The Ghost of Flight 666

by Christopher Anderson

  “On false data supplied by this country,” Oetari pronounced with particular vitriol on the word country. “We’re always throwing our weight around, meddling in the affairs of others. We, the United States, always know best. It’s been the same since Rome; only the West knows the meaning of civilization. People in other parts of the world know nothing!”

  The three members of the military/intelligence community exchanged glances. They knew what they were up against—that was their job. President Oetari’s obvious bitterness over the West could be understood by his upbringing.

  The president made no secret of it. He boasted being the product of a hippie, communist, counter-culture, activist mother who fled the United States after a stint in the domestic terrorist group ‘The Motorcycle Men.’ His mother was famous for lauding the Manson murders, writing that the rich pigs got what they deserved.

  That kind of rhetoric made her a target for the “Man,” and for the rest of her life her son got a steady dose of that angry ideology. She schooled her son in Marxist, anti-capitalist ideology as well as pointing out the evils of world powers like the United States. Oetari always said that gave him a broader view of the world; a more empathetic view than the traditional colonial view; a view that had the United States looking down on all other nations as inferior.

  On the productive side, she taught him globalization, and preached that the day of the superpowers must end in a New World Order that brought equality to all nations. That was productive because it spurred a young Oetari on to make something of himself. He cultivated friendships and through his mother’s academic friends, former members of her Terrorist cell now embedded in liberal academia, he received an invitation to Harvard. The young Oetari took advantage of it.

  Backed by money, academia, a progressive generation in the media, Caucasian guilt and a gift of easy charm, Oetari translated Harvard into Harvard Law School and thence into politics. After a brief stint in the state legislature and one term in the Senate, his sponsors thrust the handsome, charismatic, articulate ideologue upon the scene as the answer to the stodgy, entrenched political stalemate that was Washington.

  He took the political world by storm and even middle of the road conservatives—the American breadbasket—welcomed the change with curiosity and really some relief that the old dogmas were getting tossed out.

  Yet in politics as in love some things never change.

  Now the people against the “Man” were in power; they were the “Man.” Oetari made it very clear he didn’t want to play the same games. He wanted to do things his way and only his way. That made moments like these, rare though they were, decidedly uncomfortable for everyone. Oetari absolutely hated to be forced to do things he didn’t like.

  “The Middle East should be left alone,” he grumbled. “We should never have gone into Iraq.”

  “I agree with you Mr. President.” Mertzl replied calmly.

  Oetari’s expression of surprise demanded an answer.

  “I’m a military man Mr. President. I think in a strategic sense,” Mertzl explained. “The overthrow of Saddam Hussein was strategically a mistake and put the Middle East into turmoil. While he was in power Iraq was a check on Iranian expansion as well as theological terrorist groups like Al Qaeda and ISIS; all of which are far more dangerous that any Iraqi adventures.”

  “So you would have left Kuwait in the hands of Saddam?” Ms. Carrabolla, Oetari’s National Security Agency advisor said, opening her mouth for the first time. She was out of her league with these men and she knew it. As the president’s former campaign advisor and for a time his Secretary to the United Nations, Carrabolla saw the world through the eyes of an ideologue. She was completely ignorant of the real world, and willing to say anything, true or not, to further the Administration.

  Carrabolla was responsible for throwing the military and Intelligence community under the bus on more than one occasion—even as the president had—and thus the military men viewed her with suspicion and contempt. She returned the favor.

  Mertzl laughed. “Kuwait had no value strategically, it was purely an Arab argument. Using the president’s own logic, it was none of our business, why interfere?” When Carrabolla was caught off guard by the remark, searching for a stinging response, he added, “Besides, why would a civilized nation support Kuwait, a country that is considering legalizing the enslavement of women; particularly Western women just like you, Ms. Carrabolla?”

  She gazed at the general with shock, astounded that this military dinosaur so thoroughly and efficiently trumped her in rhetoric.

  The president actually chuckled at the pointed criticism, sitting down at his desk. He sighed and spread his hands wide. “Justified or not, the Muslim world reacts emotionally to events. I’ll be the first to admit they are not driven by logic or debate; you simply cannot reason some subjects in an open forum without risking violence. That is especially true if you are crossing the imams; I remember that all too well.

  “That being said, the more we interfere—rightly or wrongly—the more we stir the hornet’s nest of jihad. These people want their caliphate. Who are we to stand in their way?”

  “That’s true Mr. President, and I think the American people would go along with you but for the brutality of ISIS,” Carrabolla said, trying to regain her standing amongst the national security team. “We need to act but not in a heavy handed manner which involve us in another protracted war like Vietnam.”

  Her point was made, but to her surprise, Mertzl nodded and said, “Ms. Carrabolla is right Mr. President.”

  “You agree with her?” the president said mockingly, amused that the general should side with someone he so obviously disliked.

  “Yes, we risk the same results as Vietnam if we’re not careful; no one wants to see that.”

  “So you admit that Vietnam was a mistake,” the president exclaimed. “Wonder of wonders, I should declare a national holiday!”

  “Any time you fight a war not to win it’s a mistake,” the general said firmly. “But to gain peace in the region and then pull out lock, stock and barrel as we did in Vietnam is a mistake. Shortly after we left the North Vietnamese communists slaughtered two million of their fellow Vietnamese in cold blood. We watched and did nothing. The same thing is now happening in Iraq; it is the byproduct of leaving the world to terrorists and communists.”

  Oetari was beside himself, but Carrabolla interjected herself into the sensitive discussion. “We are not abandoning Iraq. The president approved this Cobra operation. We are effectively striking the senior leadership of ISIS just as we did during the surge in Afghanistan and Iraq.”

  “I agree, we still have time to correct the situation, but we need to be more aggressive,” the general advised. “We need to expand the Cobra operations to all aspects of the ISIS leadership. We also need to begin sabotaging their infrastructure, cutting their flow of money.”

  “Anything else?” Carrabolla asked coarsely. “Can you be specific or is your only answer to carpet bomb everything and everybody.”

  Director Gann stepped in, telling the president, “There is a surgical method of degrading and eventually destroying ISIS that does not involve carpet bombing, but we have to be committed to it.”

  “I’m listening,” Oetari said with icy reserve.

  “For example, ISIS is starting a campaign of transforming significant buildings into visual confirmation of their power and control, painting them black and designating them as ISIS government buildings. That works both ways. We should target every single one of those buildings and send a laser guided two-thousand pound bomb down their chimneys. That would humiliate ISIS in front of the local population; they’re helpless against air power.”

  Oetari nodded gravely, saying, “I don’t really have a problem with that. The visual might be effective on the evening news. That might slow ISIS recruitment here.” He glanced up at FBI Director MacCloud. “Director, you’ve been unusually silent. Do you have any suggestions on the Homefront?”


  “We have a list of the mosques, madrassas and organizations within the United States that have, may have, or may someday provide support for ISIS and or Al Qaeda. Every single one of those institutions should have their assets frozen immediately. The FBI should raid them. I guarantee our suspicions are nowhere near as bad as the truth.”

  The president looked stunned. He had agreed to a single Special Forces operation, but that only made the military hunger for more. He had visions of a full scale war on his hands. Oetari the Nobel Peace Prize winner, the president who ended wars was on the verge of starting his own complete with a domestic crack down not seen since World War II.

  “This is an all-out war on Islam.”

  “No sir, that’s what we’re trying to prevent,” MacCloud said firmly. “However, getting rid of terminology, ignoring terrorist acts as “workplace violence,” honor killings as “domestic violence” and allowing madrassas to teach kindergarteners that Jews are “pigs” and Christians are “dogs” does not stop jihadists. Putting them under surveillance, cutting their funding and forcing them to live by our laws not only stops the jihadists, it allows the majority of peace loving Muslims to live free of fear, to pursue the American dream. Isn’t that what we want?”

  “If we allow the peaceful Muslim population to rise from under the thumb of the radicals we defeat them without firing a shot,” Gann added. “The last thing the jihadists want is Muslims in America who are free from fear and thriving.”

  “If they can’t coerce their fellow Muslims, if they lack funding or propaganda their recruitment it will dry up.”

  “We can keep the military operations overseas, but they need to be swift and devastating! Dead jihadists rotting in the desert isn’t much of a recruiting tool either,” General Mertzl told the president. “Defeating them decisively will stop the flow of foreign fighters to Iraq and Syria.”

  MacCloud stepped forward and emphasized his point. “We don’t have to make this noisy. It doesn’t have to be on the evening news. When a hundred of the worst mosques are raided, and we know who they are Mr. President, they’ll get the message. When CAIR has its assets frozen because of their relationship with the Muslim Brotherhood then all other Muslim organizations will take notice. Take out the big offenders and the small operators will actively discourage their membership from recruitment and covert aid to the terrorists.”

  “We need to nip this in the bud Mr. President,” Mertzl insisted. “We missed out chance when ISIS moved out of Syria. We may not get another chance to crush them without a full scale involvement. The longer we wait the more this will cost in blood and treasure!”

  “You want another surge! There is nothing that corroborates that theory,” Carrabolla snapped. “The president is right. We have rocked the boat, but that’s enough. ISIS will not be defeated by yet another surge.”

  Oetari looked at military and intelligence men, and said, “I agree with Ms. Carrabolla. It seems like that’s what you’re calling for gentlemen—another surge. The previous war didn’t work; what makes you think another one will?”

  “Sir, Iraq was at peace before we pulled out. It was stable.”

  “There was no reason to stay,” Oetari said.

  “Sir, the point I made a year ago is still true today,” Mertzl reminded the president. “We left a force in Germany after World War II not simply to prevent the Germans from falling back into their evil ways but to preserve Germany from Russian domination. The same was true with Japan and Korea where we still have troops today.”

  “At great cost,” Oetari reminded the general.

  “Yes sir, it would have been nice if we hadn’t had to leave troops at all, but look at the price we paid in Vietnam when we pulled out: two million Vietnamese slaughtered, our prestige diminished, our soldiers lost in vain. Mr. President we can’t let that happen again.”

  “But who is to say this will be a success?”

  Director Gann of the CIA said firmly, “Mr. President, during the surge in Iraq Al Qaeda admitted defeat. They broadcast to the Muslim world: “We are defeated here, do not send any more fighters!” We also have significant statistics showing the numbers and effectiveness of the IED campaign decreasing in proportion to our Cobra operations against Al Qaeda. The constant reminder of their leaders being assassinated definitely hurt the morale and effectiveness of the Al Qaeda fighters.”

  Oetari turned to the FBI. The director shrugged, and said, “Our data suggests the same thing. Recruitment became much more difficult when the surge was decimating the terrorist fighting force. However, as of late, as we have relieved the pressure, the home grown jihadist recruiters parlay that as victory, as America retreating, as weakness, and that has led to a spike in jihadist recruitment as well as ‘lone wolf’ terrorist operations like the Boston Marathon bombing and Major Hassan’s terrorist attack at Fort Hood.”

  “That was a situation involving workplace violence, not terrorism,” Carrabolla interjected.

  Director MacCloud stroked his mustache with caustic deliberation, allowing the tone of his voice to accentuate his derision. He continued, “Successful bombing and especially ground campaigns may not make us friends but they have proven remarkably effective at stopping the flow of recruits. The equation is simple: young men will not sign up for a lost cause! We’ve created a problem by relieving the pressure before the threat was annihilated.”

  “You’re talking about another ground campaign,” Oetari protested. “I ended this war. I will not begin another.”

  “We may have ended our part of the war but the enemy has a say in whether the war’s over, Mr. President,” General Mertzl said gruffly. “When one side quits while the other side is still fighting that generally means the quitter has lost the war.”

  “I will not commit boots on the ground in Iraq!” Oetari said harshly. “The Iraqi’s and the Syrians will have to solve this themselves.”

  “Does that mean we leave the Christians and the Shia to be slaughtered?”

  “These are isolated incidents,” President Oetari shot back. “That behavior is grievance driven; it is not a central tenet of Islam, even of Al Qaeda and its offshoots.”

  Director Gann stated brutally, “The matter is summed up for every person alive: Either submit, or live under the suzerainty of Islam, or die. Does Islam force people by the power of the sword to submit to its authority—yes!”

  “Where did you come up with that?” the president demanded.

  “It’s a direct quote from Osama bin Laden,” he replied tersely.

  “You simply do not understand these people,” Oetari insisted. “Islam is a religion of peace and it is you and all the West that want to see it as a religion of war.”

  Oetari went behind his desk and sat down. The expression on his face was thoughtful. He said aloud, though as if to himself, “These people are not the people I grew up with. Their fury for past grievances has pushed them to this; however, that is not an excuse for this barbarity, this perversion of Islam—it’s not even Islam.”

  The president looked up suddenly, feeling the weight of the military men’s eyes. He cautioned them, “Don’t remind me of the actions of Muhammad! That was the seventh century; it was a completely different time! We need to deal in the here and now.”

  “Then what are your orders Mr. President?” General Mertzl said, waiting patiently.

  “We cannot put boots on the ground—period,” Oetari replied emphatically. “However, we will respond. I want a limited air campaign, enough to degrade ISIS capabilities both militarily and economically. As distasteful as it is, I see no other alternative than to continue with your Cobra missions.

  “As far as the Homefront is concerned, the FBI needs to root out the radicalized elements recruiting our young men to Syria to fight with the jihadists but I do not want mosques raided, is that understood? Go after individual recruiters but leave places of worship alone.”

  He looked directly at General Mertzl. “I’d like the Air Force’s recommendati
ons for targets by this afternoon. Ms. Carrabolla and her NSA staff will look them over and approve the target list and numbers.”

  “The target lists and air campaign plans are already drawn up Mr. President. The staff can brief you on specifics at any time,” General Mertzl replied. “However, am I to understand that Ms. Carrabolla is going to have the deciding factor on the actual targets to be hit? With all due respects, Mr. President, she has no military experience whatsoever.”

  “She has political experience and she has restraint; something the military does not have,” Oetari replied coldly. “The meeting is over. You have your instructions.”

  The men and woman headed toward the door just as White House Chief of Staff Jeffries came in. The last thing they heard from the Oval Office was her updating the president’s itinerary.

  “Here is the speech you need to give at 1:50 pm this afternoon; it’s expressing your heartfelt condolences to the family of the beheaded journalist. This is important, the press feels empathy for the family; this is one of their own. You need to be both angry and sympathetic.”

  “All right,” he said in a distracted sort of way. “At least it’s short.”

  “It has to be, you have a 2:00 pm tee time, so you’re giving the address in casuals with the presidential blazer.”

  “Okay,” he grimaced, then his eye brightened. “Has Freddy called? They should be done with the meeting.”

  “Not yet sir.”

  “Put the call through even if I’m on the golf course—hold everything else—this is important.”

  The president turned and left hurriedly.

  Mertzl, Gann and MacCloud glanced at each other with concerned surprise, but then all three men automatically looked at the younger Carrabolla. She was the president’s man, so to speak. Their accusatory glances asked her silently to justify the president’s actions. She blushed and turned down the hall away from them. It was the opposite way she intended to go, but Carrabolla couldn’t answer them, and they knew it.