The Screaming Eagles (28 page)

America promised us friendship if we would help them. We found out that they could not be trusted. President Bush and James Baker were as treacherous to the Kurds as Saddam Hussein. The only difference was that Hussein was killing us with guns, whereas Bush was killing us because he would not supply the guns that he had faithfully promised us. We believed him to be an honorable man and someone we could trust. He was far more interested in telling the rest of the world what a brilliant success his war had been. But that is history and happened many years ago and it is irrelevant and now no longer important.

After Hathami, the Iranian President was assassinated, Iraq seeing a leaderless country, attacked them. Abdel Amir, Iraq’s President, guessed wrong. The Iranians under Musavi were far more formidable and he soon realized he was going to be defeated; however, he came up with a brilliant plan to fool you Americans into destroying Iran.

Abdel Amir recruited twelve of the finest fighting men from his Republican Guard, and five air force pilots. They were given training so that they could become kamikazes. These seventeen men trained for their mission for eight months. They were also instructed intensively how to speak Farsi. Many Iraqis speak Farsi as they have a common border with Iran. Abdel Amir called the seventeen men by the code name the Screaming Eagles.

The name was well chosen for when an eagle hunts for its prey it can climb thousands of feet into the sky. Wind drafts and thermal currents move it silently as it searches for its prey. When it sees an animal, the eagle flies away from the sun so that as it descends and nears the animal on the ground, its shadow will not startle it. The animal never sees a shadow, or hears anything, for the eagle dives at tremendous speed. The aerodynamic falling of the bird is likened to a missile. Wings and talons are tucked next to its body, head and beak extended forward, its eyes focus on its prey. As the eagle is about to hit the animal, it suddenly extends its wings, and stretches its talons forward. They are curved like a hook so that they can pierce the skin and hold the animal tightly so that it cannot slip out of its grasp. The extension of the eagle’s wings is the last thing the animal hears, but it is too late. The talons pick up the prey and jerk it up and down with lightning speed, snapping its neck.

The eagle soars upwards and continues squeezing its prey to death. That is the time the eagle lets out a long and loud scream of triumph. The eagle is a truly magnificent deadly killing machine. Unlike man, the eagle kills for food, not for pleasure.

Abdel Amir created seventeen such killing machines. The date chosen to massacre you Americans was Christmas Eve when airports would have the most passengers and least amount of security, but Iran was overrunning the Iraqi army so fast, Iraq could not hold out for more than four weeks. Nine months and eleven days ago, Abdel Amir instructed his Eagles to attack. Eleven died in the attacks. Six Eagles are still in the United States awaiting their orders.”

Hanan shook his head. “Jalal, that is one hell of a story but it’s too bizarre to be credible. Who will believe you? I agree with your assessment of Desert Storm. Iraq started sending scud missiles to bomb Tel Aviv. The Israelis were forbidden by Bush, to retaliate, relatives of mine were killed. I can agree with that part of your explanation of Bush’s betrayal, promises were made to us which also were not kept.”

“Hanan, for the past fifteen years, I have commanded the largest Kurdish guerrilla army in Iraq. My code name is Little Hawk. Mossad has cooperated with us for many years. When you contact Tel Aviv, speak with Adi Idan, to confirm who I am. My father, who worked with Michael and was executed, was called Hawk.

I’ve led raids on military installations and captured the latest Russian weapons and their manuals. I have trained my men to use them. Today, we are not a ragtag bunch of amateurs. We are now like a miniature Israeli army becoming a force to be reckoned with. I can shoot a shoulder missile launcher and bring down a helicopter. Helicopters don’t come looking for us anymore.

Fifteen years ago I instructed my best friend, my cousin Hamid, to infiltrate the Iraqi military. I gave him false papers and luck was with us, for he was made a colonel after he discovered a plot to assassinate General Abdel Amir, the man who became Iraq’s President. As an additional reward, he became the trusted aide to the President.

When Abdel Amir blew up the bunker, Hamid was killed by the blast. I was less than half a mile from the camp and heard the explosion. I ran as fast as I could, fearing the worst. Neither Hamid nor I thought Amir would kill all the men who helped to plot the Screaming Eagles. We had secretly arranged that I would meet him outside the compound the following night so he could hand over all the evidence that he had been collecting.

I realize now Amir could not have living witnesses. He did the smart thing. He killed everyone, including his own son.

After the explosion, I found the tapes, transcripts, plans and maps where Hamid had hidden them in the ceiling. I also found a list of senators, congressmen, bankers and businesses that are friendly to Iraq. All of these people support Iraq secretly and receive monies in Switzerland in payment for their services. This is the proof you are looking for Perry. Hamid had miniature cameras and tape recorders in pens and his cigarette case. As you are about to see shortly, Hamid was an industrious and meticulous spy.” Jalal opened his suitcase and started stacking tapes secured by rubber bands on the carpet. Each was neatly dated showing the year, and the time of day. He then pulled out bundles of folded papers and also stacked them in some sort of order.

Watching in total disbelief, too stunned to speak, Michael, Perry and Hanan saw Jalal move to another part of the carpet and continue unpacking his suitcase.

Lastly, he took out dozens of photographs, stacking them in a pile one on top of the other. He threw two of the photographs toward Michael.

Michael immediately recognized the first photograph. It was of him and Sadegh sitting in the Japanese restaurant eating sushi in Fort Lauderdale in the early nineteen seventies. The second photograph was taken in Teheran. Sadegh was smiling and had just handed Michael the signed contracts for the properties that Sadegh purchased in Chicago the previous week. The photograph had been taken on Family Day, and they were standing near the gallows where Dara was later hanged.

Perry stood up and started pacing, his head inclined slightly to one side. The bones of his cheeks moved rapidly as if he was chewing gum. He looked straight ahead purposefully ignoring them as they watched him. Hanan cleared his throat, his fingers beat a slow rhythm on the arm of the chair.

Michael sensed Perry’s anger, the slow burn beginning to smolder showing in his body language as he opened and closed his fists.

Suddenly, without warning Perry shouted, “Children. Fucking children trying to play with the grownups. I don’t mean you Hanan. Are you two out of your frigging minds, has everyone gone mad? This isn’t a fucking game. Jalal walks into this apartment a few hours ago with some sort of Machiavellian plan that he and his twelve wise men dreamed up in their mystic mountains.

Martyrs might be considered the greatest thing since sliced bread in your religion, Jalal, but in my religion, we try to survive and live for as long as we can. We try to survive sometimes at any cost whereas you are a man who’s resigned himself to a martyr’s death. You’ve come to terms with the fact that your death will occur in a few hours or a few days, doesn’t matter which. Doesn’t matter if Sadegh kills you, the Iraqis kill you or the Americans kill you. The sixty-four thousand-dollar question is not if you will die, but when you will die. You’ve told us many things, but not how you want us to send your body back to the mystic mountains. Do you want it in a body bag or ashes in a samovar or maybe there’s a special Kurdish way to send your pathetic remains to paradise. Heaven forbid that I should deny you your glorious afterlife. However, Jalal, there’s a little point that you’ve overlooked that’s causing me a tiny little bit of discomfort.

When you’re dead and gone to the great mountains in the sky, I will be faced with a little problem. Your enemies will have become my enemies. No, pardon me, I stand corrected, forgive me, Jalal.” Perry paused for effect, his sarcasm vicious. “Guess what my new found friend, your enemies miraculously will become our mortal enemies. They’ll not be searching for your family hidden away in the mountains, they will be searching for us, Michael, Hanan and me. We’ll be the new targets. Sadegh, or whatever his new name is, will send his kamikazes after us.

Oh, I almost forgot. The people in my government you’ve named as collaborators, as well as the CIA, will all, and I mean all, be hunting us. Hunting licenses will be issued to bring us back dead. They won’t even want a little life to be left in our bodies. It’ll be open season on us, while you’re enjoying your after life. The President, my commander-in-chief, will need us to be very dead very quickly, so that his spin-doctors can do the necessary damage control. He won’t want to leave witnesses around any more than the Iraqi President did. Our President will find it in his very best interests to get very rid of us and make sure our bodies are never found. I think I speak for all when I say that I don’t want any of those motherfuckers chasing me because in a moment of weakness, we like Michael, helped you.”

Returning his stare, Jalal said quietly and carefully, “So you won’t help me.” Michael started to say something but Perry gestured with his hand waving him to be quiet.

The blind fury that rumbled below the surface exploded. “I didn’t say that. Damn it, Jalal, don’t try to manipulate us. I’m trying very hard to keep my temper, so don’t put words in my mouth. I am a black man, the only African American here in this room, so don’t tell me that I don’t know about suffering and hangings and open season by the Klan. Stick around, my friend, when we have a few months or years to talk about it, I can tell you about killings and broken promises and viciousness and terror from the time we came here in slave ships from Africa. A few years ago three white boys tied a black man behind a truck and pulled him for two miles until the only piece of his body left tied to the rope, was one foot. You don’t have a monopoly on being murdered. You say thirty million of your people have suffered, well, we blacks number over fifty million and I would say that we’ve suffered as much, if not more throughout our history, so cut the crap.

In your warped mind, you’ve already given up on your life. We haven’t. We don’t plan to, and I for one, am going to do everything I possibly can to come out of this alive. What I’m trying to do, and surprisingly, I seem to be the only one in this room trying, is to find a way to improve our odds so that you can succeed. If we can help you to succeed, maybe, just maybe, we can by some miracle remain alive. I’m going to need some time. I need to think this through.”

Perry paused, hands on his hips, leaning slightly forward agitation on his face as he glared at Jalal. Michael and Hanan looked at Jalal not saying anything.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Jalal,” Perry said at last. “I’ll talk this through with the others. Even if you don’t trust me, I feel sure that you trust them. Give me about three, four hours, Michael can wake you then. Without sleep, you’ll be a liability to us. I’ll need you to be alert and ready to respond, and your lack of sleep could be dangerous. For the record, I don’t particularly like you, I know you don’t think much of me, but I’m taking charge as of now. If you or anyone else has a problem with this, let’s get it out now.” Perry stood across the room from Jalal challenging him to say something.

Jalal said nothing. He had crossed his leg again, his hand inches away from his gun. Calmly he returned Perry’s stare. His control was incredible, no outward signs of the tearing anger or fury that must have been roiling in his gut.

Perry said, “I know you think we Americans are stupid, but I’m not so stupid not to know that you’ve a gun in an ankle holster. Even a rookie cop would know that, so stop with your childish games. Either use it or don’t, because I’m waiting motherfucker. I’m waiting for you to put up or shut up. If you’re not going to use your gun, get the fuck out of this room, we’ve got work to do. Leave us so that we can work without you whining and reminding us of your country’s piddling problems. I want clear thinking, not solutions that only benefit your country. I have a country too.”

Surprisingly, Jalal didn’t argue. He got up and followed Michael to the guestroom.

When Michael returned he couldn’t control his anger any longer. “Perry, what in the fuck got into you? Why’d you taunt him the way you did? Are you fucking mental? He’s not afraid of you. I’ve lived with them, seen them fight. Push him too far, he’ll come after you with a knife or bare hands. If he thinks you’re his enemy and can’t trust you, he’ll definitely come after you. He won’t let you leave this apartment, you fucking moron.”

Perry shook his head disgustedly. “Your friend wants to die a glorious death. If it means that we have to die with him, he could care less. I needed him to know that I know he’s using us and considers us expendable. That’s why he got up and left us alone without an argument.”

Still mad at Perry, Michael said, “Why’d you think he gave up so easily? That’s not like him.”

With Jalal out of the room, Perry seemed to relax. He laughed. “Don’t you see it yet, Michael? Your friend has everything he came for and more, much, much more. Not only has he got your sympathy by playing on your massive guilt about his father, he’s succeeded in getting you to help him. Help was all he came for. You took his predicament and made it our problem as well. However, he got two unexpected bonuses?Hanan and myself. Within a few short hours, he has a team on his side. Hanan is for sure in his corner because Israel is only a couple of hundred miles from Iraq, about eight minutes away if they launch missiles. Hanan also knows that if push comes to shove and our President and Congress have to make difficult choices, the U.S. will side with Iraq. Israel is expendable and Hanan knows that. Right Hanan?” Hanan cleared his throat, said nothing, just nodded.