Separation of Power

In recent years the Iraqis had begun firing more frequently on coalition flights that were enforcing the southern no-fly zone. Unlike his predecessor, General Flood believed in the capabilities of Special Forces. The previous chairman of the Joint Chiefs was loath to use the highly trained warriors. Fortunately, Flood thought it made as much sense as owning a Corvette and never taking it out of the garage. As Iraq became increasingly aggressive against coalition flights. General Flood took the leash off the Special Force's units arrayed across the northern frontier. They began launching raids across the border, harassing Iraqi army units, ambushing them and then disappearing into the desert. Green Beret, Delta Force and Navy SEAL snipers began eliminating Iraqi officers at distances approaching a mile. This harassing of the enemy had greatly affected the morale of the Iraqi units and a lessening of their desire to patrol so close to the border. The end result was some much appreciated breathing room for the Special Forces units arrayed across the northern frontier.

Rapp peered out from his perch. Long shadows fell from the escarpment as the sun prepared to slip over the western horizon. He could feel the heat escaping from the arid desert. The temperature would drop thirty degrees in the next two hours. Rapp looked at the patches of darkness below, stretching out to the east toward Baghdad and possible death. There was no fear, just anticipation and maybe a few regrets. He wished things had worked out between him and A

A light breeze twisted the sand at the bottom of the escarpment into a fu

"Beautiful up here, isn't it?" asked the wiry leader of Delta Force.

"Very"

"A perfect natural fort." Gray placed a hand on the rock and looked down the hundred-foot sheer drop to the desert floor.

"What did you have to give the Bedouins to get it from them?"

"Nothing. They used to launch raids from this place across the border into Iraq. They'd steal anything they could get their hands on. Saddam got fed up and in eighty-nine he cleared the rats' nest out and poisoned the well. The Bedouins left and have never come back."

Rapp nodded. Water dictated all travel in the desert. "Have you put any more thought into tonight?"

"Yeah. I think you're right. The men have the infiltration and extraction down. No sense ru

"You've talked to Washington ."Rapp kept his eyes on the desert.

"Yep."

"And it's on?"

Gray cocked his head and gri

"Good. We can't afford to have this compromised. The longer we wait around the better chance there is that someone will talk." "Not my men," said a defensive Gray.

"It's not your men I'm worried about. It's the blowhards back in D. C." Rapp added quietly, "We need complete surprise to pull this off. I told the President your men could handle it. Another day or week of training will only give us a marginal benefit, but if the word leaks out somehow, we're fucked." Rapp looked off into the distance toward Baghdad. "If they know we're coming, no amount of training is going to save us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE.

South Lawn, The White House, Sunday afternoon

The day was still as Marine One descended ominously from the gray sky. The wheels landed perfectly on the three disks that had been put down to keep the heavy helicopter from sinking into the lush grass. The fire engine was in place just in case something went wrong and the Secret Service was out in full force to dissuade anyone from trying anything stupid. The meet-and-greet at the rope line had been canceled. When the President left and returned to the White House on Marine One, his staff often arranged for friends, family, and donors, of course, to watch. Depending on how busy the President was he would sometimes stop and shake hands. The meet-and-greet had been scheduled for 7:00 P. M. Due to a certain congressman's interview on Meet the Press, the President was returning early from Camp David, and he was in no mood to shake anyone's hand.

The hatch opened and President Hayes appeared almost immediately. He was wearing a pair of olive dress slacks, a white button-down and a blue blazer. He saluted the marine standing at the foot of the helicopter and wasted no time heading for his office. As he motored quickly across the South Lawn, his staff tried frantically to keep up. Several of them attempted to talk to him, but he wasn't having any of it. He had one thing on his mind right now, and he wasn't going to talk about it outside. When he reached the Oval Office he slammed the door closed and glared at his chief of staff, Valerie Jones. "Where the hell is everybody?"

"Dr. Ke

The President looked as if his head was about to pop off. "Have you seen what he has?"

She shook her head. "But I've heard it's pretty serious stuff."

The President knew it was. He'd authorized some of it. "Valerie," he spoke through gritted teeth. "I want to be very clear about this. I want Albert Rudin destroyed. By tomorrow morning I want him working out of a broom closet on the fifth floor of the Capitol. I want to call in every political favor we're owed, and I want Rudin to feel like he's a leper."

Jones placed her hands in front of her as she were about to pray and then separated them and made a cautioning motion. "I don't think--"

"I don't want to hear excuses," snapped the President. "I just warned him. Remember?"

Jones nodded. She knew the President needed to vent and being the Chief of Staff meant that she was the chief ventee. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, the little prick went out, and despite my warnings, he continued to try and meddle in the affairs of the Executive Branch."

"He is the chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, sir."

"And he's a damn Democrat," yelled Hayes. "he's supposed to be on our side. I'm not supposed to have to worry about congressmen from my own party attacking me!"

"Sir, I know you're upset, but I need to caution you."

The President held up a hand like he was a traffic cop. "And I know you're my chief of staff, and you're trying to prevent me from doing anything stupid, but this time around, Valerie, there is no turning back. Albert Rudin has committed the cardinal sin of politics. He's stabbed his own President in the back. Everybody is watching now and only one of us is going to survive this."

Jones blinked several times and finally nodded. She would have to try again later when he had calmed down a bit. "What do you want me to do?"