At the end of the morning briefing Colonel Wassenberg marched back to his office and sat behind his desk. His anger was still at boiling point. Impertinent woman. Far too sure of herself and her clothing was appalling. Her relationship with that Muslim professor had not escaped him either; too cosy by half. A far more disciplined approach was needed for the entire base and where others had so obviously failed, he, Colonel Walter Wassenberg III, would succeed. In the light of the feedback from the Surgeon General’s flunky he would have to tread warily, but at the first opportunity he would find a way to get rid of both of them.
CHAPTER 21
THE OVAL OFFICE, THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC
‘T here’s something else you might like to think about, Mr President,’ Dan Esposito said, after the Vice President and the Secretary of Defense had left. ‘Your second term still has a while to run, and you will have left this country and the world an enduring legacy, but we need to give some consideration as to who you’re going to support to succeed you in this office. If the Democrats run someone like Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama, we’re going to need a candidate who is tough and uncompromising on the war on terror, someone who represents the values of the American people.’
‘Do you have anyone in mind?’
Dan Esposito nodded. He’d already quietly canvassed the idea on the Hill and when he’d put forward Richard Halliwell’s name the response from the Republican heavyweights, already nervous over the war in Iraq, had been overwhelmingly positive. Esposito’s research had revealed that Richard Halliwell had started his career working in CDC’s Level 4 labs as a biochemist. The President’s advisor had noted that it hadn’t been long before Halliwell had been attracted by the bigger bucks on offer in private enterprise. Paralleling the staggering rise of Enron, in a little over three decades, Halliwell had taken a medium-sized biotech and turned it into the world’s biggest pharmaceutical. Halliwell had a reputation on Wall Street for being a ruthless, successful and mega-wealthy businessman and ‘ruthless’ was something Esposito understood and could work with. The Halliwell conglomerate was more than a match for GlaxoSmithKline and the rest of Big Pharma combined, and Halliwell shares had just reached a new high of $141 on the New York Stock Exchange.
There was something else that attracted the politically astute Esposito, who was forever looking for an advantage over the Democrats. Esposito had discovered that Halliwell was a prominent Southern Baptist and a member of one of the largest churches in the country; the Buffett Evangelical Center for Christ could seat 15,000 worshippers. America was overwhelmingly a Christian country and Esposito’s latest research indicated that over 50 per cent of the population were Protestant, 25 per cent Catholic, and another 11 per cent described themselves as Christian without specifying a denomination. Esposito had separate plans for the Catholics, but he knew that with evangelical preachers like Jerry Buffett on side a big part of his next election campaign could be fought from the pulpit. In a country where voting wasn’t compulsory, voter apathy was an ever-present danger but if the evangelical right were convinced a candidate was one of them, several thousand preachers could be brought into play. The growing power of the Christian Right could be harnessed to get over 30 million evangelicals, who were in church on a Sunday, down to the polling booth the following Tuesday.
‘Richard Halliwell,’ Esposito replied, endorsing his candidate without hesitation. ‘I know he would have a lot of support on the Hill, and he would also have the support of Jerry Buffett and a lot of the Reverend Buffett’s colleagues,’ he added, appealing to the President’s relationship with his spiritual advisor. ‘It will be important for your place in history, Mr President, for the country to continue to support the Republican ideals that you’ve set in place.’
‘What about Bolton?’ the President asked, more than well aware of his deputy’s ambitions.
‘He’s a good Vice President,’ Esposito replied carefully, ‘but he’s made a lot of enemies over the years, and frankly, Mr President, he’s carrying too much baggage for an election campaign. The Democrats would re-raise his share portfolio and we’d spend the whole campaign defending him.’ Esposito did not go so far as to air his intelligence from his contacts in Inland Revenue. Should that ever surface the President needed to be in a position to employ the time-honoured defence of ‘I wasn’t told’.
The President looked thoughtful. Esposito was right. Although he wasn’t eligible to run again it would be important that his legacy continued.
‘Halliwell’s smarter than the Vice President and he’s clean,’ Esposito said, sensing he had won the President’s support. ‘For now we’ll need to keep this under wraps. Halliwell’s a pretty good golfer, so I suggest you and I have a quiet round with him and that way any suggestion that we met for other than social reasons will be deniable.’
President Harrison grinned. ‘He’s good,’ he said, ‘but not that good. I whipped his ass the last time we played.’ There was nothing the President liked better than a game of golf. It not only got him away from the war on terror and any one of a dozen other crises that seemed to constantly swirl around the White House, but it was a much more likeable form of combat. On the golf course you could see your enemy and assess his every move.
Dan Esposito allowed himself a smile. He hated golf with a passion but it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Whenever Esposito wanted to get the President’s complete attention on something, he could often achieve far more over eighteen holes than he could in the Oval Office. It was a small price to pay. Richard Halliwell was a man after his own heart, he mused. Yes, ruthless and uncompromising, but the war on terror and a strategy to deal with the raging Chinese required nothing less.
For once Esposito’s research lacked its usual depth and thoroughness. He’d been blinded by Halliwell’s business acumen and membership of the big Southern Baptist Church. If Dan Esposito had carried out his research into Richard Halliwell with the same meticulous attention to detail that he gave the poll data that flooded into his office each week, he might have discovered that Richard Halliwell’s reputation on Wall Street, like his membership of the Buffett Evangelical Center for Christ, was not all it seemed.
CHAPTER 22
DELTA AIRLINES FLIGHT 1874, WASHINGTON
T he Captain of the direct service from Atlanta, Georgia to Reagan Airport beside the Potomac River in Washington DC, listened as the direction from the Control Tower crackled in his headset.
‘Delta Flight 1874 you are cleared to descend to 10,000 feet. On leaving level 190, switch to primary approach on 119 decimal 85.’
‘Descending to 10,000 feet. Thank you and have a good day.’ It was a fine, clear morning and the dome of the Capitol building was faintly visible in the distance. A great day for flying, the Captain thought, as he prepared to ease back the twin throttles on the Boeing 737-800 and his co-pilot reached for the radio console to change frequencies.
In the cabin behind them the purser took the intercom. ‘As we’ve now begun our descent into Washington, would you please ensure that your seatbelt is fastened, your tray table secured and your seat is in the upright position.’ The most powerful Christian televangelist in America, the Reverend Jerry Buffet, seated in row 1A, reluctantly obeyed the purser’s directions and pushed the armrest button that controlled his comfortable leather seat. The powerful turbofan engines quietened and the nose of the 737 dipped towards the ground.
Jerry Buffett smiled politely as he accepted the warm face towel from the young flight attendant. Of just average height, the Southern Baptist televangelist was in his early sixties but he looked ten years younger; his tanned, square-jawed face was one of the most recognisable in America. He wiped his hands and face and then turned to look at the countryside below. He had seen the broadcast by Dr Khalid Kadeer and when the President had asked him for his advice he had caught the first available plane that had a first-class seat. Jerry Buffett had no doubt that the threats from Kadeer were real, but as he would explain to the President,
the real threats facing America had very little to do with Kadeer’s explanations from a false religion and the Qu’ran. The warnings were in the Bible and the Lord continued to bring these to America’s attention. When Ariel Sharon, supported by the President, withdrew Israeli troops from the Gaza Strip, the land that had been promised to Israel, the Lord had felled Sharon with a mighty stroke for daring to divide the Promised Land. The Bible warnings were crystal clear but God’s chosen people in Israel and the United States continued to ignore them.
As the 737 banked away from a distant Chesapeake Bay, Jerry Buffett reflected on the two greatest threats he saw facing the United States, both predicted in the Bible. The coming threat from China was made clear in Revelations 9:15-16. ‘So the four angels were released, who had been held ready for the hour… to kill a third of humankind. The number of troops was 200 million.’ There was only one country in the world capable of raising such an army and Jerry Buffett knew that the CIA fact book on China indicated that the number of men of military service age in China had passed the 200 million mark in 2001.
The other threat, the one from Islam, had already appeared on September 11, and the rise of Osama bin Laden had also been predicted in the Bible over 2000 years ago, when Daniel said that a great Islamic leader would appear. A ‘Mahdi’ who would galvanise Islam against the West. ‘And there shall be a time of trouble as there never was before,’ Daniel had said.
The Reverend Jerry Buffett had warned his massive congregation more than once about the threat from the evil religion of Islam and his mind turned to Matthew’s description of Christ’s time on the Mount of Olives and Christ’s prophecy to his disciples of the world’s coming destruction. ‘What will be the sign of your coming again, and the end of the age?’ the disciples had asked, and Jesus had answered, ‘You will hear of wars and nation will rise against nation.’ Since the end of the Second World War, the number of wars around the globe had increased dramatically, Jerry Buffett mused. Christ had also said there would be famines, storms and earthquakes just before His coming. Those too had increased dramatically. The tsunami in the Indian Ocean had killed tens of thousands, as had the devastating earthquake in Kashmir. And now, like the Jews of ancient Jerusalem, the people of the United States had been warned again. The Apostle Paul had forecast as much in his second letter to Timothy. ‘But know this,’ he had said, ‘that in the last days, perilous times will come: for men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money. Lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God.’ Buffet reflected that more than most cities in the United States, New Orleans epitomised man’s increasing lust for drugs, sex and alcohol, and other pleasures of the flesh. God had sent Hurricane Katrina as another warning against loose living.
As the 737 settled on its final approach into Washington’s Ronald Reagan Airport, Reverend Buffett knew that God was using him to deliver a message to the President. God was calling on the President to act now and act fast to save the chosen people of America. The end times were frighteningly close.
CHAPTER 23
UNITED STATES ARMY MEDICAL RESEARCH INSTITUTE FOR INFECTIOUS
DISEASES, FORT DETRICK, MARYLAND
C aptain Donald Crawshaw waited until he saw Colonel Wassenberg drive into the car park at 0555 hours. Crawshaw could set his watch by it and he had quickly learned to be in the office before the Colonel arrived, even if it did mean getting up at 0330 hours. The Colonel had pulled some strings in the Pentagon and somehow managed to have USAMRIID’s normal staff car replaced with a camouflaged four-wheel drive Marine Corps Humvee, complete with machine gun mounts and a massive fuel consumption of less than 4 miles per gallon. ‘In this war on terror, you have to be ready, Crawshaw. You never know when these little Muslim bastards will appear next!’ the Colonel had reminded him.
‘Yessir! USAMRIID Sir!’ Captain Crawshaw had replied. It wasn’t always easy but Crawshaw had learned to think before speaking and, if he did venture a comment, he tried to make sure it was one that the Colonel would agree with. He ducked through the Colonel’s sandbagged doorway to check that he’d turned the coffee percolator on – ‘I take my coffee heavy-duty, boy, black and strong’ – and that the morning papers were neatly folded and laid out in a fan on the right-hand side of the Colonel’s desk; The New York Times on the left, overlaying The Washington Post, overlaying USA Today. Satisfied, he checked his running uniform in the Colonel’s mirror. His white T-shirt was starched as were the creases on his camouflage trousers and his boots gleamed in the half-light of the early morning. Timing his exit Captain Crawshaw jogged out of the main entrance doors as the Colonel switched off the huge V8 diesel.
‘Morning Sir! USAMRIID Sir!’ Crawshaw shouted as he saluted on the run.
‘No pain, no gain, Crawshaw!’ Colonel Wassenberg yelled, feeling back in control for once, towering over the world in his Humvee.
‘Yessir! USAMRIID Sir!’
Colonel Wassenberg strode in through the main entrance and down the corridor that led to his office. He checked that his combat gear was ready on the hooks just inside the sandbagged door and placed his black briefcase with its heavy brass locks on the rack he’d had made for it. He poured coffee into his mug embossed with the Marine Corps seal and then eased himself into his large leather chair behind his sandbagged desk; Colonel Wassenberg always took great care not to disturb the creases in his uniform. He picked up the New York Times; the news from Iraq dominated the front page. October had been the worst month for the US forces since the invasion over three years before, with the bodies of over a hundred young men and women shipped back to the States in body bags, bringing the total close to the 3000 mark. Nearly 300 Coalition soldiers had been maimed and wounded, bringing that total to well over 20,000. Another 1200 Iraqi civilians had been killed at an average of forty a day as the country sank deeper into civil war and the Shia and Sunni death squads took control of Baghdad and the provinces. If only he could get back into a real combat command, he thought wistfully, he would turn this war around. Kick ass and bring in the B-52s and flatten the goddamn place. By the time he’d finished with them there wouldn’t be a Muslim terrorist or a stinking camel train within a hundred miles of the borders.
Colonel Wassenberg had always wanted to follow in the footsteps of his hero, General Patton, and Wassenberg imagined the headlines as he pictured himself as General Walter C. Wassenberg III, a four star general in command of the entire operation. ‘General Wassenberg Declares Victory in Iraq – Mission Accomplished’ would be splashed over the front pages of newspapers around the world. He could see the headlines that would follow, almost on a daily basis. ‘General Wassenberg Establishes Military Government In Iraq – Democracy For Iraqis On Track’, ‘Wassenberg Brings Oil Supplies Back On Line – SUV Sales Surge’, ‘Wassenberg Declares Muslim Threat Over’. He closed his eyes and saw himself in Baghdad, shaking hands with the Reverend Jerry Buffett as American democracy and the true faith of Christianity took hold in the once pagan, but now liberated country of Iraq. In a reversal of the invasion of Constantinople by the Ottoman Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror on 29 May 1453, when he converted one of the greatest Christian cathedrals in the world, Hagia Sophia, to a grand Mosque, Wassenberg would have Iraq’s mosques converted into Christian churches. He opened his eyes and, as he often did when he was alone, he raised his chin slightly and looked towards the ceiling, seeing himself at the White House with the cameras of the world’s press flashing incessantly. ‘A Grateful Nation Awards Wassenberg the Congressional Medal of Honor’; it was something he had prayed for often.
Colonel Wassenberg finished devouring the news and turned to the opinion page. A prominent headline caught his attention. The sub-editor had headlined the article ‘The Fear of Difference’ but the opinion piece was signed by Professor Imran Sayed. Wassenberg’s face reddened and he gripped the edge of his desk as he read the article. As the war on terror continues around the globe, a dangerous divide is opening between Islam and the West. We in the West are consumed by a fear of differ
ence. It is a fear that is fuelled by the media’s incessant references to men and women of Middle Eastern appearance and an insistence on describing terrorists as Muslim. Fear in the community is fuelled by prominent Christian leaders in this country and other Western countries who misinterpret the Bible as the only revelation from God, and who themselves fear that Christianity is threatened by Islam. In the United States, the Reverend Franklin Graham, the son of Billy Graham, has described Islam as a ‘very evil and wicked religion’, the Reverend Jerry Vines has described Muhammad as a ‘demon-obsessed paedophile’ and the Reverend Pat Robertson has described Muslims as ‘worse than Nazis’, prompting other influential Christian leaders like the Reverend Jerry Buffett to follow suit. This is causing anger and frustration in much of the Islamic world. One can only imagine the reaction here if an Imam were to interpret Christ’s fondness for women as devious or describe the Christian Saviour as ‘the Womanising Christ’.
Colonel Wassenberg tightened his grip on the desk. Professor Sayed’s even-handed criticism of his own faith of Islam that followed did nothing to restore the blood flow to Wassenberg’s white knuckles. On the other side of the fence, the Islamists continually misinterpret another of God’s revelations, the Qu’ran. Like their Christian counterparts many Imams claim that Islam is the only true religion, denouncing those who are not Muslims as infidels, and they ignore the Prophet’s command in the verses of the Spider Sura, to treat the ‘other people of the book – the Jews and the Christians’ well. Jihad is dangerously misinterpreted by both sides. Both sides fear differences in dress. Here in the United States and in Britain and Australia, two of our staunchest allies in this war on terror, Muslim women are criticised for covering their bodies with the veil and the hijab, the head scarf; but Christians think nothing of wearing a gold cross around their neck and brook no criticism of nuns wearing habits. The Jews would be appalled if anyone suggested banning the yarmulke or the ringlets and broad black hats of their more conservative cousins.
The Beijing conspiracy Page 9
