"You can't what?"
"Jon was adamant that we keep the Israelis out, right?"
"Right."
"Jack, on the other hand, was equally adamant. He and his team at CIA feel strongly that somebody has to go in and stop all the killing, that we can't just sit by and watch Palestinians slaughter themselves on CNN."
"Right."
"And what was the question Jack taunted Bennett with?"
Corsetti thought about that for a few seconds, but couldn't recall precisely. Fortunately, the president proceeded to answer his own question.
"Jack asked, 'Then who's going to go in, the U.N.?' Right?"
"OK, I remember that. And Jon was about to answer but the vice president cut him off and took his side, said the Israelis shouldn't go in."
"Exactly."
"So what's your point?"
"What was Jon's answer?"
"I don't know."
"I don't know either."
"But you suspect he wasn't going to back a U.N. peacekeeping force?" Corsetti pressed.
"How could he? He knows my concerns about the U.N. An international force would take forever to authorize, much less deploy."
"Maybe he didn't have an answer one way or the other. Maybe Jack was about to stump him."
"Not likely. Jon's a strategist, and a pretty good one, too. He's wired to think five or six moves ahead. I trained him myself."
"God help us all." Corsetti laughed.
"Nevertheless" — the president smiled—"he might actually be right."
Corsetti considered that, then shifted gears.
"You're not really thinking about sending in troops, are you?"
"I don't know."
"Sir, Jon's a sharp guy with great Wall Street instincts. There's nobody in the White House or on the NSC that disputes that. But let's not kid ourselves. Jon is not a diplomat. He's not a trained negotiator. He's got no military or CIA training. And with all due respect, I don't think we—you— should be turning to him on military matters. I mean, sir…"
"I'm not turning to him on military matters, I'm…"
"Of course you are. Invading the West Bank and Gaza? Sending in U.S. troops when we're already occupying Iraq? No one is advising you to do this, sir. No one. Not on your NSC team. Not at Defense. No one at State. No one at the CIA. Hell, Bennett himself hasn't actually even come out and said it — not in so many words."
"So what's your point?" demanded the president.
"My point, sir, is that I'm concerned that your desire to nail down a peace deal is clouding your judgment. The peace process is over. It died a grisly death yesterday, in Gaza. Period. End of sentence. Our job now is to contain the damage, not create more. I mean, how exactly does going to war in the West Bank and Gaza help us put points on the board here at home, in the Arab world, within NATO, within the E.U.? How does it help us build international support for a new regime in Iraq? For crying out loud, Mr. President, wouldn't you say we've got enough problems without changing the definition of 'occupied territories' from Israeli-occupied to U.S.-occupied?"
"No, no, no, Bob — you're missing the point."
"Am I? Because—"
"Bob, think about it. Are we serious about winning the war on terrorism or aren't we? Do we really let this mafia war in Palestine run its course? You want to wake up one morning and find yourself facing a Palestinian Michael Corleone — someone smarter, tougher, more ruthless than the Godfather, more dangerous than Arafat himself?"
Corsetti said nothing.
"Bob, I'm not saying we should go in. I'm saying we shouldn't rule it out. Get the guys at the Pentagon and CIA war-gaming something — fast — and let's think it through. That's all I'm saying."
Corsetti took a sip of coffee. It was cold.
"Mr. President, it's your call, obviously. I'm just saying that you pay me togive you political advice. And, sir, I'm telling you that what you're considering — even the act of considering it — is politically very, very risky."
"And the alternative is what, exactly? A couple of U.N. resolutions? Send ing Jimmy Carter over there? What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know, sir. Not yet."
"Neither do I," MacPherson admitted. "I just want to know what my options are. So get me some options — fast."
Corsetti reluctantly nodded, excused himself, and stepped out of the Oval Office.
It was then that the president began to realize just how alone he really was.
The press conference began promptly at 9:00 p.m., Iraqi time.
It was, after all, designed primarily for domestic Iraqi consumption. But given its import, it was also carried live by most major television networks around the world, including in the United States where it broke into the afternoon soaps at 1:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time.
"Good evening," said a well-coiffed older American gentleman in a navy pinstriped suit, crisp white cotton shirt, and a red power tie.
A blinding of flashbulbs and 35-mm auto advancers quickly confirmed to everyone watching that the ornate hall they were seeing on their screens was in fact packed wall to wall with scores of international journalists.
"My name is Troy Moreaux. As all of you are aware, the president has sent me here to oversee the Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance and to assist the Iraqi people in establishing an interim govern ment, and that is what I intend to do."
More flashbulbs. More auto advancers.
"Four weeks ago, the United States and our allies faced a catastrophic threat — indeed, an existential threat — from the regime of Saddam Hussein. Therefore, acting in self-defense, we used the force necessary to defeat those threats and end Saddam Hussein's murderous regime. It wasn't easy. But it was worth it. And now the United States and our friends and allies through-out the free world stand ready to help the Iraqi people exit the long, cold night of your suffering into the warm sunshine of peace and prosperity. We will be here as long as it takes, but not one minute more. The United States is here to liberate, not dominate."
The hall erupted with applause.
"Tonight, then, I announce the formation of an Iraqi interim government."
Another burst of applause went up from the gathered Iraqi dignitaries standing behind Ambassador Moreaux, as well as from several dozen other Iraqi officials filling the hall.
"Allow me, then, to introduce the six senior members of the new interim government, which will be known as the Coalition Provisional Authority, or CPA. There are two dozen members total, and my staff is handing out to each of you a press release with the complete list of names and bios. But let me just quickly mention these gentlemen, beginning with Ayad Allawi of the Iraqi National Accord."
This brought a smattering of applause.
"Jalal Talabani of the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan."
Another smattering of applause.
"Masoud Barzani of the Kurdistan Democratic party."
Still more light applause.
"Abdel-Aziz al-Hakim of the Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq."
Now the applause was intensifying.
"And, of course, Achmed Chalabi of the Iraqi National Congress, and Mustafa Al-Hassani of the Iraqi National Alliance."
At the mention of Chalabi and Al-Hassani's names, the crowd erupted in sustained shouts and fervent clapping. The two were clearly the most respected and powerful of the various factional leaders in the room, and arguably throughout all of Iraq, Chalabi because of his role in building and unifying the Iraqi opposition in exile, and Al-Hassani because of his role in inspiring the Iraqi people as a dissident who somehow had survived nearly eleven years in one of Saddam Hussein's most notorious prisons.
Now, with Chalabi back on liberated Iraqi soil and working so closely with the coalition forces to prepare for a civilian government, and Al-Hassani out of prison and addressing the people daily on the radio station formerly controlled by the Ministry of Information (read: "Propaganda"), the world was looking to these two men for a credible plan to rebuild Iraq's shattered infrastructure and psyche.