That cannot be right, thought Mordechai. Was a major NATO ally suggesting the U.S. might be guilty of a crime, a cover-up, and an act of war?
“Do not misunderstand me,” Al-Hassani added. “I would not be concerned by Nargil Kuzemir. You will not find a more inconsequential man running such an important country. But I guarantee you he did not wake up this morning and say to himself, ‘I think I will slit my throat with the Americans.’ That is not like him. He is incapable of an original thought. Someone is squeezing him.”
“Iran?”
“Of course; who else?”
“OK, let us say you are right,” said Mordechai. “The central question still remains — why would Iran risk its relationship with Moscow by hijacking a Russian jet full of civilians? It just does not make sense.”
“Why not?” Al-Hassani pushed back. “Suppose the mullahs are behind the attack — not directly, but through Al-Nakbah. Is Iran taking any heat for it? Of course not. No one is even talking about who hijacked the plane. They are all talking about who shot the plane down. The Russians are furious with Washington, not Tehran. And it is not only the Russians. The whole world is furious at the MacPherson administration over this. Which begs the question: is the U.S. suddenly in a stronger position to confront the next member of the Axis of Evil — Iran? Of course not. Just the opposite. There is absolutely no political will in the United States to deal with the Iranians, even as they move ever closer to completing their nuclear weapons and unveiling their plot to seize the Arabian Peninsula.”
Mordechai’s pulse quickened. Was this why he had been summoned? Was Al-Hassani suggesting Iraq and Israel work together somehow to block the rise of a new Persian Empire? On the face of it, the idea seemed impossible. But a week ago if someone had asked him the chances of a former Israeli spy chief being invited by the Iraqi head of state to discuss the Iranian problem, he would have said that was impossible too. Yet here he was, in the city whose very name conjured images of the end of days.
There was no question Al-Hassani was trying to open a back channel to Jerusalem. The question now was just how far the Iraqi leader wanted to go. Mordechai was about to ask when one of Al-Hassani’s aides stepped into the room and whispered in the president’s ear.
Al-Hassani abruptly stood and held out his hand.
“You have been most kind to come all this way, Dr. Mordechai. I have enjoyed our conversation immensely, and I hope you have found it helpful as well. My colleague here will take you on the tour of Babylon. And I hope you and I have the opportunity to meet again in the near future.”
Mordechai was stunned. They were just getting started.
“Please, please, my friend, do not be offended,” Al-Hassani insisted. “You understand that neither your interests nor mine are served by the two of us being seen together. You arrived under the cover of darkness, and you shall depart the same way. But rest assured that you will not, by any means, leave empty-handed. I have left a gift for you back at the Guest House — for you and your prime minister.”
Then Al-Hassani lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “I trust neither of you will be disappointed.”
And with that, the inscrutable Iraqi leader turned and walked out a side door, leaving Mordechai bewildered and alone.
12
Bennett dashed off an e-mail to McCoy’s BlackBerry.
“e — did you see it?”
“what?”
“ilyushkin… how worried should i be?”
“you’ve got enough to worry about without adding that nut to your list.”
Bennett wasn’t so sure. “i don’t know…. have you really listened to this guy?”
“i’m more worried about this resolution the libyans are planning to introduce at the u.n…. did you get ken costello’s flash traffic?”
“something just came in — haven’t read it yet.”
“you’d better.”
“all right, hold on.”
Bennett checked his new mail. Sure enough, there was an urgent message from Kenneth R. Costello, undersecretary of state for political affairs. A former ambassador to the European Union and deputy ambassador to the United Nations, Costello was the administration’s leading authority on matters involving the U.N. and E.U. As such, he’d become a key asset in building international support for the Oil-for-Peace deal and was thus a man whose judgment Bennett trusted enormously.
But the latest news from Costello was not good.
> FLASH TRAFFIC <
(Priority One/EYES ONLY)
Sources at the U.N. tell me Libya will introduce a resolution on Monday condemning the U.S. for shooting down Aeroflot 6617 “without sufficient provocation” and for “massacring 173 innocent men, women, and children.” Not clear if Moscow is behind the Libyan move, but President Vadim will likely be supportive, at least in principle. No word on whether other countries are involved in the drafting. END. KRC, UndSecPolAf.
XXXX310714-09:06ET-WASHDCXXXX <
Bennett rubbed his eyes. This was just what he needed on top of everything else.
A new message from McCoy popped up.
“think it can pass?”
“doubt it,” Bennett wrote back. “libya doesn’t have the clout to push it through.”
“but you’re still getting an ulcer just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
McCoy knew him too well. Bennett changed the subject.
“any news on the chechen angle?”
“still working on it — my boss is driving me like a slave.”
“guy sounds like a jerk,” Bennett wrote back, smiling.
“you don’t know the half of it…. thinks he’s a real hotshot… used to work on wall street… you know the type.”
“i say dump him like a junk bond and run off with me.”
“elope?”
“absolutely — scuba in aruba, anyone?”
“name the time and the flight — i’ll be there.:)”
“don’t tempt me.”
“soon enough, my love.”
It couldn’t possibly be soon enough, thought Bennett. He leaned back and closed his eyes. There was nothing he would love more than to cut loose and marry this girl right then and there. They were more than in love. They were best friends. He’d never believed in long engagements anyway.
Was forty-eight hours long enough?
Mordechai was seething.
For the last several hours he had been forced to endure a mind-numbing series of lectures by various Iraqi “experts” on the history of Babylon, amid blazing July temperatures. He had suffered through a concert of Iraqi folk songs and some of the ugliest belly dancers he had ever seen. He had been forced to hold his tongue while some assistant-to-the-deputy-director-of-whatever had been his tour guide, a young man unable or unwilling to answer any but a handful of his questions about Babylon’s past, present, or future.
And he was still furious at the way Mustafa Al-Hassani had so abruptly ended their meeting. Had the entire trip been a waste of time? Why exactly had he been summoned in the first place if only to be handled so rudely?