Page 98 of Whisper
“Kris!” Director Thatcher glowered at him.
“I was there,in Afghanistan!” Kris barreled ahead. “My team walked through the remains of al-Qaeda camps. We read through the training manuals al-Qaeda had for their chemical and biological weapons program. You know where everything came from? The United States. Most all of their manuals were reprinted United States military training manuals. Not a single piece of information we picked up from their training camps came from Iraq!”
“Al-Shayk is a senior al-Qaeda officer and in charge of military operations. He is exactly the right person to know about external outreach attempts by al-Qaeda.”
“And his information is dead wrong, obviously falsified to stop his abuse. He only said that two people were sent. He can’t say who. He can’t say where. He can’t say who in Iraq he planned the training with. He can’t say when these two trainees supposedly returned. His intelligence, for all intents and purposes, is worthless!”
“The information is exactly what he said it was. Al-Qaeda and Saddam Hussein, working together. Saddam, sharing his chemical and biological weapons technology with terrorists.”
“Mr. Vice President, al-Shayk intentionally misled his interrogators. He lied.”
Flashes of memory came at Kris from all sides, monkey trills in the jungle and the sound of rain, Paul’s sneer. Water being poured. “In my experience questioning Abu Zahawi, I discovered that al-Qaeda is anticipating the United States’ invasion of Iraq. Zahawi asked me if the US had invaded yet. They’re waiting for your attack. They want you to take out Saddam. They’re no friend of his.”
“And why would they want us to take out Saddam?” The vice president’s voice had dropped, like he was suffering through a conversation with a child.
“Because their apocalyptic prophecies foretell it.”
The vice president tossed his head back and laughed.
“‘If you see the black banners coming from Khorasan, join that army, even if you have to crawl over ice; no power will be able to stop them’.” Kris quoted. “‘And they will finally reach Jerusalem, where they will erect their flags’. Khorasan. Afghanistan. The land of the Hindu Kush. Bin Laden has been using this hadith for years, drawing his fighters to his vision of a holy war. He’s always wanted to push the fight toward Iraq. To turn Iraq into the next Afghanistan, and then onward, until they strike Jerusalem. Until they take out the West.”
The vice president stopped chuckling.
“This is the fulfillment of their prophecies, Mr. Vice President.”
He blinked. Stared at Kris from under his furrowed brow. Tossed his pen onto his folders. “Tell me, then, about Saqqaf.”
Kris’s gut clenched. The floor seemed to drop away, a swirling vortex opening beneath his feet.
“You, out of everyone, know about Saqqaf.” The vice president’s head cocked to one side. “I’ve read all the cables.”
“Saqqaf is a thug. According to the Jordanian Mukhabarat, he was a drunk and a gang member, and when his family tried to straighten him out with religion, he went overboard. He found a new addiction and a new outlet for his rage and his cruelty. He went to Afghanistan and he begged to meet Bin Laden. Wanted to join up. But Bin Laden was disgusted by him.” Kris flipped through his notes, cables from Jordanian intelligence, reports from his interrogations of Zahawi. “In my interrogations, Zahawi said there was a man named Saqqaf who operated a training camp near Herat. He was unsophisticated. Crude. He didn’t have a good command of Islam, Zahawi said. He wanted to be a part of al-Qaeda, but al-Qaeda wouldn’t have him. He promised to open a foothold in the Near East if they backed him. He was put on a probation of sorts. They asked Saqqaf to set up a training camp. They’d provide the funds if he provided the training. They wanted to see what he could do.”
“They provided the funds,” the vice president repeated. “He was affiliated with al-Qaeda.”
“No. He never swore allegiance to Bin Laden. Bin Laden wanted nothing to do with him.”
“But he came to Kandahar to fight against the Americans. With al-Qaeda, during the invasion of Afghanistan.”
“We attacked all foreign fighters in Afghanistan—all the fighters allied against us. That included other units besides al-Qaeda.” Majid, in the mountains with David, had fought both for and against the Taliban, both against and for the Americans. Alliances had shifted faster than the sun rose and set. It had seemed like any choice could have been made there, on the roof of the world. Any choice, any direction. Nothing was clear, nothing.
“After Kandahar, what happened to Saqqaf?”
Kris felt like his words were nails, broken glass he had to chew through. “Saqqaf made his way through the mountains of Iran to northern Iraq,” he said slowly. “Our intelligence places him in Kurdistan right now. He’s joined Ansar al-Islam, a radical Islamist group.”
“A radical Islamist group aligned with al-Qaeda. Operating within Iraq’s borders.”
“Ansar al-Islam operates in the Kurdish north, in an area out of reach of Saddam. It’s protected by our no-fly zones, Mr. Vice President.”
“Saddam has given sanctuary to this group, and to Saqqaf. He’s allowed a known member of al-Qaeda freedom to operate in Iraq, to continue to operate an al-Qaeda-affiliated terror group on Iraq soil.”
“Saddam has barely any presence in the Kurdish north. He has no control there. We’ve kept him out of the north. We gave room for Ansar al-Islam to take root and grow. We protected the area from any incursions through our no-fly zone after the first Gulf War.”
“Mr. Caldera, where did this intelligence on Saqqaf originate?”
It felt like a trap, suddenly. Because it was. Kris fumed. “From my own interrogations of Zahawi.”
“During yourpersonalquestioning of Zahawi?”
