The Screaming Eagles (30 page)

“Don’t know,” replied Michael. “If we can find that solution, who can we trust? That list on the tapes had some very big names. How long before they discover what we are doing? For example, can we speak to Dani?”

“No. He was the first person I thought of,” said Perry. “I’ve known him a long time and I trust him, but the only people he can contact will generally all be at his level in law enforcement. The same with my sister. Law enforcement anywhere in the world is generally totally controlled by political entities of one sort or another. Even though the politicians say that covert operations and committees are at arms-length, they really aren’t. There are far too many politicians’ names on the tapes and contacting anyone who’s in touch with a politician puts us in immediate danger.”

“Can we threaten him that we will go public?” said Michael. “I could ask Julie to get her friend Irene who came out of hospital last week to do a live interview with Jalal on A.T.N.” Perry shrugged. “Won’t help. Unless Leffeld’s in our custody, he’ll escape. If that happens, it’ll be impossible to have him extradited from Iraq, and all he has to do then is continue with his countdown, using Baghdad as his base instead of Highland Park in Chicago. There are still six Eagles unaccounted for. If he felt it necessary, he could activate them. If they’re still in the States it might be a little inconvenient for him, but the end result will still be a disaster for our country. If all else fails, though, we go public. Before that happens, we might have to get a guarantee we’re able to go into witness protection.”

Grimly Michael looked first at Hanan then at Perry. “Who will guarantee the guarantors to get us into witness protection? Let’s keep on along the line of finding a spanner.” Michael got up. “Excuse me, I need to go to the washroom. Must have eaten something I shouldn’t have. My stomach’s killing me.”

Michael walked past Jalal, patting him on the shoulder, smiling at him as he made his way to the washroom.

Michael closed the washroom door, locking it. Jalal’s evidence was so overwhelming and meticulous that there was no doubt whatsoever in Michael’s mind that he had stumbled on a plot by Iraq that had already brilliantly succeeded.

He needed some quiet time with no interruptions. A plan had been forming in his mind when he first realized the extreme danger to them all and the hopelessness of their situation. In the long term maybe they could survive a few months if they did nothing, said nothing and kept a low profile. Maybe he could send transcripts of the tapes to various media anonymously and leak it on a daily basis. Leffeld had the ability to implement his operation at any time, and that time would come sooner once he heard of the leaks to the media. Possibly a solution could be found before the economic destruction began, but how? If they or Jalal went directly to selected TV stations, their lives would be in danger once the American President found out what evidence they had and who they were. The President would have no alternative but to kill Jalal and the three of them so as to make sure the truth would not get out and cause a government collapse and his impeachment.

Michael’s alternative plan was crazy, but he could not delay it any longer. Crunch time was now, there was no other way to get all of them out of the danger of being assassinated by the CIA. He would have to consider his plan as the only viable option.

Leffeld planned to destroy a country and its people’s way of life so they could conform to his new, world order.

He had to be stopped. Killing him was the only way.

Michael knew that he could not involve Perry and Hanan; he would have to do it with Jalal. The exercise of brainstorming was to use their minds and creativity in case they stumbled unexpectedly onto a different solution that would work. It had been necessary, but so far had come up with nothing. He had to think this through carefully, for like Jalal, he knew they’d run out of time. Returning to the kitchen he planned to excuse himself saying that he needed to get some sleep and arrange to meet later at seven in the evening. This would free him up to start looking for Leffeld right away.

Many years ago when he was still working in Israeli counter intelligence one of his instructors had explained how they located and killed the mastermind of the Munich Olympic massacre of Israeli athletes. The man had been captured in Afghanistan and the Israelis knew that it would have been impossible to smuggle him out of the country. They took him up into the mountains and killed him slowly by having rats eat his flesh a little piece at a time as they interrogated him. They’d kept him alive for three days and were astounded by the information they received. The Israeli commando unit was able to thwart the terrorists from launching attacks two months later on five schools simultaneously in Israel as well as two universities. The attacks were all to have occurred at the same time on the same day. The day chosen was the anniversary day the athletes were killed in Munich.

The instructor said he realized as he watched the man die that when another human tortures or maims a victim, the person mentally will resist and fight back until the very last breath, no matter how extreme the pain. The person being tortured holds onto their hatred fiercely and the slim hope that by some miracle they will be saved. Part of their brain encourages the victim to hold on just one more minute, and somehow, some one would rescue them. It happens every night on TV or at the movies. Just one more minute would be their last thought as they died.

However, people have no thought of rescue when attacked by a predator, a mindless machine killing so as to eat for its survival, not to try to inflict pain or torture.

Michael smiled to himself as he realized with a start how exhausted he was and that his mind was off and running, retrieving and reliving memories. For a while he relaxed and closed his eyes, feeling the tension drain out. The instructor’s way of interrogation was how he would find the answers. He would use rats to kill Leffeld.

The rats would eat him slower so that he could keep him alive longer. Michael would find a way to extract every secret Leffeld had hidden away in the deepest recesses of his mind, only then would he let Leffeld die. If Leffeld had a back up person or plan, Michael would find it. The remaining six Eagles had to be identified, found and killed immediately. It would be rats that would make Leffeld talk, not subpoenas, a court of law or interrogation in a jail cell.

Michael sat on the toilet seat fine tuning his plan. Mentally he divided what needed to be done into three stages. Locate and find Leffeld. Capture him. Torture him by slowly letting the rats rip him to pieces an inch at a time.

Finally, after several more minutes, Michael got up, flushed the toilet so they could hear, washed his hands and opened the door.

*

When Michael returned to the kitchen, Hanan had a fax in his hand. “Remember the fax which had to do with Leffeld’s hobbies. Nothing unusual, typical rich man’s toys?a pool, yacht. Belongs to various charitable organizations, is not identified with any political parties. However, what caught my eye was an interview given to Chicago Style, a glossy magazine that most of the business community reads.

Leffeld was interviewed last year when he was elected President of the Strategic Think Tank, the Chicago based division of Strategic Think Tank International. He was elected to serve for a year. Why I read the article, was because a few years ago, I was a guest speaker and my topic was what peace with the PLO had brought to Israel. I did not meet Leffeld, he was probably a board member at the time. However, as a courtesy, they send me an invitation every year to attend the induction of their new President. I received the invitation last week, and sent my apologies as I have done every year. I will now call them to say that I will attend tonight as Leffeld’s term of office expired last week. The new president Barry David takes office this evening at a dinner to be held at the Hilton Hotel.

So we have a number of options that I can think of, and I’m sure all of you will have some ideas also.

First, we know he’ll be in Chicago at least until tonight. Second, we know exactly where he’ll be. Third, I could easily get into the dinner. This would allow you three to go to his house in Highland Park, see if you can get in and do whatever, or, wait until he returns.”

Michael nodded, a grin starting to appear as he thought of various possibilities. “Carry on. I like the way you’re thinking.” “I’ll go to the dinner. He might or might not know me and even if he does, he won’t connect me to anyone.

When he leaves, I’ll follow and call Perry’s beeper from my car phone to alert Perry, you and Jalal. If he doesn’t return to his home, at least I can follow and when he stops, or goes somewhere else, where ever it is, we’ll at least know his location. You guys can come to where I’ll be waiting and watching and together all four of us can intercept him. If you want to wait until he returns to Highland Park, it will be an additional option for us if I follow him there.”

Michael, still determined to proceed with his previous plans, realized that by a stroke of luck he might be able to get to Leffeld sooner than he had anticipated. But the only way to make Leffeld talk would be to torture him, that plan would not be changed. He would have to find some way to let Perry and Hanan allow him and Jalal to take Leffeld away on their own. He had no intention to tell them what he planned to do to Leffeld.

They sat silently absorbed in their own thoughts, mulling over each of the possibilities and searching for a plan that might be better.

No one saw Jalal put down his coffee mug and slowly withdraw the gun from his ankle holster.

Jalal leveled his gun, aiming it directly at Perry. Quietly he said, “All of you put your hands on the table top where I can see them.”

Michael sighed, “Jalal, this is stupid, we’re your friends.”

Jalal watched Perry carefully as he turned to face the gun. Jalal moved half a step forward, the barrel still aiming only at Perry. Everyone looked at the gun, not at the man holding it. No one moved.

“I too have a plan, but mine is not to be voted on. When you catch Sadegh, who will make him talk? Which one of you has knowledge of how to do this? Who of you knows what to ask him so I can save my people who are about to be slaughtered? Which one of you will know when he is broken and you can trust his answers? Who will finally kill him? How will you kill him? Where will you kill him?”

Still looking directly at Perry, Jalal seemed to be daring Perry to try to take away his weapon. “You would not allow me to take part in your planning. That was your privilege Mr. FBI man, and I obeyed. This gun that you sneered at has a hair trigger. It has taken away your privilege to tell me what I can or cannot do. As you can see, it is aiming at your heart. If you still feel this gun will not kill you, why don’t you try taking it away from me? Personally, you mean nothing to me. Leffeld means everything to me. If I have to kill you so that I can get Leffeld, I will. For the way that you insulted me I have every right to kill you here and now; however, if we all get out of this alive, you and I personally, on our own, will settle scores. You will choose our weapons. This will be a matter of honor for you and for me. Until then we must work together, for your country is now facing destruction in the same way as mine is. I do not have time, nor do you, for us to fight each other, so if you agree and swear an oath in front of your friends, who tell me you are an honorable man, I will give you my plan. Your call.” For a long moment Perry’s eyes locked on Jalal’s, “Fuck off.” Jalal’s body stiffened. Coldly watching Perry’s eyes, trying to read his intentions, careful of the body language being telegraphed, he began to take a step forward. Blood up, a hot rage building between them, the fire in their eyes signaled that neither would back down. Face flushed the muscles on Perry’s face knotted, as he was about to say something. Sensing that they were beyond the point of sanity, Michael shouted, “Stop it. For fuck’s sake, stop it. What is it with you two? You’re like two spoiled brats. We have a fucking major crisis here that needs a solution immediately. Stop your fucking macho acts right now. Both of you stop right where you are. Do you hear me, you pieces of shit, or do I fucking well kick you both in the balls to get your attention.”

Voice rising, lips white and filled with a rage that screamed his frustration, “I mean it you fucks, I mean it.” Putting himself between them he pushed them both away angrily, furiously looking from one to the other. Perry’s heels caught the back of the couch and though he tried vainly to keep himself upright, the momentum made him sit down sharply, awkwardly overbalancing onto the seat of the couch. He immediately tried getting up but Michael had moved toward him and pushing his shoulder down stopped him from rising. “You want to fucking well kill each other, fine, but not in my house. Both of you get the fuck out of here, kill yourselves outside in the street or where ever you want, but not in my fucking house. You two are little snot nosed kids fighting over stupid toys or being territorial. I’ve had enough of you two morons. Get the fuck out of my life now, or sit down. Then together we decide what to do about Leffeld.” The tension was electric. Hatred still enveloped both men pouring off in waves, neither wanting to let it go as they stared across the room at each other. From the couch as he struggled to get up trying to move Michael’s hand away, Perry saw in Jalal’s face the same desperation that Perry must have had when he decided to kill the Klan members over thirty years ago, and asked his only friend for help. A violent jolt went through his body piercing the hotness of his anger, the Klan rushing into his memory reminding him of dark hidden corners festering, its venom still poisoning his soul after so many years. Jalal too, had asked his only friend in Chicago to help him, but for some reason, which escaped him, he’d resented the man request. Perry knew that he was not helping. He acknowledged to himself that it was probably jealousy, envy or something as stupid. He felt ashamed as he saw the lines of tension on Jalal’s face, the strength of his chin, the power and fierceness in his eyes. He sensed the strain just below the surface and wondered what was holding Jalal together. Perry realized that his face must have looked the same way when he discovered who the Klan members were as he watched them dressing in their robes from his hiding place. He remembered standing by the window of Boss Johnny’s house, and how in an instant he’d decided to kill them one at a time, he remembered that he had not been afraid, looking at Jalal, he saw the man’s determination. Jalal too was not afraid, he saw no fear in his eyes.