Only the sound of the surf washing at their feet filled the small space between them.
The headlines shouted, EMBATTLED PRESIDENT STRUGGLES TO SURVIVE. Melissa looked around her office and didn’t see any struggling going on. In fact, it was business pretty much as normal. She read the lead story anyway to find out what should be happening around her. She almost chuckled as the reporter alluded to midnight conferences and the hint of a presidential cover-up. She looked up to see Bill Carroll standing in front of her, five minutes early for the intelligence update on the Middle East the President had requested. “You’re early,” she said. “Have a seat and I’ll show you in when the President is ready.” Neither gave the slightest indication that they had met before in a much more unprofessional manner when Carroll had first told her about his discoveries in the Middle East.
Exactly on time, she escorted Carroll into the Oval Office where four men were with the President. Zack Pontowski was his normal unflappable self; three of the other men appeared at ease and only Fraser seemed agitated or worried. You do look a little ruffled, she thought, enjoying his discomfort. “Okay, Bill,” Pontowski said. “What have you got this morning? The PDB sounded grim.”
So that’s what’s got to Fraser, Melissa decided. The President read something Fraser didn’t want him to read. She left them and returned to her desk.
Carroll set his briefing charts on an easel so the group could see them, took a deep breath, and began. “Mr. President, gentlemen, the Syrians are moving their tanks and armored units in a way that constitutes an increased military threat to Israel.” He detailed how the Syrians were positioning three large armored corps in a forward position facing Israel. The northernmost force consisted of at least a thousand tanks in the Bekáa Valley opposite Beirut and anchored on the Syrian city of Homs. The tanks could move south down the Bekáa, cross the Litani River, and strike into the northern part of Israel directly at Haifa. The Bekia Valley was a dagger pointed at the northern border of Israel.
The middle force numbered approximately eight hundred tanks and was moving into position on the Golan Heights right up to the Syrian disengagement line. The 1,250-member United Nations Disengagement Observer Force in the Area of Separation was getting edgy and had asked the UN for permission to reduce the number of their observers in case fighting broke out.
But most ominous was the third force of at least fifteen hundred tanks clustered next to the Jordanian/Syrian border in the Jebel Druze highlands. A new highway linked the Jebel Druze to the Jordan River and allowed the Syrians to thrust directly at Jerusalem through Jordan.
“Where did the Syrians get that many tanks?” Bobby Burke, the director of central intelligence, snorted.
“Sir,” Carroll replied, “they bought them from the Russians.”
The President ignored the exchange and studied the chart. “So the Syrians could launch a three-pronged thrust at Israel,” he said.
Carroll flipped to the next chart of the Sinai Desert. “And the Egyptians have moved the location of their annual defense exercise, Desert Star, that starts next week.” He circled an area that extended from the Suez Canal into the Sinai.
“Military maneuvers in the Sinai are a violation of the Camp David Accords,” National Security Adviser Cagliari said. “The Israelis would never let them get away with that, nor would the UN peacekeeping forces and observers stationed in the Sinai.”
“Normally, sir, that would be a true statement,” Carroll answered. “But the Egyptians have invited observers to monitor the exercise and have even asked the Israelis to participate. The Israelis have ignored the invitation and protested the exercise. But they keep looking over their shoulder at all those Syrian tanks on their northern border.”
Admiral Scovill, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, studied the map. “Any indication that the Iraqis are involved in any of this?” he asked.
“None at this time,” Carroll answered. Burke nodded in agreement.
“What’s the Israeli reaction?” Cagliari asked.
“Apparently they are taking it very seriously and have declared state of alert Gimmel. There’s only two higher states of alert. As of now, all military leaves have been canceled and certain reserve units called up. If the Egyptians do go ahead with Desert Star, the Israelis will see it as a potential threat. They’ll have to mobilize and move forces into position in the Sinai and keep them there until the threat goes away. They simply cannot ignore a military exercise of that size so close to their borders.”
“So what are you telling us?” Fraser asked.
Admiral Scovill answered, “A war is going to break out soon. A military exercise like Desert Star is a screen to move forces into position. Any fool can see that.” He glared at Carroll as if he were personally responsible. “Who presents the biggest threat to Israel and what can we do about it?”
“The Egyptians, sir. Apply diplomatic pressure and get them to cancel the exercise. That will remove a threat from the Israelis’ southern flank and allow them to concentrate their forces opposite the Syrians. No way the Syrians can take on the Israelis without Egypt tying up part of the IDF.”
Pontowski nodded in agreement. The lieutenant colonel had reinforced what he was thinking. “Contact State,” Pontowski ordered. “Call the Egyptian ambassador in today and let’s have a friendly chat. Also, I want to send all the players over there a loud and clear signal that we are concerned and are not going to sit on our thumbs and let a war break out. Any other suggestions, Colonel?” Pontowski was testing Carroll, seeing how deep his analysis cut.
Carroll thought for a moment. “This might be a good time to practice Response Alpha of your new national energy plan.”
Fraser was floored. “Sir, we don’t need to start rationing gas because of this.”
“Tom,” Pontowski said, a gentle rebuke surfacing in his voice, “you need to read the plan. Response Alpha is the first step we take in case of an oil crisis. It calls for the government to set up the framework that makes it possible to quickly implement rationing and conservation measures.” He paused, definitely liking the way Carroll thought. “By testing our system, we send a message that our diplomatic efforts to keep fighting from breaking out are not going to be held captive by a fear of an oil crisis or another embargo.”
“But Mr. President,” Fraser argued, “that means the oil companies will be subject to strict governmental control. That’s politically hazardous—”
Pontowski cut him off. “We won’t ration a drop of gas at this time or interfere with anybody’s business. We are conducting an exercise to find out how well our bureaucrats have done their job.”
Ten minutes later, Melissa glanced over the top of her reading glasses at Fraser as he marched into his office. “Get the chief of the Secret Service in here now,” he ordered and closed his office door behind him. Melissa dialed the number and relayed Fraser’s message. My, but he is upset, she thought.
A few minutes later, Stan Abbott, an athletic fifty-four-year-old, was sitting in front of Fraser. “Stan, thanks for coming up on such short notice.” Outwardly, Fraser was calm and controlled. “I know you’re aware of what the newspapers are saying about the President.” Abbott nodded. “I have just come from the President and want to reassure you that there is no cover-up going on. In fact, we want to do everything in our power to keep that from happening. We’ ‘—again he stressed the “we,” implying he was relaying a message from Pontowski—“are very worried about certain people who work in the Office of the President and …” Fraser hesitated to see how much Abbott would do without receiving direct orders. Abbott said nothing.