Executive Power

"Yes, as do the French, British, Germans, Russians and I'm sure quite a few other intelligence agencies."

"I would like to see Ali's file as soon as possible and give the Americans everything we have on him."

"It's already in process."

Goldberg felt a little bit better, but he still had the Hebron disaster to contend with.

"Assuming we are fortunate enough to be cleared of any wrongdoing in Ali's death, it will still be too late to help us with the Hebron thing. With the current political mood the UN is sure to vote for inspectors by today or tomorrow."

"Have the United States stall."

"They won't. Not right now."

"Then just deny the inspectors access."

Goldberg had already thought it through and discussed it with his closest political advisors. Dejectedly he replied, "I can't. It would be political suicide. My cabinet would fall apart, and I'd get a no-confidence vote within twenty-four hours."

Freidman knew he was right, but wasn't willing to give in so easily.

The two men sat in silence, both of them trying to find a way out of this complicated mess. Freidman had come up with only one option when his thoughts were interrupted by a muffled rumble coming from outside the building. Both he and the prime minister got to their feet and went to the window, just as another explosion was heard in the distance. Unfortunately, this was a noise that they had become all too familiar with.

Within minutes, reports were streaming into the prime minister's office. Three suicide bombs had gone off within minutes of each other.

Two in West Jerusalem and one in Tel Aviv. The damage and death toll was unknown, but expected to be high. Emergency response teams were at each site and searching frantically to make sure no other bombs were set to explode. It was a new and particularly evil trick of the martyr brigades to set secondary devices to detonate later and kill the paramedics who rushed to the scene to help the victims.

Freidman grabbed Goldberg by the elbow and led him into a corner out of earshot from his aides.

"This is your opportunity."

"How could this be an opportunity?"

"Send in the army and declare a curfew on Hebron. Secure the area and leave the rest up to me. By the time the UN inspectors arrive there will be ample evidence of a bomb-making factory. You will stifle the critics in your cabinet and the UN will be appeased."

Goldberg thought about it for a second, then slowly began to nod.

It was his only option. It was war, and in war the truth was almost always the first casualty.

FIFTY FOUR.

The rest of the meeting at the White House was dominated by what would happen at the UN. They all agreed that Israel was about to be strung up and that for the first time the United States might not be able to stem the backlash. Valerie Jones gave everyone a stern warning about the press. No one was to give any interviews without checking with her first. The last thing they needed right now was individual cabinet members and administration officials contradicting each other. Storms like these could be weathered, but only if everyone hung together. They could not afford to have the Hayes administration look as if it were in disarray.

When the President ended the meeting by standing, Ke

Jones looked over at her boss, who was talking to Secretary of State Berg. They were standing under a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt. The chief of staff returned her attention to Ke

Ke

"Yeah, I know."

"He's not going to like what we have to say," added Rapp.

"No, he won't."

Before the three of them had a chance to settle in, the President entered the office, with Jones and his personal Secretary. The President went straight to his desk and deposited a leather folder. His personal Secretary began reciting a list of things that needed his attention while Jones stood off to one side looking through a stack of pink message slips that one of her people had just handed her. She froze on one and then looked up to the President.

"The Saudi Ambassador wants to see you as soon as possible."

Ke

Hayes had a very warm relationship with the Saudis. Almost without thought he replied, "Set it up."

"Sir, if I may." Ke

Hayes raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Such as?"

Ke

"I think we should sit. This might take some time."

Hayes paused for a moment as he looked down at the workload on his desk but then agreed. Ke

Ke

Ke

"And what did they dig up?"

Ke

Hayes studied the photo of a plump man wearing a suit and walking into a hotel, surrounded by several people, including one very large Asian man. It was obvious from the quality of the shot that it was a surveillance photograph. There was something oddly familiar about the man in the suit, but the President couldn't place him. After a moment he shook his head, and said, "No."

In a way this surprised Ke

"His name is Prince Omar. He's a bit of an outcast from the royal family."

"Why?"

"He's led a very flashy life over the years. He's a big gambler, a womanizer and recreational drug user."

"He sounds like quite a few of the other family members."

"Yes, but he's the direct brother to the Crown Prince and fifteen years ago was in real contention with his brother to become king. He's very outspoken and unlike many of his cousins, uncles and nephews, he's actually made a fortune all on his own."

"That is unusual," admitted the President. The 5,000-plus Saudi royal family was notorious for their lavish spending habits, not for their ability to support themselves.