Full Blast. Don Pendleton

at Gardener.

      “I’ll miss our times together,” he said. “On the other hand I probably won’t have all that much too spare for daydreaming.”

      “If this goes as we planned, you won’t have time to do anything except what you’re gong back for.”

      Khalli al-Basur smiled. He picked up his coat.

      “Chase, you have offered me more than any man could hope for. My exile has been too long. This is what I have wanted but could never do with Hussein in command—a chance to return to Iraq and make my wish for a united country come true.”

      “We all want that, Khalli. Iraq has been through a long, bad time. Now we need to bring her back into the light.”

      “And accommodate ourselves at the same time?”

      “No crime there. Iraq has something the world needs.”

      “Don’t you mean, what the U.S.A. wants? And Gardener Global especially?”

      “I stand corrected. We understand each other, my friend. No pretending this is going to be easy. First priority for both of us is making the transition to full power. If we pull that off, the rest should fall into place.”

      “Then we need good luck for both of us.”

      Gardener considered the word for a moment.

      “If luck is the word, it’s something we make for ourselves. To be honest, I’ve never really depended on something as fragile as expecting fate to pass me a winning hand. Luck didn’t make me what I am. That came from knowing what I wanted and going for it. Same applies here. We both know what we want. It’s up to us to take it in both hands and beat it into submission.”

      Gardener turned as someone tapped on the door.

      “Come in.”

      The door opened and Harry Masden, the CIA pilot provided by McAdam, stepped inside.

      “We’re set, General. Plane’s warmed up. If we’re going, it should be now. Once the weather clears, we risk being spotted.”

      “I’m ready,” Basur said, picking up the small bag he was taking with him. “General, next time we meet it will be in the office of the Iraqi president.”

      “That’s the kind of talk I like to hear, Khalli.”

      They shook hands. Gardener followed them to the door and stood watching as Khalli and Masden crossed to the plane, leaning into the wind. Dust was sweeping in off the hills. Gardener checked his watch. Given the prevailing weather, the flight would take about two hours. After that, Khalli’s supporters would spirit him away to a secure place to wait for the time he would make his appearance in Baghdad.

      Gardener stayed at the door until the small plane moved along the makeshift strip. It was almost out of sight before it rose into the air, banking sharply as Madsen set it on the course that would take across the border into northern Iraq.

      Renelli appeared, his lean face shadowed as he bent to light a cigarette.

      “This really going to work, General?”

      “We’ll know soon enough, son. Hell, the only way to get things to happen is to give them a kick-start. If we get everything we want out of this, America is going to be in one hell of strong position. Our man in the Iraqi government, making the decisions, and the world’s richest oil deposits under U.S. control. If we want to stay on top, we need that oil to keep the machine running. The U.S. military machine is the biggest in the world. We keep it that way, no damn country can stand up to us.”

      Renelli smiled. “When you move into the White House are you still going to be General Gardener? Or President?”

      “Well there’s a thing I haven’t given much thought to, Rick. It’s something for me to consider on the flight home. Let’s get out of here, this damn place depresses me…”

      GARDENER’S TRAIN of thought was disturbed during the flight back to the U.S. He received a call from Ralph Justin. The senator sounded nervous.

      “Ralph, just take a breath and tell me slowly.”

      “McAdam told me to watch my back until he resolves this problem. I asked him if he’d spoken to you. He said there was no need to worry you, but I think it warrants enough to be on our guard.”

      “Fine, Ralph. Just tell me what the problem is. I can’t comment until I know that.”

      “There have been some people snooping around. Talking to my staff. Your name came into the conversation. They identified themselves as Justice Department operatives. McAdam checked them out but can’t come up with any information. It’s like they don’t exist. Chase, they showed up at my town house, too.”

      “Did you say anything?”

      “What do you take me for, Chase? Of course I didn’t say anything.”

      “Strikes me these men are just fishing. If they had anything solid, they’d have done more than just talk.”

      “Who are they? Why is there no record of them on file anywhere?”

      “Ralph, you know as well as I do there are discreet agencies in existence. But they can’t do a damn thing without proof. As long as we stand firm, they can only guess.”

      “Aren’t you concerned?”

      “My only worry is these people wasting our time. Ralph, just carry on as normal. Leave these people to me. I’ll look into it. Just remember who you are. If they bother you again, be yourself.”

      “Myself?”

      “Yes. An arrogant son of a bitch. An important man who has better things to do than to have his life invaded by these minor officials. You should be working on what you’re going to do with all that oil money coming your way.”

      Something close to normality returned to Justin’s voice. “Thank you, Chase, I’ll take your advice. I may see you when you return.” He added dryly, “That’s if I have time to spare, of course.”

      “Listen, I’m calling a meeting at the ranch. I need you there.”

      “There’s a Senate meeting tomorrow, early. It’ll break quickly because it’s Friday and the weekend is coming up. I can fly out as soon as it’s over.”

      “Good. It’ll give us time to clear the air. And while you’re at the ranch no one can bother you.”

      Gardener finished the call.

      “Trouble, General?” Renelli asked from his seat on the other side of the plane.

      “More of an irritant. Justin has been visited by agents who say they were from the Justice Department. McAdam tried to get a line on them but couldn’t find anything.”

      “Could be a cover for some covert agency. I’ll look into it when we get back.”

      “Good. I probably don’t even have to say this, Renelli, but if you locate these people and have them in your sights long enough…take them down. I don’t give a damn who they work for. If they’re checking us out, they’re not with us. They’re against us. The enemy. So we deal with them. Understood?”

      “Taken as read, General, sir.”

      “Renelli.”

      “Sir?”

      “Change of plan. Tell the pilot we’re going straight to the ranch. I’ll stay there. You can take the plane and get back to what we talked about. Look into this Justice Department shit and find Jacobi.”

      “Yes, sir.” Renelli half turned, then looked back. “We going to have problems, General?”

      “It’s how you define the word ‘problem.’ Things are happening. Whether they become problems as such depends on how we handle them in the short term. It’s all to do with strategy, Renelli.