"A lot has happened since we spoke on Friday." Clark glanced down at a piece of paper before him. It was a predetermined gesture that he thought would look good on TV. "I was wondering if before we resumed with our questions, you would care to respond to the accusations that were made against you yesterday by Congressman Rudin?"
Kennedy opened her mouth, but she never got the words out. Despite outnumbering her significantly, the other Senators on the dais were not about to let Kennedy go on the offensive and set the agenda. Five of them instantly began vying for Clark 's attention.
"Excuse me, Mr. Chairman!" bellowed Senator Jetland. He repeated himself four more times until he'd drowned out the others. Having silenced his colleagues, he didn't bother to wait for the chair to recognize him. "I think our purposes would be better served today if we were allowed to ask the nominee some very pointed questions." The senator from New Mexico gave Kennedy a sidelong glance and continued saying, "Now, we were supposed to start at ten this morning but things were pushed back to one, and it's now," Jetland glanced at his watch, "ten minutes past. I would suggest that if Dr. Kennedy has a statement, it can either be entered into the record, or if there's enough time left over at the end of the day, she can read it then."
Despite the lust for blood, several of the senators wanted to hear what Kennedy had to say. They recognized what Jetland was up to and did not want to look like bullies. They began to intervene on Kennedy's behalf, but were interrupted.
The surprise came from the witness table. "If that's what Senator Jetland would prefer that's fine with me." Kennedy was calling him out. Jetland was a showboat who'd been an undependable ally of the CIA for some time. He also served on the judiciary committee, to which he devoted the bulk of his time. The only time he got involved in Intelligence issues was when it meant that he might get some headlines. He also happened to be one of President Hayes's harshest critics.
Again, not waiting to be recognized by the chair, Senator Jetland grabbed the pedestal of his microphone and said, "That is very kind of you, Dr. Kennedy. I would like to start out by asking you what was the extent of your involvement in the raids that were conducted at the office and home of Congressman Rudin this morning?"
"Could you be a little more specific, please?"
A faint smile spread across Jetland's face and he asked, "Did you advise the President or Director Roach of the FBI, or anyone at the FBI for that matter, that they should launch this raid against Congressman Rudin?"
All eyes turned to Kennedy. She leaned forward and said, "Yes, I did."
Shocked whispers rustled through the gallery. Senator Clark banged the gavel twice before the room fell silent. Kennedy added, "I advised both the President and Director Roach that they should serve Congressman Rudin with a search warrant."
Senator Jetland placed both elbows on the table and said, "I find it very disturbing that you would launch a vendetta against a member of the House of Representatives after he went public with certain allegations that might be damaging to your career." He glared at Kennedy.
Unfazed, Kennedy sat silent for a moment and then asked, "Is that a question or a statement, Senator Jetland?" Jetland was not amused. "You can treat it as either. Just please respond to it in a truthful manner."
"The only thing I'd like to respond to is your choice of the word vendetta." Kennedy spoke in her trademark clinical fashion. Her tone was even and respectful. "I have no vendetta against Congressman Rudin. I think the record would show that it is the congressman who has a vendetta against the CIA."
"So that excuses you ordering the President to have Congressman Rudin treated like a criminal?"
"Senator, one does not order the President to do anything. Especially not this President. President Hayes is-"
Jetland cut her off. "Have any federal agents broken down your door lately, to rifle through your personal effects?"
"I wasn't aware that they broke down the congressman's door." Kennedy knew they hadn't, and wasn't about to let Jetland get away with the implication.
"You didn't answer my question, Dr. Kennedy. Let me rephrase it. Have any federal agents seized your files at the behest of Congressman Rudin?"
"No they haven't, sir."
Jetland treated this admission as a victory and took the chance to look around the bench at his colleagues. "I find it to be just a bit of a coincidence that after Congressman Rudin goes on TV and accuses you of some very serious violations, you in turn advise the President, and the director of the FBI, that they should conduct a raid on the congressman."
Kennedy looked up with her doelike eyes and said, "It is my job to advise the President." "Thank you, Dr. Kennedy," said Jetland in a patronizing tone. "I appreciate the remedial civics lesson. Now let's get to the heart of the matter. What was your reason for advising President Hayes to treat Congressman Rudin like he was a criminal?"
Kennedy took quite a long time to answer the question. So long that it was obvious that she did not want to. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry but I can't answer your question, Senator Jetland."
Jetlands brows furrowed for the cameras, and he scowled at Kennedy's defrance. "You can't or you won't?"
"I won't." Kennedy held her ground.
"Are you claiming executive privilege, Dr. Kennedy?"
"No, I'm not, Senator. For reasons involving national security I cannot and will not answer your question."
Kennedy's reply tripped the senator up a bit and it took him a moment to form his next question. Recovering loudly, Jetland asked, "Congressman Rudin appeared on Meet the Press yesterday, and he leveled some pretty serious accusations at you. Would you care to comment on those accusations?"
"No."
"And why not?"
"For reasons involving national security."
"How convenient," sniped the senator.
Kennedy calmly replied, "I don't think there is anything convenient about national security."
"Yes," bellowed the senator from New Mexico, "I'm sure you're willing to go to great lengths to protect what you consider to be this nation's national security. Even break a few laws along the way, perhaps?"
In her no-nonsense manner Kennedy asked, "Again, is that a statement or a question, Senator?"
"I have a question for you," spat the senator. "Do you think this committee will confirm your nomination if you refuse to answer our questions?"
"No." Kennedy shook her head.
"Am I to assume then, that you no longer want the job as director of the Central Intelligence Agency?"
"No, you would be wrong to assume that."
"Then you still want the job?"
"Yes"
Jetland threw up his arms in a theatrical gesture of frustration. "Well, Dr. Kennedy, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you can't have it both ways. If you want to be the next director of the CIA you'll have to answer some pretty tough questions, so let's get back to the task at hand." Jetland flipped open a file and said, "Congressman Rudin claims to have information that was provided by one of your coworkers. I know Congressman Rudin, and have no reason to doubt the authenticity of his information, so for now I'm going to believe him." Jetland repositioned his chair and settled in. "I find that when we get into these types of discussions its easy to get lost or confused, so I'm going to make this real simple and clear for everyone." Jetland held up a photograph and showed it to Kennedy. "Here's a face. It's always nice to put a face on a problem. This particular problem has a name and it's Mitch Rapp." Now according to Congressman Rudin and his source, this man has worked for the CIA for the last ten years, and he's no clerk," the senator added with an arched brow. "He's allegedly responsible for the deaths of over twenty people. Twenty people!" Jetland paused to give everyone a chance to think of the bodies. "Could you confirm or deny for us whether or not this man is, or has ever been, employed by the CIA?"
Kennedy looked at the photograph, and thought it was very fortunate that Mitch was far away from a TV in the middle of a desert right now. With g
reat concern on her face she replied, "Senator, for reasons of national security I cannot answer your question."
Jetland shook his head in frustration. "That is entirely unacceptable!"
Kennedy nodded as if to say she understood. After glancing at her watch she shocked the entire room by standing. She looked up at Senator Clark and said, "Mr. Chairman, I have something I must attend to. I apologize that I couldn't respond to the committees questions today, but there are some extenuating circumstances at play. My reluctance in no way should be seen as an affront to the committee or the Senate. The President will contact you within the next day in regard to my status as a nominee. Thank you for your time and consideration." With that Kennedy turned and left the room to wide eyes and a chorus of whispers.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO.
Saudi Arabia, Monday night
Oasis One was a flurry of anxious activity as helicopters were prepped and equipment was checked. The briefings were all completed and the team was ready to go. Rapp emerged from the command trailer wearing his Special Republican Guard uniform and took in the scene before him. The air was stifling inside from all the cigarette smoke. Colonel Gray and his staff were listening intently to the status reports from the mission's advance element. An MH-53J Pave Low helicopter from the air force's 20th Special Operation Squadron was already across the border and on its way to Scorpion I. The big helicopter was carrying a twelve member air force STS team made up of combat controllers and para rescue personnel. The team specialized in securing landing sites and evacuating wounded and downed aviators. They were a crucial part of the mission, especially if things went wrong. To bolster their effectiveness, Colonel Gray had sent along four of his best Delta snipers.
The desert sky was bright with stars. Rapp looked up in search of the moon only to find a sliver of white. For his part of the mission he would have preferred cloud cover, but he knew the fly-boys dropping their paveway guided bombs from above 10,000 feet would appreciate the clear skies. Rapp scratched the thick stubble on his face. He'd trimmed it up along the neckline and cheeks, just like Uday Hussein did. The red and gold epaulets on his green uniform bore the rank of general. Rapp found it comical that Uday, who was only thirty-seven, had already reached such a high rank. Welcome to the crazy world of dictators. He had a black leather belt strapped to his waist with two holsters. Uday fashioned himself a bit of a cowboy and was known to carry two Colt.45 caliber nickel-plated pistols. To complete the outfit he was wearing a black beret with the insignia of the SRG on the front and a bright red cravat that conveniently concealed his throat mike. For two reasons Rapp had opted not to wear an American uniform under the Iraqi one. The first was that Rapp was a good twenty pounds heavier than Uday, and putting an extra layer of clothes on under the SRG uniform would have only made the disparity more obvious. The second reason was more fatalistic. If they were caught, they would be tortured and killed no matter what uniform they were wearing. He was also wearing a Kevlar vest and an encrypted radio with a throat mike and an earpiece. Each member of the team was wearing the same radio. This would allow them to stay in communication throughout the operation.
Rapp looked out at the scene before him. Oasis One was a comforting site. It showed a lot of initiative by the military, something they weren't always known for. The rock formation rose out of the desert floor approximately 100 feet and was bowl shaped, with a slight opening at the southwestern end. The bowl was over 500 feet across at its center. The interior of the bowl was covered by desert camouflage netting. More than 100 yards of it was stretched tightly from one side to the other. Underneath the netting sat four highly advanced MH-47E Chinook helicopters with ground crews climbing over the airframes checking every inch of the complicated birds to make sure they were in perfect condition. The twin rotor behemoth was the new workhorse for the army's 160th SOAR.
The 160th SOAR, based out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, is widely regarded as home to the best helicopter pilots in the world. The only other aviators who can give them a run for their money are the men from the Air Force's 1st Special Operations Wing, and they too would be involved in tonight's operation. Both units owed their current peak performance to a tragedy that had occurred more than twenty years earlier. On April 24, 1980, the United States Special Forces community suffered their greatest defeat in an operation code-named Eagle Claw.
Eagle Claw would painfully reveal the inadequacies and shortcomings created by decades of inter-service rivalries and a general reluctance on the part of military leaders to properly fund the Special Forces. The mission on that fateful night was to rescue the fifty-three hostages held at the American embassy in Teheran. The Ayatollah Khomeini and his Revolutionary Guard had seized the embassy and its personnel some six months earlier. Time had run out on President Carter, and if he wanted to spend four more years at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the hostages had to be brought home.
The operation would be the first time the army's super secret Delta counterterrorism force would see action. On that cold April evening, five C-130 transport and refueling planes were to rendezvous with eight RH-53D Sea Stallion helicopters at a sight known as Desert I. The Sea Stallions were then to refuel and take on the Delta operators for the trip to a site in the mountains outside Teheran. Unfortunately, the mission was scrubbed after two of the eight Sea Stallions got lost enroute to Desert I, and a third suffered mechanical difficulties. There were not enough helicopters left to get the job done, so the plug was pulled. That was when a bad situation got worse, drastically worse.
As one of the Sea Stallions maneuvered into position for refueling, its main rotor hit an EC-130E, and both the helicopter and plane burst into flames. With fire shooting into the night sky, the team had to make an emergency departure leaving behind all the helicopters and the burning plane.
In the wake of the disaster the military formed a review group that was aimed at pacifying critics in the media and on the Hill. Admiral James Holloway chaired the group, and fortunately for the Special Forces, the admiral didn't pull any punches. The group produced a document that eventually became known as the Holloway Report. It laid bare the inadequacies of operation Eagle Claw. At the top of the list was the subject of helicopters. The report stated that if future covert missions were to stand a chance, the military had to greatly improve its helicopter operations.
The result was the formation of a covert aviation unit named Task Force 160. Forty highly qualified candidates were selected to make up the task force. Of those original forty pilots more than half a dozen perished in training accidents as they pushed their flying machines to the limit in the worst of weather conditions. It was during this time that they became known as the "Night Stalkers." By the early nineties the force had grown to approximately 400 aviators. This was also when they took on their official name, the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, or SOAR. The aviators and airmen of SOAR train constantly, in the worst of conditions, and do so while hugging the earth at speeds of over 120 mph. This is why they are the best helicopter pilots in the world.
Rapp had put his life in their hands on many occasions, and although they'd brought him to the brink of vomiting on at least three occasions, there was no other group of aviators he trusted more. He watched the flight crews work on their helicopters under red filter lights. The scene before him looked like something out of a futuristic sci-fi movie. He could see the pilots sitting in the cockpits of the big MH-47E Chinooks. They too were working under the faint glow of red filter lights. Because they would be flying with night vision they could not expose their expert eyes to bright light for at least an hour prior to takeoff. There would be no Desert I disasters with these guys.
Rapp knew they were going through their extensive preflight checklist. The advanced Chinooks came at a price tag of $35 million apiece. Each bird was capable of carrying thirty troops or a variety of other payloads. They were equipped with the Enhanced Navigation Systems, or ENS. Using twenty separate systems such as Doppler navigation, automatic direction fi
nders, attitude director indicators, GPS, and a bevy of compasses and gyroscopes, the ENS tells the pilots exactly where they are at all times. They were also equipped with highly advanced terrain-following/terrain-avoidance radar and forward-looking infrared imagers or FLIR. This integrated system allowed the aviators to fly deep penetration missions while skimming the surface, in the worst of weather conditions, and land exactly on a target within seconds of their stated extraction or infiltration time.
Three of the four Chinooks were loaded with the white Mercedes sedans. The team would split up and ride with their vehicles-four Delta operators in each chopper plus Rapp in the middle helicopter. The fourth Chinook was there as a backup in case something went wrong with any of the others.
His detached solitude was broken by the door to the command trailer opening and Colonel Gray's gruff voice loudly barking out orders. A second later Major Berg, the commander of the assault team, appeared at Rapp's side.
In Arabic the major asked, "Are you ready, Uday Hussein?"
Rapp grinned. Looking at the choppers he replied in Arabic, "Yep. Let's go win one for the Gipper, rah rah, sisboomba." Major Berg smiled, showing a bright set of white teeth accented by a thick black mustache. "The advance team is halfway there. No problems so far."
"I suppose it's time to saddle up?"
"Yep. Dust off in five minutes." Berg stood silent for a moment and then added, "Last chance to back out."
"You couldn't pay me enough to miss this one."
The door to the command trailer flew open and Colonel Gray appeared in the doorway. "Major Berg, get your men and load 'em up!" The colonel approached Rapp and stuck out his hand. "Good luck, Mitch. I wish I was going with you."
Rapp knew he meant it. He took Gray's hand, and over the roar of the big Chinooks engines coming to life, he thought about giving the colonel a message for Anna in case something went wrong. After a moment of hesitation he decided against it. He thanked the colonel and then headed off to grab the rest of his equipment.