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  ROGUE STATE

  Douglas De Bono

  An Eagle One Media E-Publication

  ROGUE STATE

  By

  DOUGLAS DE BONO

  ROGUE STATE

  Douglas De Bono

  Table of Contents

  Map

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue

  Part 1 The Real War

  Part 2 Hunters and Prey

  Part 3 Days of Rage

  Part 4 Uncertain Ground

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Cast of Characters

  (Listed in order of appearance)

  Iranians and Iraqis:

  Ayatollah Kambiz Abbasi– Senior Member of Iran’s Ruling Council

  Saddam Hussein– Iraq’s Head of State

  Uday Hussein– Saddam Hussein’s son

  Chechens:

  Shamil Basayev– Top field commander for the Chechen Rebels. Unconfirmed reports suggest he was KIA in December 2000.

  Parvez Hyder– American citizen and Chechen freedom fighter

  Lecha Dudayev– Chechen field commander (KIA)

  Khunkarpasha Israpilov– Chechen field commander (KIA)

  Aslambek Ismailov– Chechen field commander (KIA)

  Akhmed Zakayev– Chechen field commander; still alive as of this writing

  Dzhokhar Dudayev– Former Soviet Air Force General and First Chechen President. He was killed in 1996 by a rocket attack.

  Ilyas Talkhadov– Command Chechen Presidential Guards (KIA)

  Akhmad Dzhabayev– Chechen field commander (KIA)

  Elisa Hyder– Parvez’s mother

  Marianna Hyder– Parvez’s sister

  Doku Uramov– Chechen field commander (KIA)

  Aslan Maskhadov –President of Chechnya

  Ibn-ul-Khattab –Top field commander for the Chechen rebels

  Russians:

  Vladimir Putin– President of the Russian Federation

  Boris Yeltsin– Former President of the Russian Federation

  Leonid Reiman– Communications Minister

  Captain Eduard Gurov– FSB Officer

  Vice Admiral Viktor Patrushev- Chief of Naval Operations for the General Staff

  General Anatoly Kvashnin –Chief of the General Staff of the Armed Forces

  Igor Sergeyev– Defense Minister

  Vladimir Rushaylo– Interior Minister

  Pavel Chobota– Former SVR Chief of Station, Panama (deceased)

  Iafim Raosav– Current SVR Chief of Station, Panama

  Gennadiy Panferkov– SVR Chief of Station, Washington D.C.

  Major General Anatoly Mikh– Russian Field Commander (deceased)

  Igor Ivanov– Foreign Minister

  Lt. General Sergei Lebedev– Head of the SVR

  Sergei Yastrzhemsky– Red Army press attaché

  Americans:

  Conner Fadden– Former Special Forces Soldier

  Harvey Randall– Former FBI agent

  Damon Layne– Freelance mercenary associated with the Lexington Compact

  Louis Edwards– CIA Officer and head of theBlackest of the Black

  Major Jim Harper– Special Forces (Retired)

  Sergeant Darby Hayes– Force Recon USMC

  Irv Fredricks– Domestic Terrorist

  Ron Babcock– Domestic Terrorist

  Lt. General George Carnady– National Security Agency and Louis Edwards’ partner

  Brian Stillwell– Exotic Weapon Expert and DOD contractor

  Mister Smith– Louis Edwards’ bodyguard

  Mister Jones– Louis Edwards’ bodyguard

  Lynn Harper– Jim Harper’s wife and best friend

  Jonas Benjamin– CIA analyst

  Maggie Benjamin– Jonas’ wife

  Mark Schaeffer– Lawyer

  Ezra James– US Customs Officer

  Adrian Bridger– Member of the Lexington Compact, A.K.AThe Fixer

  Isaac Timmerman– Contract killer

  Kurt Martin– Contract killer

  Allan and Jayne Skinner– Federal employees

  Detective Kevin Crosby– Chicago Police Department

  Alicia Montgomery– Congressman Russell Bronski’s personal maid

  Congressman Russell Bronski– Member of the Illinois delegation

  Detective Moses Finney– D.C. Metropolitan Police Department

  Captain Josh Kirsten– USN submarine commander

  Lawrence Halliwell- Computer geek employed by Adrian Bridger

  Kenny Caan- Computer geek employed by Adrian Bridger

  Harmony– New York pimp and drug dealer

  Stoney– Harmony’s bodyguard

  Haley Dickinson– Senate aide sometimes called the Dwarf

  Carl Elsing– Owner of theGay Chance

  Sheriff Jeremy Dillard– Virginia Beach cop

  Congressman Jacob Malden– Lost his last election

  Lt. Commander Nancy Hoyle– Assigned IUSS (USN)

  Tom Cochran– IUSS civilian contractor

  Terri Finley– 17-year-old member of thePhreaks

  Clinton Kennedy– WASA supervisor

  Hayden Burke– Damon Layne’s former partner (status unknown)

  FBI:

  Lou Feldman– Assistant Director in charge of Domestic Terrorism Unit

  Rita Mason– Lou Feldman’s administrative assistant

  Dwayne Morton– Domestic terrorism SAC for eastern United States

  Ellen Grafft– Domestic terrorism SAC for middle United States

  Cecil Bixby– Domestic terrorism SAC for western United States

  Mary Kirsten– Computer expert and den mother to thePhreaks

  Janet Henry– Chief architect for CYCLOPS

  USS Springfield:

  Captain Jeff Andrews– COUSS Springfield

  Danny Henderson– Sonar operator.

  Chief Watson– Chief of the Boat

  Chinese:

  Goldenrod– Master Spy, People’s Republic of China

  Dr. Richard Hansen– Chinese spy and American traitor (deceased)

  Others:

  Nigel Turner– Reporter for the London telegraph

  Commander Zeto– Panamanian drug runner (deceased)

  Major Paco Cruz– DGI Officer Panama (deceased)

  Captain Miguel Sanchez– Panamanian National Police

  PROLOGUE

  Washington D.C.,AP,June 1, 2000 –The U.S. State Department has traditionally labeled the following countries as state sponsors of international terrorism: Cuba, Iran, Iraq, Libya, North Korea, Sudan and Syria.

  As of June 1, 2000, the State Department officially stopped referring to these nations by the termrogue nations, and instead identified them asstates of concern .

  According to the State Department, some of these countries have embarked on a more democratic internal life. State Department spokesmen cited Iran’s election of reformist parliamentary candidates and North Korea’s decision to halt missile testing over the Japanese home islands.

  Shatt al Arab

  January 2000

  The three-car caravan shimmered under the hot sun and the desert heat. Even during the colder months, the land between Iraq and Iran sat like a hot griddle sizzling everything that crossed it. The sand was saturated with the blood of martyrs and infidels. During the eighties, the Iranian Mullahs sent human wave attacks over the broken and stony ground to meet the Russian-made, Iraqi-purchased artillery and machine gun emplacements. The world roared with jackhammer clarity and the thirsty sand sucked up the bloody carnage.

  Ayatollah Kambiz Abbasi had a new mandate in a land where blood and death were as common as sand and wind. Tehran had suffered a nuclear event. A low yield weapon had detonated a few short weeks ago. The explos
ive blast had killed thousands and shocked the world to the tragedy of the terrorist mentality. He feared the weapon was one of Russia’s suitcase-size nuclear weapons. A weapon similar to the ten purchased by Iran’s ruling Mullahs for use against the United States—the Great Satan.

  Innuendo and rumor became part of the general discourse as the Mullahs refused all Western aid and snubbed the cash-strapped Russians. Persia—Iran’s true name—did not need Western charity with its hangers-on of Christian missionaries and CIA spies. Persia was a great power, striving for the day when she would once again have the might to make the earth quake in her shadow—a missile-borne, nuclear-tipped shadow.

  Abbasi argued that they could not know which great power was responsible for the atrocity; therefore, both the Russian Bear and the American Eagle should be punished. The Mullahs, who drove the populace back to a thirteenth century mind set and sought to employ twenty-first century weapons, found the logic compelling. Their discussions were secret and stark. They did not play to an expectant media or seek to charm any special interest beyond themselves. They were both lawgivers and deathbringers. In the end, they agreed to Abbasi’s suggestions, and gave him charter to carry out the deed. After all, they sat atop a petroleum ocean, and the entire world would have to deal with them eventually. They feared no man, and believed they served God.

  * * * *

  Two white vans plunged over the dusty gravel. They crossed the border between Iraq and Iran at Abadan and snaked over the poorly maintained roads to the meeting place. Saddam Hussein—the Great leader—and his eldest son, Uday, rode together. Saddam’s grievance with the United States was legendary and his country continued to reel from the vengeful American presence.

  Kuwait and Saudi Arabia mouthed words regarding Arab Unity while American carrier task forces trolled the Persian Gulf, and launched strike aircraft to strafe and bomb his country. Monetary sanctions remained in place, and the meddlesome Americans continued to stir dissent with the Kurds to the north. His enmity for former President George Bush was palpable, and he had been tied to an unsuccessful assassination attempt when Bush visited Kuwait. It prompted President Clinton to launch over one hundred cruise missiles into Iraq.

  Conservatively, Iraq and Iran lost over a one million combatants on the ground where they met today. In the peculiar alchemy unique to the Middle East wherethe enemy of my enemy is my friend , the hated Americans proved to be the prime target for inheritors of the Babylonian and Persian Empires. Neither party broached the topic that once the Western interlopers were dispatched, the two great powers would meet again on the field of battle, and this time there would be no stalemate.

  Uday Hussein was considered by most analysts to be even more unstable and unpredictable than his father. He was also the heir apparent. If ruthlessness is a genetic trait, then Saddam Hussein was the procreator of the pure strain. Murder and terror were twin demons ravaging Iraq, and, less than nine precious years since the Gulf War, Saddam had managed to rebuild his army to one thousand battle tanks.

  The violent purveyors disembarked from their vehicles and walked to an open tent, a simple table, and hard benches. Saddam Hussein, Uday Hussein, and Kambiz Abbasi gathered over the hard ground to plot vengeance—a meal best served cold.

  Abbasi considered the rumors that Saddam suffered from cancer. Rumors also placed Iran as the perpetrator behind the 1997 assassination attempt on Uday. Neither man broached a subject that might jeopardize their tenuous alliance.

  The street-thug–turned–dictator coughed grievously and explained, “I’m not dead yet—if that’s what you are wondering.”

  Uday did nothing to comfort his father. It was curious enough that Uday still breathed, considering the rash of fratricide amongst his siblings. Saddam might actually be considering the needs of the future—although a future absent of Uday would certainly be more peaceful.

  They bantered and bargained like pair of Bedouin chieftains over water rights at a well. Both men knew they would reach a pact over this parlay. The prize was too delicious to resist. Once the broad outlines of the plan were secured, Saddam slammed his hand flat on the wooden table.

  “There is one more thing,” he rasped. His strength was fleeing his weakened body, and a nervous gaggle of doctors looked on from the second van. Their lives were forfeit should the Great Leader succumb on their watch.

  “Yes,” asked Abbasi cautiously.

  “Buuuusssshhh is running for the American Presidency—the son of my great enemy,” he wheezed.

  Running for Presidency and achieving the prize were two vastly different spectacles, but Abbasi continued to listen quietly.

  “If the son becomes President, then he too is part of this deal,” declared Saddam.

  Abbasi pursed his lips and nodded.

  PART 1

  The Real War

  “With the fall of Grozny, the war will enter its main stage, and this is when the Russian aggressors who have stayed alive will envy those who were already killed in combat. We will turn this land into real hell for Russians. The Russians should remember their lessons from the previous war - Chechens never surrender.”

  Abusalman Akhyadov

  Head of Chechnya’s

  National Security Service

  CHAPTER ONE

  Chechnya,London Telegraph,Nigel Turner, February 5, 2000 –Grozny is a capitol under siege. Artillery is lined up along the northern ridgeline and a ring of tanks and armored vehicles surround all avenues leading away from the city.

  Barking dogs and rifle shots break the night. Food is scarce and medical supplies are unknown. An oily, black smoke hovers above the city as rebel stronghold after stronghold have fallen to the advancing Russian troops. Yet, more than three thousand rebels have broken through the blockade and they are moving to join more than seven thousand in the southern mountains.

  Grozny, Chechnya

  February 5, 2000

  11:00 P.M. (GMT +3:00)

  A dark, gray pall hovered above Grozny, the Chechen capitol. Chechnya is a dusty Muslim republic hemmed in by Georgia, Ingushetia, Dagestan, and Russia. It is situated north of the Afghan border and east of Turkey. Grozny was a mixture of smoke, dust, and death. The city had been reduced to a pulverized skeleton because she had dared to defy the Russian Federation. Her paved streets were little more than gravel tracks punctuated by deep craters and bordered by leafless, blackened trees.

  Grozny was bleeding.

  Winter snow nestled up against rubble that had been mercilessly pounded by 240mm mortars, 152mm self-propelled guns, and 120mm howitzers. The inky, one-eyed vultures perched along the northern ridgeline above the city. Behind the artillery pieces lay a forest of felled, spent casings. The pile was enormous, as the Russians had bombarded the city these last four months.

  Grozny was dieing.

  The dust hung indistinguishable from the blue-gray smoke. The once proud state house had stretched majestically into the sky before the Russians returned. Today, it was little more than jagged concrete chunks and twisted metal. Homes and shop fronts were reduced to charred wood burnt beyond recognition, and endless rubble piles bracketed the boulevards. Drinking water and open sewers ran together, finding or creating rivers through the devastation.

  The Russians had returned.

  When the artillery north of the city rested, the sky filled with flying death and rained iron bombs. Concrete apartment buildings once festooned with bright curtains, and flower boxes became hollow-eyed specters teetering against the skyline. Man-made thunder boomed every minute of every hour of every day. The ground shuddered under the torment and large boulders were reduced to smaller ones. Nothing green survived; only the gray and burnt black ruins.

  The Russians knew only one way to fight.

  Widows and orphans huddled, wintered in ice-cold cellars without sufficient food or water. A moldy bread crust was a great meal, and boiled potatoes a hearty feast. Everyday in the labyrinth’s remains, a mother gave birth, a child cried, and another son was
buried. Only the rats ate well.

  The Chechens bled.

  The Russian Generals remembered 1996 and the failed attempt to snuff out freedom’s flame. This time they would not mindlessly send smooth-faced boys into the killing field at Minutka Square

  in the center of Grozny. When the Russians entered the city under the January skies, they came with tanks, armored personnel carriers, and a hundred thousand troops.

  The Russians bled too.

  Anyone found without proper identification papers (and there were many) were shoveled into ditches gouged out of the earth by the ridgeline artillery. Old men, pregnant women, and young boys were clustered together much the way the Nazis herded the Jews at Babi Yar. Even the rats surrendered the city to the Chechen rebels, and inevitably, the Chechens fled south towards the hills.

  And Grozny died.

  * * * *

  Beyond the dead city, Shamil Basayev—the rebel’s top field commander—led his men into the hills. He hobbled along on one leg and a crutch for his recently amputated foot. They were a rag tag, gritty line of men and boys. They had liberated most of their weapons from dead Russian soldiers, and all of their ammunition came from the Russian army. The average Russian soldier was only too happy to barter his rifle, ammunition pouch, or grenade string for a bowl of soup. In a curious way, foodbecame a weapon.

  Shamil permitted an English journalist from a paper he had never read to tag along. Nigel Turner was a flaccid fellow with red jowls and poor skin. He wore a bulletproof vest and kept a lightweight Nikon camera slung over his shoulder. Strapped to his backpack was a notebook-size laptop computer complete with a solar charger for the battery pack and a satellite modem. He tended to wheeze in the sharp night air as the higher elevation starved his lungs.

  Nigel set up whenever there was a quiet moment to transmit his latest scribbling to his London paper. A copyeditor fixed his grammar, checked his spelling, and pulled the story into a presentable format. It was the least they could do for someone dodging artillery barrages and ducking under the distinctive .50 caliber buzz-saw whine. There was the dark side of his assignment—sometimes journalists never returned from the field.