says.
Maybe he’s going to play.
Bobby turns to the laptop and brings up the satellite maps on the flat-screen TV. He walks Zaydan down the highway from Baghdad to Abu Ghraib and then over the bridge and south into Yusufiyah, but stops short of the farmhouse that Abu Ali gave us.
“Keep going south,” Zaydan says.
Bobby scrolls the map to the south. We all watch the thin trail of orange dirt below the cursor as the map continues to move.
“There,” Zaydan says. “That house next to the road.”
It is the same one Abu Ali noted. Either that place is significant, or they’ve all been told to give that house up should they be captured.
“What is this house?” Bobby asks.
“They have meetings there,” Zaydan says.
Bobby decides to press. “Zaydan, this is extremely helpful. Thank you.”
“I am grateful to you, my friend. My family is everything.”
“Then help us keep them safe. Give us the name of your boss.”
Zaydan shakes his head firmly. “I cannot. If I were to do that…” He falters.
Hadir waits for him to finish. When he doesn’t, he shrugs at Bobby.
“Zaydan? We’ve offered you an olive branch of friendship here.”
“I know. I cannot tell you more.”
I don’t think he’s loyal to Al Qaida. He’s afraid of whomever he works for, and we won’t be able to quell that fear.
Bobby senses this, too. “Okay, Zaydan. Just know that we’ll always reach out to you, buddy, no matter what you do.”
“Thank you, my friend, thank you.”
We end the interrogation. Zaydan goes back to his holding cell. He’ll be transferred to Abu Ghraib tonight. He’ll eventually be tried in court and, because of his role in aidingsuicide bombings, he’ll get the death sentence and hang. If he’s really lucky, he’ll only get life in one of Iraq’s Shia-run prisons, which is the same as death.
As Bobby and I walk back to the ’gator pit, I ask, “That’s amazing that you realized the bomber hit Zaydan’s compound.”
“Yeah, it struck me after I left.”
“How’d you get the marine commander on the phone so quickly?”
Bobby stops in mid-stride. He turns to me with a wicked half-smile and says, “I didn’t.”
I’m confused. “What do you mean?”
“There was no one on the other end of the line. Fucking phone doesn’t even work.”
Love is the ultimate weapon.
Six
THE BURNING HOUSE
H EY, MATTHEW,” CLIFF says to me as I arrive the following morning.
“What’s up, Cliff?”
“Check out this video. We just got it from the SF guys.”
I walk over to Cliff’s desktop. Bobby’s already there. Cliff explains, “This was taken by one of the SF teams. They were hitting one of the safe houses Abu Ali gave up, right? Well, as they approached, they started taking fire.”
“What did they do?” I ask.
“Watch.”
Cliff starts the video. It shows a white, flat-roofed house with a white sedan parked nearby. It appears to be a tranquil daylight scene taken by someone on the ground less than a hundred yards from the house.
After twenty seconds of this, Bobby gets impatient. “Boring Cliff. Come on.”
Suddenly, the house disintegrates. Pieces of masonry fly in all directions. Smoke billows out and up, swallowing the white car. Secondary explosions follow, throwing more smoke and debris into the air. When it clears, the house is gone. Only a heap of burning rubble remains.
“Boring, eh?” Cliff says snidely. “The SF guys called in an air strike. Didn’t want to risk entering the house with possible suicide bombers inside.” He pulls out a bottle of nasal spray and uses it. “Sorry.” Like all new arrivals to our piece of Iraq, he’s contracted a sinus infection.
Bobby has an idea. “You know, Matthew, we can use this with Abu Ali.”
“What do you mean, like a Love of Comrade approach?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’ll work. Very risky.”
Bobby shrugs. “He’s not talking now and he’s on his way out. Let’s
Maybe he’s going to play.
Bobby turns to the laptop and brings up the satellite maps on the flat-screen TV. He walks Zaydan down the highway from Baghdad to Abu Ghraib and then over the bridge and south into Yusufiyah, but stops short of the farmhouse that Abu Ali gave us.
“Keep going south,” Zaydan says.
Bobby scrolls the map to the south. We all watch the thin trail of orange dirt below the cursor as the map continues to move.
“There,” Zaydan says. “That house next to the road.”
It is the same one Abu Ali noted. Either that place is significant, or they’ve all been told to give that house up should they be captured.
“What is this house?” Bobby asks.
“They have meetings there,” Zaydan says.
Bobby decides to press. “Zaydan, this is extremely helpful. Thank you.”
“I am grateful to you, my friend. My family is everything.”
“Then help us keep them safe. Give us the name of your boss.”
Zaydan shakes his head firmly. “I cannot. If I were to do that…” He falters.
Hadir waits for him to finish. When he doesn’t, he shrugs at Bobby.
“Zaydan? We’ve offered you an olive branch of friendship here.”
“I know. I cannot tell you more.”
I don’t think he’s loyal to Al Qaida. He’s afraid of whomever he works for, and we won’t be able to quell that fear.
Bobby senses this, too. “Okay, Zaydan. Just know that we’ll always reach out to you, buddy, no matter what you do.”
“Thank you, my friend, thank you.”
We end the interrogation. Zaydan goes back to his holding cell. He’ll be transferred to Abu Ghraib tonight. He’ll eventually be tried in court and, because of his role in aidingsuicide bombings, he’ll get the death sentence and hang. If he’s really lucky, he’ll only get life in one of Iraq’s Shia-run prisons, which is the same as death.
As Bobby and I walk back to the ’gator pit, I ask, “That’s amazing that you realized the bomber hit Zaydan’s compound.”
“Yeah, it struck me after I left.”
“How’d you get the marine commander on the phone so quickly?”
Bobby stops in mid-stride. He turns to me with a wicked half-smile and says, “I didn’t.”
I’m confused. “What do you mean?”
“There was no one on the other end of the line. Fucking phone doesn’t even work.”
Love is the ultimate weapon.
Six
THE BURNING HOUSE
H EY, MATTHEW,” CLIFF says to me as I arrive the following morning.
“What’s up, Cliff?”
“Check out this video. We just got it from the SF guys.”
I walk over to Cliff’s desktop. Bobby’s already there. Cliff explains, “This was taken by one of the SF teams. They were hitting one of the safe houses Abu Ali gave up, right? Well, as they approached, they started taking fire.”
“What did they do?” I ask.
“Watch.”
Cliff starts the video. It shows a white, flat-roofed house with a white sedan parked nearby. It appears to be a tranquil daylight scene taken by someone on the ground less than a hundred yards from the house.
After twenty seconds of this, Bobby gets impatient. “Boring Cliff. Come on.”
Suddenly, the house disintegrates. Pieces of masonry fly in all directions. Smoke billows out and up, swallowing the white car. Secondary explosions follow, throwing more smoke and debris into the air. When it clears, the house is gone. Only a heap of burning rubble remains.
“Boring, eh?” Cliff says snidely. “The SF guys called in an air strike. Didn’t want to risk entering the house with possible suicide bombers inside.” He pulls out a bottle of nasal spray and uses it. “Sorry.” Like all new arrivals to our piece of Iraq, he’s contracted a sinus infection.
Bobby has an idea. “You know, Matthew, we can use this with Abu Ali.”
“What do you mean, like a Love of Comrade approach?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’ll work. Very risky.”
Bobby shrugs. “He’s not talking now and he’s on his way out. Let’s
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