Fatal Conceit (9 page)

However, Karp and Jaxon both were blindsided when the umbrella national security agency made a quick deal to extradite Al-Sistani to Saudi Arabia to stand trial for the murder of the Saudi prince he'd worked for and murdered in the stock exchange. The trial had been a farce. Al-Sistani was a hero in the Muslim world for his attempt to destroy the United States, and the Saudi government had caved in to public pressure and acquitted him of the charge. Instead, the public relations machine of the Kingdom had gone along with the lie that the prince had actually been killed by overzealous American law enforcement.

“As you know, Al-Sistani's release from prison was greeted with wild jubilation by Muslims worldwide,” Jaxon said. “However, he knew we'd be coming after him again and he went into hiding. We've been looking for him for years, hoping to hand him back over to you. We followed a trail of rumors from Yemen to Libya and the tribal regions of Pakistan. Then about six months ago, we started getting reports that he'd shown up in Chechnya to take over Al Qaeda
operations there. Our intel was that he is planning to create an Islamic state from which to rebuild his megalomaniacal dreams.”

“Which is why my daughter . . .”

“. . . as the team's interpreter . . .”

“. . . and Ned . . .”

“. . . and four others, all good men . . .”

“. . . were in Chechnya the same time as Huff and his trade mission.”

“That was purely coincidental, though we don't know the ‘trade mission's' real purpose—I suspect it was more than a cultural exchange. For that matter, we don't know why Lucy and her team were in Zandaq and can only assume it was connected to their mission. For security reasons, we'd had no communications with them since they crossed the border from Dagestan.”

“So did they know where Al-Sistani is hiding?”

“All we had was that he'd been seen quite a bit in the southeast region of Chechnya, near the border with Dagestan,” Jaxon replied. “But the plan was to try to make contact with a separatist guerilla leader named Lom Daudov and persuade him to help them find Al-Sistani.”

“Why him? Aren't these the guys the Russians are saying were behind the attack?”

“The Russians would blame Christ's crucifixion on Chechen separatists if they could, and to be honest, some groups associated with the independence movement have committed some pretty heinous acts,” Jaxon said. “But the movement is made up of many different groups, each with their own agendas. In truth, it's a civil war and there's been a lot of brutality on both sides. But the worst of the atrocities—a school massacre in Grozny and a theater takeover in Moscow that ended badly, both of which by the way we know our friend Nadya Malovo was involved with—seem to have been committed by the Islamic hardliners, most of them foreign fighters committed to jihad, and possibly the Russians themselves to justify occupying Chechnya.”

“So what's the difference between the extremists and this Daudov?”

“He's a devout Muslim in his spiritual practices,” Jaxon said, “but from what little we know of his politics, he and others like him—all of them Chechen—want to establish a secular democracy. Apparently, as Al Qaeda's influence has grown in Chechnya with the influx of foreign fighters, he got alarmed that the bid for independence was being co-opted by extremists trying to create an Islamic state. We don't know much about Daudov, he's sort of an enigma, but we're told that his basic philosophy is ‘Chechnya for Chechens; everybody else get the hell out!' In particular there is no love lost between him and Al Qaeda, which is suspected of having tried to assassinate him in the past. Which brings us to why we wanted to meet with him and see what he might ask in exchange for helping us bring Al-Sistani back to the States for trial.”

“But the president said at the debate that Al Qaeda doesn't exist as a viable threat anymore.”

“That's politics. Centralized leadership in Al Qaeda was always more philosophical than tactical; Al Qaeda operates as semiautonomous groups dedicated to one goal, creating a world Islamic state. As such they are alive and well, if under pressure from our attacks.”

“It all sounds like risky business to me, this mission to enlist Daudov's help,” Karp noted.

Jaxon looked down and then up again. “You're right,” he said. “It was. Very little isn't anymore, it seems.” He paused and his voice grew husky. “I wasn't going to let Lucy go on this one, but I've got a small agency and nobody else who spoke Chechen. The success of the mission would depend on being able to negotiate with this Daudov and she knew it, so she insisted. Of course, now I wish . . .”

As Jaxon's voice faltered, Karp felt sorry for his friend. Jaxon was Lucy's godfather and sure to hold himself responsible for what had happened. “I know this weighs on you. But Lucy is a strong-
willed young woman. She told me on more than one occasion how proud she was to be working for you. She said she felt she was really making a difference.”

Jaxon looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. “Thanks, Butch. I guess the best thing to do right now is hope and say our prayers.”

The moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” Karp called.

The door opened and the beehive hairdo and heavily made-up face of his receptionist, the widow Darla Milquetost, appeared. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Karp,” she said. “I knew you were here because the light was on, but I didn't know you had a guest so early. Good morning, Mr. Jaxon.”

“Good morning, Darla,” both men said at the same time. “What can I do for you?” Karp added.

“I was just going to tell you that the president is about to go on television to talk about this terrible thing in Chechnya.”

Karp looked at his watch and then sat up, grabbing the remote control from his desk and pointing it at the television across the room. “You're absolutely right. Thank you for the reminder.”

Milquetost disappeared and the television blinked on just as the president approached the lectern in the Rose Garden. “My fellow Americans,” he began, “I come to you today with both a heavy heart as well as firm resolve. As we all know by now, on what was a pleasant Saturday afternoon for most of us, a peaceful U.S. trade mission in Chechnya was overrun in the dead of night by what our friends in Russia have identified as a loosely organized group of criminals and extremists bent on preventing the normalization of the natural relationship between these two peoples. This attack was carried out quickly, without warning or provocation, and in brutal fashion, and brave Americans, there to offer the hand of peaceful cooperation, were murdered. Our Russian friends have secured the site and have launched a vigorous investigation into this terrible event. Unfortunately, at this point, we must report that there are no known survivors, including the mission's leader,
Deputy Chief of Mission David Huff, who was stationed at the U.S. embassy in Grozny.”

The president paused as he looked out over the assembled media to allow the cameras to capture the very presidential moment. “These murderers,” he continued at last, “paint themselves as peace-loving Muslims in search of independence. But do not let their rhetoric fool you, they are little more than thugs and vicious criminals who hide their deeds beneath a cloak of Chechen patriotism and use terror to bully and intimidate the majority of citizens in Chechnya who want nothing to do with them. Our friends in Russia have known the truth for many years, and suffered horrible atrocities at the hands of these cowards. Unfortunately Sunday morning in Chechnya, we learned their truth the hard way. But let me be clear, with the help of the Russian authorities, we will leave no stone unturned, no effort short of the maximum, until the perpetrators are caught and brought to justice.”

The president then opened the floor to questions from the media. Picked to begin was a talking head for one of the major networks. “Mr. President,” the man asked in his best “I'm a serious journalist” voice, “you said the attack was carried out quickly. How fast are we talking about and could our people have been saved?”

“Well, Dave, we're still sorting through the reports,” the president replied, “but our best information is that it was over from start to finish in a half hour, maybe less. We scrambled an unmanned aerial vehicle, a fully-armed drone, as soon as we had any indication of trouble, and had two fighters standing by at an airfield in Turkey. But by the time the drone arrived, our people were dead and the killers were gone. The attack occurred in the early morning hours and apparently caught our people off-guard; I'm sure they gave a good account of themselves, but they were overwhelmed in very short order. The Russians also sent a tactical assault squad—I should point out that Chechnya is a Russian state and under their authority—to help, but again, it was already too late.”

Another member of the media, the White House reporter for the
New York Times
, waved his hand in the air like a schoolboy who thinks he has the right answer. He knew he was going to be called as it had already been worked out with the president's press secretary, Rosemary Hilb, but he was excited just the same when the president pointed to him.

“Yes, Josh?”

“Is there anything to the possibility that the Iranians may have been involved?”

The president frowned as if he'd been hit by a tough question he hadn't anticipated, much less one that had been planted by Hilb. “Let me say this about that . . . we have no direct evidence that the government of Iran was involved in the attack. We do know, however, that as a matter of policy, they are a rogue nation that believes in meddling in the affairs of other countries and in terrorism as a means of achieving their political ends.”

The president had hardly reached the end of his sentence when a tall female reporter with a mane of blond hair, wearing a bright red dress that matched her lipstick, raised her hand and shouted for attention.

“Is that who I think it is?” Jaxon asked.

Karp nodded. “The inimitable Ariadne Stupenagel. But it doesn't look like the president is going to call on her.”

In fact, the president turned away from Stupenagel and pointed to a young woman who wrote a column for a lightweight online news agency. “It's Diane, right?” he asked with his famously charming smile.

The reporter blushed at the familiarity and seemed to forget her question for a moment before remembering. “Do we have any specific idea of who these killers might be?” she asked coquettishly.

“Well, Diane, that's a good question,” he said with another smile. “Again, the information is frustratingly limited, but one name has emerged as a ‘person of interest.' Lom Daudov. He's
one of these extremists masquerading as a patriot that I talked about before. Our understanding is that he was seen in the area that day. He is already wanted by the Russians, and the legitimate, duly elected government of Chechnya, for previous violent, criminal acts. As an American, I believe that this man has the right to be considered innocent until proven guilty, but he's certainly a suspect and we're very interested in his quick apprehension.”

At the mention of Daudov, Karp had looked at Jaxon, who furrowed his brow but said nothing.

The president held up his hand as if he was going to end the press conference.

“MR. PRESIDENT! Is it possible that the attackers were not separatists but foreign fighters linked to Al Qaeda in Chechnya?” It was Stupenagel again, this time shouting so loud into the television camera microphones that the president couldn't ignore her without its being too obvious.

The president scowled. “We have received no reports of any kind, that I am aware of, suggesting that Al Qaeda played any part in this attack. As I stated clearly during the debate more than a week ago, Al Qaeda as a viable terrorist organization doesn't exist anymore. At my direction, we chopped the head off the snake, and without the head, the body dies. I think sometimes, some people—or political parties—like to trot Al Qaeda out as some sort of bogeyman to frighten the American people. But the days of that terrorist organization being a real threat came to an end after I came into office. I understand there are always rumors—their genesis, well, I think we all know who has something to gain by trying to discredit this administration—but just because Chechnya is predominantly Muslim, and these killers may in fact be Muslim, at least in name, that doesn't make them Al Qaeda. And perhaps, Ms. Stupenagel, we should be sure of our facts before repeating them in a public forum.”

The brash reporter ignored the public scolding. “Mr. President, would you care to comment on reports that the Russians, and
their puppet government in Chechnya, are using this as a pretext to crack down on a popular uprising?”

“I don't think it's appropriate for me to comment on how the Russians, and the legitimate government of Chechnya, go about the business of apprehending criminals,” the president snapped. “We've had no credible reports of any human rights violations, and as I think even you, Ms. Stupenagel, would have to agree, this administration has repeatedly gone to bat for oppressed people all over this world. Now, thank you all for coming. I believe Ms. Rosemary Hilb will take a few more questions.”

With that the president turned and left the podium. A short, fierce-looking woman with jet black hair, pale skin, a gray pantsuit, and a “don't fuck with me” look took his place. Hilb answered questions in short, clipped, safe sentences and then announced that the press conference was over like a sergeant dismissing a company of new recruits.

Karp turned off the television. “What do you think?” he said.

Jaxon looked troubled. “Something doesn't smell right,” he said. “I still have to wonder why Daudov would attack a ‘peaceful trade mission,' not to mention my team, when we were there to talk to him about getting rid of one of his enemies. If anything, he's been cultivating world public opinion in his battle with the Russians.”