An Enemy Within by Roy David Read Free Book Online Page A

ostentatious influence lay in every corner of the palace. His embossed initials stood stark on the black and gold jalousies of each ornate window in the building, sculpted on its many grand entrance columns.
    ‘Talk about obsessive grandeur,’ Kowolski said, running his fingers over the carvings. ‘And look at all this.’ He gestured at a couple of chandeliers, ripped from the ceiling by looters, then discarded.
    He bent down to pick up a fragment. ‘You know, Alex,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘What you see is not what you get with Saddam.’
    ‘Plastic!’
    Kowolski smiled. It was the same in all of Saddam’s palaces – tat and bling that would run Las Vegas close.
    ‘We launched cruise missiles on this palace when Operation Iraqi Freedom began – a pity Saddam wasn’t at home,’ Kowolski said.
    Alex rattled off several shots of the substantial damage, one whole wing blasted to ruin. They made their way through a myriad of rooms, stepping over mounds of rubble. Lumps of pre-cast concrete hung at crazy drunken angles from the ceilings, their mangled steel rod innards hideously exposed like the intestines of a giant beast. Glass from shattered windows covered the floors, crunching like gravel underfoot.
    ‘Some place, huh?’ Alex said.
    ‘They’re all the same,’ Kowolski countered. ‘Most of them built while the UN sanctions were operative – oil for food, oil for medicine. He turned it into an oil-for-palaces charade for himself and his buddies. There are lots of places like this, dozens of square miles of one man’s vulgar obsession with himself – each one with a complex of underground bunkers.’
    Kowolski felt a well of anger rise within him and kicked out at a piece of the plastic junk, sending it crashing across the floor.
    ‘The State Department did a survey three years ago thatreckoned he had as many as four dozen palaces. Can you imagine that? They came up with a count of twelve hundred buildings on these sites – mansions, villas, you name it. The ordinary Iraqi Joe Shmoe could kiss his ass.’
    ‘Not too loud,’ Alex whispered, ‘he might still have the rooms bugged.’
    ‘Yeah? Well we’re coming for you – you sonovabitch,’ he shouted, his words echoing eerily on the sad bare walls.
    Returning to the main reception area, they were told Rumsfeld was now ‘off limits’ in a closed meeting with army commanders, so they gratefully accepted a coffee and wandered outside.
    Kowolski closed his eyes and lifted his face up to the sun, taking a deep breath as if to cleanse himself of the depressing atmosphere of inside. ‘Say, do you fancy sticking around for a little while? There’s a little job that’s cropped up.’
    ‘I… don’t know,’ Alex said, suddenly nervous.
    ‘I’ll personally make sure the money’s good – top rates. That is, if you don’t have anything or anyone to rush back to.’
    She found herself thinking of a raft of excuses why she couldn’t stay in Iraq. Each reason abruptly countered by her inner self. What was facing her at home? She had no work lined up. Only the dreary state she’d slid into. And the endless lonely nights.
    Kowolski could see he’d struck a hopeful chord – she hadn’t refused outright. But could he trust her not to blab if she did turn him down? ‘Look, can I tell you something in complete confidence?’
    She shot him a hesitant glance and let out a sigh. ‘Okay,’ she said, feeling her resistance crumbling. ‘Shoot.’
    Kowolski eyed her seriously. ‘This is not for publication, right?’
    ‘What? You caught Saddam and you want me to capture his best side?’
    ‘Cut the bullshit, Alex.’
    Kowolski outlined the job. She would be embedded with the crew of a Bradley Fighting Vehicle, recording their daily duties in and around the Green Zone, going out with them on patrol.
    ‘I want you to focus on one man in particular – a young lieutenant, Matt McDermott, a great kid, totally committed to this cause.’
    ‘Why