I don't know when exactly it started. It was like white noise. In normal times you wouldn't even notice it. Maybe in one particular moment of hyper awareness you might be lucky enough to notice that the white noise of that moment didnt sound like it used to. But even if you did notice youd dismiss it and go about more important things. Slowly, slowly the tone of the white noise would keep changing until one moment of one day you would realise that there was something seriously wrong.
That's what my danger sense had become. I dont know when it started to grow but it grew so imperceptibly that only when I started to be antsy, paranoid and irritable all the time did I stop to think that perhaps there was something wrong. The infinitesimal growth in my danger sense and the way it had suddenly become so prominent like a headache scared me more than a sudden spike like when I had been shot would have. It was insidious and spoke of something much more dangerous.
When I realised the problem my mind immediately went to Iraqs neighbours. Iran was my prime suspect. I had semi ignored them given their problems with the US and sanctions and the fact that a US military base sat near my southern border with them. But now the hostage crisis had been resolved through back channels and the US had reduced its manpower at the base and in the Gulf of Hormuz. Iran could have been secretly preparing for war and I would have completely missed it while getting involved in my grand plans for the improvement of Iraq.
But Lebanon was also a possibility as was Syria. The whole mess with Israel had become murky and entered the modern era with Hamas and Hezbollah i.e. non state actors becoming more pressing concerns than their host states themselves. Sometimes the reasoning behind these groups lashing out was obscure and known only to the groups themselves. Hezbollah was also closely tied to Irans Republican Guard so a double threat.
My danger sense indicated a threat specifically targeted at me. I almost completely dismissed an internal threat. After all, if the internal threat was to grow it would have done so many years ago. Now, the country was in the middle of an economic miracle that was not leaving behind any particular community.
It could have been Ayaan...I'll admit that I was a little ashamed that I thought of it but in this murky era it would have been foolish of me not to consider it. Old Saddam or his Ba'ath party allies could have brutalized her family and I would not even know it. Maybe she was here to get me. But I supposed that was unlikely. I had made contact with her, not the other way around. It would have to be the mother of all coincidences that the target initiated contact with the assassin unknowingly.
The vagueness of my sole superpower frustrated and scared me. Imagine having a voice in your head like a klaxon constantly shouting 'You're fucked. You're fucked' in a monotone but offering no further clue. My days and nights were filled with paranoia. Escape was not an option. The Iraq Project had become my baby. I was doing good work, fighting the good fight against entropy and chaos.
I instructed Kamal to heighten the security and alertness within Baghdad and within the Presidential compound specifically. I also decided that the biggest land based threat would be heavy armor, so I had concrete blocks placed strategically around the city just in case.
Kamal was my greatest ally in this. I was glad that he took my fears seriously. He oversaw the modification of the Presidential Palace for a possible assault. Luckily old Saddam had always been a paranoid bastard and had built hidey holes and bunkers throughout the compound. But I didnt want to hide like old Saddam. It would serve no purpose. If I had to be attacked, I had to fight back otherwise I might as well flee. This was no country for weak men. I was terrified. My hands shook all the time and i had a big balloon in my chest which prevented my words from coming out loudly enough.
We had sandbags propped up at various points across the Palace as well as barbed wire fencing. The Palace guard commander was pleasingly tactically minded and close lipped. He didnt question Kamal or me but he added valuable insight like creating a maze of choke points throughout the compound.
The feeling grew day by day. It was picking up steam I could tell. Things were coming to a head. I practised my shooting in the basement shooting range every night when most of the Palace staff was asleep. I didnt want to alarm anyone and I was ashamed of how much my arms shook as in held the rifle or pistol. I could let Saddams instincts take over but although it stopped the shaking in my arms his instincts were too macho and suicidal. The man wasnt an able tactician as his constant losses in war proved. If i were to be attacked I would need my wits about me. I had become a decent shot by myself but no plan, as they say, survives enemy contact.
I tried to carry on my day to day work. It was actually possible to do so. There was just so much to do that the anxiety would inevitably fade into the background only to return full force in the liminal moments.
And then one day the feelings reached a crescendo as Kamal rushed into my office, consternation writ on his face.
"Lt. Col Salah reported in from near Kirkuk," he began. "Lt. General Faoud Kareem took command of a division of 5000 including an armored division and peeled away from Jalula two days ago. Yesterday the division became unreachable. He thought to report the anomaly today just in case."
I felt like all the strands of worry in my mind resolved themselves instantaneously. Coup d'etat. It was a body blow that hit my heart and left me despondent. How could I have gotten things so incredibly wrong. I had mistrusted the army for a while but never Faoud. Faoud who gladly accepted the command of Saad Hashmi an obviously less competent army man. Faoud who was so strategically brilliant. Faoud who was forward thinking and who I intended to be the next army chief. A cold sweat washed over me as I stared past Kamal blankly.
"Sir! Sir!" I came to, as Kamal was shouting at me looking alarmed.
"Sorry," I said weakly without offering an explanation for disappearing in front of his eyes.
"What's wrong sir?"
I rubbed my face and slapped my cheeks hard. The time for self flagellation was later. I had to act now. I had a short window. Jalula was less than two days away especially on the brand spanking new highways that I had had constructed. Faoud was probably already nearing Baghdad.
I stood up violently. All my actions were harsh. I had to forcibly dispel my depressed ennui.
"Its an attempted coup," I told Kamal shortly, opening my drawer and retrieving my Desert Eagle pistol. I bought it because of my favourite movie, Snatch but it turned out to be a powerful weapon in it's own right.
"What....what....why?" Kamal spluttered.
I went up to him and grabbed both his shoulders.
"Kamal my friend. Weve been preparing for this. Nothing changes. We need to act now and think later!"
He nodded firmly. He looked terrified as well.
"Get in touch with the Police Chief. Tell him what's happening and instruct him to arm his men, martial law is in place and he needs to put those barricades up asap."
Kamal nodded.
"Also get in touch with Ahmed. We need to know which parts of the armed forces are still with us."
(Break)
I was standing on the terrace of the tallest wing of the Palace. It was early evening but the usual sounds of the city had vanished. At least the police was now competent. I didnt know if they would stand with me or with Faoud when the time came but at least they'd got civilians into cover.
I heard the first shots ring out from the East across the Tigris. The light was low enough that I could see the path of the tracer bullets. My thoughts went to Ayaan. I hoped Kamal had gotten her evacuated. I suspected not. She was a hard woman. She wouldn't leave her patients to the mercy of god knows what.
Kamal and the Palace Guards Commander, a Turkmen named Osman joined me on the parapet. Osman handed me my Ak47 rifle. As I shouldered the rugged but average Soviet assault rifle I briefly regretted not purchasing the M16 from the US. I had spent the last couple of years trying to spur indigenous arms and ammunition production so that we didnt fall into a spiral of exorbitant defence imports. At least Faouds soldiers wouldn't have an equipment advantage. Small mercies.
There wasnt much to be said. The three of us knew that things were fucked. I didnt know how long the barricades would hold back the armored division. Once the tanks were through they would just stroll through town. This wasnt Erbil where each citizen was ready and armed. Even if the tanks were stalled, Faoud had 6000 men and despite our defensive installations, the sprawling Palace grounds weren't meant to withstand a siege. In fact we were hemmed in because of the Tigris on our back. It would be a slaughter once the Division broke through the barriers.
I lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. Then I passed it to Kamal who huffed and passed it to Osman. Bullets continued to bite through the dusk sky.