The Network - Jason Elliot [68]
‘What are the chances of getting him?’ I ask.
‘Take away some of the more hare-brained schemes and we’ve still got a good option set,’ she says. The technology to launch a cruise missile strike against bin Laden is all there. There are submarines in the Persian Gulf ready to unleash their weapons. But the White House can’t afford to repeat the spectacularly inconsequential strikes that took place in response to the African bombings in 1998, when a hundred million dollars’ worth of cruise missiles were fired into one of bin Laden’s training camps, where he was said to be holding a jihadist summit meeting. Twenty or thirty volunteer fighters, mostly Pakistanis, were killed as the missiles blasted the Afghan dust and rock. Bin Laden, it is said, had left the meeting a few hours earlier. But the failure gave him the best publicity for his cause that he could have dreamed of. Now the political climate isn’t right for another strike in any case. At the time, says Grace, the great American public was really only interested in one thing: the contents of Monica Lewinsky’s cheeks.
For legal and constitutional reasons, the CIA cannot sponsor or assist the assassination of an individual. They can, however, capture him. But bin Laden is both elusive and careful. His closest guards are not Afghans but Arabs, hard-core fighters from jihadist campaigns around the world. He is frequently on the move. At his compound in Tarnak near Kandahar, every inch of which has been scrutinised by Grace’s team, there are women and children, another reason to rule out further cruise missile strikes. Earlier hopes of enlisting Massoud’s men to kill bin Laden are dwindling, and the director of the CIA, the DCI, won’t approve American intervention on the ground. It’s been tried and failed. The White House and State Department, who between themselves are too dumb, says Grace, to tell a skunk from a house cat, are so tied up in legal knots they can’t formulate a coherent policy towards Afghanistan.
‘But there is a plan,’ she says. ‘We’re going to fire up the intelligence collection on bin Laden all around the country, and with the help of Massoud’s informers and agents the net will surely close. Doesn’t too much matter if it’s Massoud’s boys, SF, the Paks or the Uzbeks who bring him in,’ she says. ‘Doubt if it’ll be special forces who’ll get it done,’ she adds with a scoff. ‘You could put bin Laden in a room with a Seal and a Delta and they’d kill each other before they even noticed him.’ But it’s clear what she’s hoping. The successful capture of bin Laden will convince the White House to supply Massoud with greater levels of military supplies and put political pressure on the Taliban leadership. Only then might they give up on their designs to control the entire country.
‘It’s a tough row to hoe,’ says Grace, ‘but it’s the only hope there is to roll back the Taliban and all the hotheads fixing to spread jihad across the universe. Sure would make a world of difference if we had one good asset inside Obi-Wan’s camp.’
At the mention of this I look away, lest anything in my expression betray my thoughts. She can have no idea that my best friend has been assigned to this very task – nor that I have no idea whether he is alive or dead.
We turn left off Dolley Madison into a quiet road lined with trees. About a hundred yards along there’s a security post and a chevroned barrier. The windows come down and our IDs are entered into an electronic log by a guard, who peers inside the car and acknowledges Grace with a nod and a smile. The barrier lifts and the road curves to the left. There are trees on one side and an enormous car park on the other, beyond which the main complex of buildings rises like a giant cake with layers of cream and chocolate. Footpaths lit by miniature lamp posts snake between the buildings and lend a faint suggestion of amusement park. Grace sees me looking.
‘Somebody up there loves you, Tony.’ I’m not at all sure what she means.
‘On the seventh floor, I mean. That’s where the clearance comes from. These boys