EIGHT.
King Hussein became
masterful at playing both sides of the fence, taking money from
both his Arab brothers and America. With great care he put his
country on a course of neutrality and did not deviate even during
the Gulf War. Despite immense pressure from the United States and
Saudi Arabia, King Hussein chose not to jump into the fray.
Publicly he
proclaimed that he would not take part in the butchering of the
Iraqi people, privately he told his keepers that it would serve
them better if a channel of communication was kept open with
Baghdad.
King Hussein
convinced President Bush that the Jordanian General Intelligence
Department would provide him with invaluable information about what
was going on inside Iraq. The Bush administration agreed and in
return for cooperation with the General Intelligence Department the
foreign aid spigot of the United States was only reduced instead of
completely shut off.
At the time the
agreement was reached King Hussein had no idea just how fruitful it
would eventually be for his kingdom. During the years of sanctions
that followed the Gulf War, Jordan became the lifeline of Iraq.
Goods flowed in from Jordan like a river to the sea, and in
exchange Jordanian coffers were filled with profits made from
selling discounted Iraqi oil. Black market import-export companies
sprang up in Jordan like weeds on an unkempt lawn. The French were
the first to arrive, and they were quickly followed by many of
their European neighbors and then the Chinese and the rest of the
Pacific Rim and Asia. Jordan got a cut of everything and the entire
racket became a massive boon to the Jordanian economy. All the
while, with a wink and a nod, Jordan maintained her position of
neutrality.
Amman was the place
where Saddam's henchmen came to replenish the ruler's military
supplies and shop for his grocery list of weapons of mass
destruction. It was also where the CIA and Britain 's MI6 focused
an increasing amount of their resources. Amman had become the
Middle East's version of Cold War Berlin. Any country that was big
enough to care had spies on the ground in Amman, and with so many
intelligence agencies operating in the city it was almost
impossible to do business without someone noticing.
That was why David
had chosen to meet his Iraqi contact in the Jordanian capital. He
wanted to settle a score, send a message and muddy the waters in
one fell swoop. David's connection to Prince Omar and the Saudi
royal family needed to be protected at all costs.
Yes, the Iraqis could
provide money to the cause, but nothing compared to the Saudis. If
the grand plan did not go as he hoped, David wanted to be able to
point the Israelis and the Americans and anyone else who cared in
the direction of Saddam Hussein. He did not want them to go looking
in the kingdom of Saudi Arabia for him.
The green Range Rover
snaked its way up Al Ameer Mohammed Street toward one of Amman 's
famous seven hills. Night had fallen on the city and they were
headed for the Intercontinental Hotel. It was Amman 's finest
hotel, and the arrogant man David was going to meet would stay
nowhere else. David sat in the backseat and went over the plan one
more time. He had carefully applied a black beard flecked with gray
to his face and had added a touch of gray to his eyebrows.
Over his hair he was
wearing the black-and-white keffiyeh of a Palestinian.
As they neared the
hotel he put on a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and checked his
disguise with a small mirror. He looked a good fifteen years older.
He had met with the Iraqi on six previous occasions and he had worn
the same disguise each time.
David trusted very
few people, and none of them were Iraqis. He had caught them in
many lies during his business dealings with them, but in truth he
had expected nothing less. They were the bullies of the
neighborhood, and in the Middle East there was no shortage of
bullies.
The Iraqis made up
the rules and then changed them again when they didn't like the way
things were going. David despised them for the way they feigned
concern over the Palestinian plight. The truth was that there
wasn't a single Iraqi who truly cared for the Palestinians. To
Saddam and his henchmen the Palestinians were nothing more than a
lightning rod to attract anti-Semitism and hatred for
America.
As the Range Rover
pulled up to the front of the hotel, David was focused on the task
at hand. Tonight the blood bath would begin. If things went right
it would be the first step in a long odyssey that would change the
face of Middle East politics. It takes war to make peace and
tonight would be the first shot in David's war.
He stepped from the
vehicle and buttoned the jacket of his double-breasted blue suit.
His posture slouched and his stride shortened, he moved toward the
door of the hotel playing the role of an older man. The doors were
opened by two bellmen who greeted David warmly. They knew him only
as Mohammed Rashid, a Palestinian businessman who had strong ties
to the PLO. David continued through the lobby, his Prada loafers
clicking on the marble floor. He entered the bar and peered through
the smoke-filled haze. The man he was looking for was seated in the
far corner, his back to the wall like he was some cowboy in an
American film. Two of his bodyguards were seated at the adjacent
table and were eyeing the rest of the patrons, their menacing
stares reminding everyone to mind their own business.
All three men had
bushy black mustaches, a prerequisite for anyone in Saddam's inner
circle.
David approached the
table with feigned enthusiasm.
"General Hamza, it is
so good to see you again."
Hamza did not offer
his hand. He simply looked at the chair opposite him and nodded for
his guest to sit. The Iraqi general took a drag from his unfiltered
cigarette and said, "You are late."
"I am sorry," David
lied, "but I had a hard time getting through the
checkpoints."
Looking down at the
two attaché cases on the floor next to him, Hamza replied, "You'd
better have a better plan for getting back with these. If you lose
them, I will have your head."
David nodded
effusively.
"General, I will not
allow your money to fall into the hands of the Zionist pigs."
The general reached
for his drink with the same hand that held the cigarette. Never
taking his eyes off the Palestinian he said, "For your own good,
you'd better make sure you do not allow that to happen."
David again nodded
and eagerly assured the general that no such thing could ever
possibly occur. The two attaché cases contained a million dollars
apiece in U.S. hundred-dollar bills. It was money for Hamas and
Hezbollah to continue their terrorist insurgency into Israel.
General Hamza was not
a man to be taken lightly, but David was far from intimidated. The
head of Saddam's Amn al Khas, or Special Security Service, was a
brute, and brutes were easy to trick.
Hamza's thuggish
behavior was legendary. In Iraq his name was spoken in whispers. He
was responsible for entire families disappearing in the middle of
the night, never to be seen or heard from again. On his orders, men
and women were tortured and beaten for months simply because they
knew someone who had been deemed a traitor to Saddam. Often, Hamza
allowed those physically and mentally scarred subjects to live so
that they could return to their communities and serve as living,
walking, horrific, disfigured proof of what happened to people who
went against Saddam. In any civilized society Hamza's behavior and
tactics would be deemed inhumane at the least, but what made his
actions all the more reprehensible was that the overwhelming
majority of the people he had tortured and killed had done nothing
wrong. In the twisted world Saddam had created for himself, he was
convinced there were spies everywhere, traitors lurking in every
city and every part of his government. There was a purge at least
once a year and if the SSS didn't come up with bodies Saddam would
turn his paranoid rage on the SSS instead. To avoid having his own
head put on the chopping block, Hamza made sure his people found
traitors.
Guilty or not, they
found them, they tortured them until they would say anything to
stop the pain, and then they executed them.
It wasn't as if the
Arab world was blameless when it came to such thuggery, it was just
the brazen way Iraq went about it and the sheer volume of
intimidation and torture that occurred. David could deal with
brutality. He didn't like it but he could handle it. There was
something else about the general, something that really turned his
stomach, and it was for that reason alone that he would enjoy
killing him.
A waiter approached
and placed a napkin and a fresh drink on the table for Hamza. The
man then asked David if he'd like something to drink. The general
nodded his consent and David ordered a scotch and soda.
Hamza polished off
the last few sips of his drink and then wiped several droplets of
whiskey from his mustache.
"I've decided to cut
your fee. We're spending a lot of money on you and not getting
enough back. You need to step up the bombing against Israel."
The fee the general
was referring to had already been cut once. It had started at ten
percent and dropped to five. It was David's cut for acting as an
intermediary. David feigned concern. He had no personal use for
counterfeit U.S. money, but he had to at least play the part.
"But I have already
cut my fee once."
"And you will cut it
again." Hamza leaned back confidently and sucked on his cigarette
until the end glowed a bright orange. After he'd exhaled the smoke
in David's direction he smiled and said, "You are doing your people
a service. The honorable thing to do would be to take no fee at
all."
Honor had nothing to
do with it. When David's fee was reduced the money was not passed
along to Hamas and Hezbollah. It was pocketed by the general. David
was tempted to point out that they were in this together. Arab
brothers arm in arm doing battle against the Israelis, but he
decided to leave the general's hypocrisy unchallenged. He needed
the money for the next part of his plan and the fact that it was
counterfeit was all the better.
His drink arrived and
in a defensive tone he said, "But General, the cost of doing
business in my land is very expensive. Many people need to be paid
to assure the safe transfer of your very much appreciated
funds."
"You should be paying
no one," snarled Hamza.
"You should slit the
throat of the first person who gets in your way. Hamas and
Hezbollah are on a mission from Allah and anyone who trifles with
them should be dealt with harshly." The general shook his head in
disgust.
"You will never
defeat the Israelis until you learn to control your own
people."
Biting down on his
tongue to restrain himself from smiling, David nodded thoughtfully.
He and the general had arrived at the same conclusion, but for
different reasons. David would unite the Palestinian people and he
would start by killing the arrogant Iraqi brute who was sitting
across from him.