunately I still don’t think it’s over, but a cease-fire and a pullback is definitely good news.”

  “I read your plan for action against Diyarbakir,” Phoenix said. “I don’t think there’s any chance the president will approve it, especially when he learns it comes from you. But I’ll talk to him about it.”

  “We can put it into action in less than a day, and at the very least it would send a message that we’re serious.”