Saddam's Diamonds (eBook)

3

The flying time from Fort Benning in Columbus, Georgia, to Baghdad, Iraq, is about fourteen hours. Military aircraft do not usually fly as fast as commercial flights, and Jack grunted as he was told their flight would take more than fifteen hours.

He and an assortment of army troopers and supplies were aboard a C-17 transport which cruises at around 450 knots. Despite the impressive size of the C-17, the men and supplies were packed together tightly. Jack lost hope for getting a few hours’ sleep. The troopers decided to sing and tell jokes. Jack thought about using his new rank to tell them to shut up but decided against it. Instead, he went mentally over the two days he had spent at Benning – not the one day his CID contact had suggested. They were long days, filled with refresher courses on military etiquette, fittings for uniforms, some target practice with weapons and, finally, a top secret briefing that contained very little that was secret.

He learned about current bases and their Iraqi names – all bases were now referred to as under Iraqi government control – as well as troop strength at each base. Jack knew the US Army still ran the show in Iraq no matter what was said publicly. Finally, he was told he would receive a more detailed briefing from General Temper when he landed in Baghdad. He could hardly wait. He and Temper had never gotten along. Jack decided that he would make a decent effort to find Frank Skinner, probably an impossibility anyway – then turn in his report and head for home. Might take a week, he thought. He still wondered why Temper had gone to such lengths to recall him and have him sent to Iraq. It didn’t make any sense. Yet here he was – flying for fifteen straight hours into a place he despised and had not visited in over ten years.

When the plane finally landed, Jack stepped out into what he always felt was a nightmare – a hell on earth. Camp Victory in Bagdad. If any place in this God forsaken country had been misnamed this was it. The Iraqis had renamed it, of course, but no American troops called it anything but Victory or Vic. There had been no victory, just a continuing loss of both American and Iraqi blood and treasure. The heat hit him first – over 100 degrees - and he cursed his bad luck again as he headed for the same headquarters building to sign in and get directions to General Temper’s office.

◆◆◆

“You look older, Novak.” General Temper sat across from Jack, smiling the same old wolfish smile Jack remembered from his previous service. Temper looked pretty much the same, maybe slightly grayer and heavier. The thin pencil moustache was still in place; the dark black eyes still looked as though they could cut you in half.

“I am older, sir.” Jack had decided to keep his remarks brief.

The general pulled a bottle of Jameson out of his bottom desk drawer and handed Jack a glass. “I was going to offer you a drink, Novak,” Temper said, “but I understand you gave it up.” His smile remained.

“Yes, sir. I decided to drop a few bad habits I picked up here in Iraq.” He placed the glass on the desk.

“If I recall correctly you showed up here ten or so years ago with that particular bad habit already established,” Temper said, pouring himself a drink. “But that’s neither here nor there. I see almost all of your old MP outfit is gone now,” he said, looking at a file on his desk.

“That’s right. I buried the last one – we called him Rookie - about two years ago.”

Temper nodded. “I remember him. A crazy kid. A screw-up.”

“Sir, he was a good soldier.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. But let’s get down to cases. I remember you received a bronze star for leading the team that captured Saddam. That probably saved you from a court martial for continually drinking on duty.”

“I don’t remember any of that, sir. I remember Saddam, though. I thought he was very bright, spoke English fairly well and was a great chess player. We played for hours during his detention and before he was hanged. I thought that was a mistake, by the way. He could have helped us to keep the peace.”

“He was a murdering son of a bitch, Novak, and he got what he deserved. Besides, peace is highly overrated.” Same old Temper.

“Excuse me, sir, but I thought I was here to talk about Frank Skinner.”

“Fuck Skinner. We’ll get to him later. I want to concentrate on Saddam right now.”

He reached into another desk drawer and pulled out a dark red velvet pouch. He removed a small object and dropped it carefully into Jack’s empty glass. It tinkled almost like a piece of ice and sparkled brilliantly. “Now tell me about the diamonds,” the general said.

Jack was stunned. “Diamonds? What diamonds?”

“You know God damned well what diamonds, Novak, so don’t bullshit me. Saddam’s diamonds. There have been rumors about some missing diamonds for years since he was hanged. Then your friend Skinner couldn’t stop bragging about them when he was drunk, which was often. We all thought it was just drunken talk after he deserted until a couple of months ago when I got this little beauty” – he pointed to the diamond in the glass – “from Skinner, in a bag along with the head of one of my soldiers. His note said, ‘Who said Saddam was a bad guy?’ By the way, one of my officers is a gem expert. He said this rock is real.”

It all came flooding back to Jack as he sat watching the diamond shimmering in the glass. He did indeed remember Saddam’s diamonds. The dictator took a liking to him and Frank Skinner because they treated him with respect, always referred to him as Mr. President, and made certain he had a steady supply of his favorite foods and Hennessey, his preferred cognac. He was imprisoned for three years before an Iraqi court sentenced him to hang. Jack and Skinner visited him often. After saying his farewells to family members, Saddam had asked to speak to the two men privately before the execution, set for the end of December, 2006. Jack was scheduled to be discharged and return home the following week and he was surprised Saddam wanted to see them. Saddam thanked them for their friendship and told them about a secret cache of diamonds. He even drew them a crude map of the location inside one of the dictator’s palaces close to the Iranian border. He said no one knew about the gems or their location. After all, the dictator laughed, he had at least 50 palaces spread throughout Iraq - sometimes I lose count - and the rumors were rampant about treasures in all of them.

At first, Jack and Skinner thought the man was bullshitting them. Why not tell his family or his former elite guards about the jewels? But Saddam laughed again and explained that his sons already had access to his millions of dollars in Swiss bank accounts. He also knew most of his close associates had informed on him and he chose to ignore them and reward two men who had treated him with the deference he felt he deserved. He asked them to tell everyone they knew that he had died with dignity and bravery as the head of state of Iraq. He called it poetic justice that his last gift before dying would be to Americans, despite the fact that they had destroyed his country and imprisoned him. Prophetically, he said the forces America had unleashed would cause untold bloodshed for years in the Middle East.

While Jack was being discharged very soon, Skinner wasn’t scheduled to leave Iraq for another year. He and Jack agreed that Skinner would locate the diamonds and split them when he got back to the states. That was the last Jack heard from him until he learned that Skinner disappeared from base and was thought to have been captured and murdered. Over the next ten years or so, a hard-drinking period for Jack, he thought no more about the whole matter.

“Novak? You hear me?” General Temper growled as he poured himself another drink.

“Yes, sir. Skinner told me he would go after the diamonds and we would split them up when he got back to the states. Then I heard he went missing and was presumed captured and then murdered.”

“And you know nothing about where they’re hidden, do you?” The general smirked.

“No sir.”

“That’s a load of crap, Novak. Nobody would give up a butt-load of diamonds that easy. You mean to tell me you haven’t been in contact with Skinner all these years? I served two tours in Afghanistan and one in the Pentagon during that time before they sent me back to this shit hole. You could have hooked up with Skinner any time during those years.”

Jack lost his patience. “I thought he was dead and how the hell would I be able to contact him over here even if I knew he was alive?

The general slammed the drawer of his desk, stood up and paced the room. “You listen to me, Novak. I’ve put in twenty-five years in this god damned army and I retire in a few months. You know what I have to show for it? One star, a shitty pension and a bad case of hemorrhoids. I brought you back here for only one reason. I want those diamonds. I don’t give a shit about Skinner. Starting tomorrow, you’ll search for Skinner and find those fucking diamonds. I’ve assigned my best men to work with you. That includes...