“Even if the guy was a known terrorist, from a PR standpoint I still don’t think this is how we would have wanted it to go down for the cameras,” replied Anderson as he watched the president pace.
“You know what I’m trying to say. Our credibility is so thin over there, all you have to do is hold it up to a light bulb and you can see through it. We talk about being a just nation-a nation that observes the rule of law, a place where people are innocent until proven guilty-but those are only words, aren’t they? And what speaks a thousand words? Pictures. And what pictures are being watched the world over by anyone who has turned on a television set in the last eight hours? A faceless American soldier beating the pulp out of an Iraqi fruit stall vendor. What a picture that made, straight out of Central Casting. A uniformed American GI and a typical local citizen complete with turban. “
“It was actually a kaffiyeh, sir, not a turban. There’s a difference.”
“I know there’s a difference, and you don’t have to tell me,” barked Rutledge. “I saw the footage.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, sir.”
“My point is that we can’t just talk the talk. We have to walk that talk-all of us. From the lowliest buck private all the way to the people working in this building. Damn it. Just when it seemed we were getting some PR traction in that part of the world, this happens.”
Anderson waited a moment for the president to cool down and said, “There may be a piece of information that could work to our favor in all of this.”
Rutledge stopped pacing for a moment and raised his eyebrows. “Really? Like what? Are you going to tell me that the attack was self-defense somehow? Maybe the fruit vendor was selling bad dates, because if he was, then this whole thing is okay, isn’t it? I mean, if this guy had the balls to sell bad dates, then the gloves understandably come off. God knows we’re not a nation that stands for bad dates, and heaven help any fruit vendor who tries to sell them to us.”
The chief of staff knew that the president was only one step away from blowing his stack and decided to tread very lightly. “The fruit vendor’s stall was nowhere near where this incident took place. In fact, it’s completely on the other side of Baghdad. He should have been manning his stall when this all went down, but it turns out he paid one of his cousins, and not a small amount of money, to man it for him.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because somebody paid him even more money to take the day off and hang out a couple of blocks from the al-Karim bazaar.”
“Who? And why?”
“The Iraqi Security Forces have been trying to get that out of him, but the man claims he doesn’t know,” said Anderson. “And before you make any remarks about the effectiveness of the Iraqi Security Forces, keep in mind that they were almost immediately on the scene at al-Karim and shut the al-Jazeera crew down before they could get our soldier’s face on tape. We’re lucky that it was all shot from behind.”
“Who cares if they got his face? They got that little two-by-three-inch patch with the stars and stripes on his upper arm,” said the president, not at all convinced there was anything positive about this catastrophe. “That’s all they needed to get.”
“True,” said Anderson, “but the fact that his face wasn’t shown will definitely help buy us a little more time.”
“Time? Time for what? Time to hope this story will just fade away, because that’s not going to happen. This isn’t something we can claim ignorance of and quietly sweep under the rug. People are incensed, Chuck. The entire Muslim world is up in arms. They see this as a direct attack on Islam and are literally out for blood. I’ve been asked by no less than four governments in the region to hand the soldier over once he’s been ID’d so he can stand trial under Islamic law. Not only has every two-bit imam across the region issued a fatwa against him, the U.S. Military, and the United States in general, but some of these people are calling for a war crimes tribunal in the Hague.”
“Well, if the Muslims want to try our soldier, they’ll have to take a number, because the Democrats on the Hill are already calling for their own hearings.”
The president sat back down in his chair and massaged his temples with the heels of his hands. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“We are in an election year.”
“Even if it weren’t an election year, it wouldn’t matter. Our side would be all over this as well if the situation was reversed. This is just too juicy to pass up. “Looking up, he asked, “Who’s leading the charge?”
“Helen Carmichael,” replied Anderson. “And here’s the kicker-she wants the hearings televised.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me either?”
“It shouldn’t. She’s looking to score major points with her party before Governor Farnsworth’s campaign team and the DNC nail down who the number two person on their ticket is going to be. What’s surprising, though, is that she’s launching the hearings from her own seat on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence.”
That did surprise Rutledge. “The Intelligence Committee? What the hell for? This doesn’t have anything to do with them. Why isn’t she giving it to Armed Services?”
“We think it’s because she smells blood in the water.”
“Of course she smells blood in the water. We’re hemorrhaging. Islamic fundamentalists are going to use that al-Jazeera footage as a perpetual recruiting tool, and it’s going to work. Thousands of Muslim youth who might not otherwise have signed up are going to be asking themselves, What if that was someone I loved or cared about being beaten by an American soldier? We handed them this one on a silver platter. It’s going to take us decades to recover. But that still doesn’t explain what possible interest the Intelligence Committee could have in holding hearings on this.”
“You might change your mind about the committee’s interest once you know who the American in the al-Jazeera footage is,” said Anderson.
The president leaned forward in his chair. “Who’s got him? The Army? Do they know who he is?”
“The Army doesn’t have him, and they don’t know who he is.”
Rutledge waited for the other shoe to drop, but when Anderson didn’t say anything, his mind started turning. “I don’t suppose this guy is a private contractor we can plausibly disavow?”
“We’re not going to be that lucky on this one. If it was a contractor, this entire thing would be over already.”
“He’s an operator then, isn’t he?” said the president.
Anderson nodded his head. “Part of one of the direct action teams authorized by the DOD and this office.”
“Is he CIA?”
“I don’t think you should know any more at this point. There’s a good chance Carmichael is going to be issuing subpoenas, and I don’t doubt there’ll be one with your name on it.”
“My name? What the hell for?”
“We’ve got him on a C130 en route to Andrews Air Force Base right now. He won’t be on the ground until much later tonight. In the morning, there’ll be a thorough debriefing, and afterwards I’ll come to you and we can talk. In the meantime, I’d rather you stay outside the loop on this.”
Rutledge had known his chief of staff long enough to trust his judgment. Shielding the president from political fallout was part of Anderson ’s job. “Until the morning, but that’s it,” said Rutledge. “Now, what about Carmichael? Does she know we’ve got him?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet,” replied Anderson.
“Does she know who he is?”
“She’s got her teeth into something, and she’s working around the clock turning over every rock in town.”
“Well, if we’ve got him, then we have to get out in front of this story and control how it unfolds. I don’t care about the elections. They don’t supersede the sanctity of this office. We’re going to do the right thing on this, and if it means this operative has to take one for the team, then he’s going to have to take one for the team,” said the president.