Chapter 3 / Page 6

“The protective service fire team is being selected as we speak,” the Two Star read from his own notes. “It will be a Force Recon detachment. These men will not have any immediate family and only limited ties to extended family. Their service records have been altered to indicate training accidents, discharge, or disqualification for other reasons. Obviously, we can’t use the same excuse for everyone. In the event someone decides to look, we need a clean slate for these men.” The General looked across the table at a civilian who had just become a soldier again. He found it astounding that a reserve officer would be sent on a covert op into Indian country.

“Their weapons will be standard issue. Their clothing will be authentic to the region and all are Arabic speakers.” He paused again and looked at the nameless spook. “All, that is, except Lieutenant Stillwell here. Country infiltration and exit will be accomplished by land vehicle. Air evacuation is only a last resort.”

If anyone had bothered to look at a map, they would have realized the supporting details for this mission were bogus. The Iraqi Data Center was deep inside the southern no-fly zone in fairly rough terrain. The ground was rent with gullies gouged through soft sand and hard rocks. It was uneven and it rained very little. The wind could be fierce, raising deadly sandstorms, and the heat could leach the water out of any man.

They were heading for the edges of the Syrian Desert while Saddam lay to the north along the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. To the west lay too much desert and hostile Arab territory before arriving in Israel. To the East awaited Kuwait, but if anyone figured out what they were about, an exit back to Kuwait would vanish. Of course, the map indicated a border to the south and refuge in Saudi Arabia. Considering the prize they were after—Saddam’s total order of battle for both conventional and unconventional weapons—simple lines drawn on maps would not impede the pursuit. Besides, the great Saudi desert might do the job nicely for Saddam.

Stillwell nodded slightly. The unspoken truth here involved his capture. A weapon expert of his caliber could not fall into Saddam’s hands. He wondered who had the chore of killing him to avoid capture. If Brian were designing this mission, all four of the Force Recon Marines would be given the same order either as a group or in private. “Do I get a blindfold or a cigarette, Sir?”

The NSA chuckled, “Brian, let’s not be so glum. No one is going to get killed, and as soon as you’re back, this letter Arthur has disappears. You’ll have the personal thanks of the President and the heartfelt gratitude of the country. We find out what Saddam’s up to and fix it so it doesn’t work anymore.”