With each Palestinian raid, with each Israeli death, the radical element of Israeli politicians gained increasing support from a disenchanted electorate. Consequently, the Likud party-spawned by the earlier hard-line Herut and Liberal parties-found itself ironically in danger of being portrayed as too moderate or even as ineffectual. Therefore, Likud could not afford to alienate the ultraorthodox segments like the Kach party, whose influence now exceeded its small numbers.
Eventually the fundamentalist, most nationalist Israeli politicians began insisting that Jordan was not a legitimate country, but a creation of the British. This viewpoint gained a 40 percent plurality among the electorate, and political pressure on the government became intense. Some observers predicted that Israel would propose Jordan as the long-awaited Palestinian homeland, thus skirting the sensitive issue of ceding Israeli-occupied land for that purpose. Bennett knew-in fact, had predicted-that some settlement of the Palestinian issue would be the only means of achieving a balance in the region, especially after the turmoil of the late 1980s. He was enough of a realist to know that peace in the Middle East was a pipe dream. But now it may be too late; the time for concessions to the Palestinians may have passed into history. Now they rode the wave of Islamic fundamentalism which seemed bound to sweep all before it.
Safad Fatah had hinted as much in his San Diego meeting with Bennett. The moderate Arab states, most notably the Saudis, stood to lose everything. All they could hope for was to hold what they already had.
The king had already met with delegations from Iran. Khomeini's successors were no less determined than the departed ayatollayh, but they were more pragmatic and had reestablished relations with Riyadh. The long, bitter war with Iraq had shown the folly of pitting Muslim against Muslim and flesh against steel. Now they called for a unified religious war-a jihad-which would once and for all destroy the Jewish state. The superpowers could do little more than observe the growing storm from the sidelines.
The Saudi monarch now sat on a tenuous throne, knowing that only the power of his oil and money could save him-if coupled with a precisely executed diplomatic scheme by men the quality of Safad Fatah. The Iranians were the key-maintain an accord with them, and the others likely would follow suit. But the king knew that the same men he had hosted over thick coffee and paper-thin wafers were capable of dispatching a team of suicidal assassins the next time.
Now, addressing his own ministers, the ruler of Saudi Arabia outlined the situation. Though his nation had not been directly involved in the many wars against Israel since 1948, the pattern of combat was well known in Riyadh. Every man in the room knew that no Arab army had seriously threatened the existence of the Jewish state since the Israeli Air Force had grown to early maturity in the mid-1950s. In the usually clear weather of the Middle East, and upon its barren deserts, no army could move on the few roads and hide from Israeli aircraft. Those roads had time and again been lined with the gutted, charred, rusting remains of trucks and armored vehicles.
John Bennett knew the facts as well as any Arab leader. It was the opening theme in his War College thesis which had brought him to Fatah's attention. Fatah had committed two paragraphs to memory:
The Middle East arena, from Suez on the canal to Tarabulus in northern Lebanon, is barely 400 miles. A jet aircraft covers this distance in less than one hour at cruising speed. At Mach I the time is barely thirty minutes. Thus, from Tel Aviv the radius of action for a supersonic aircraft puts it within combat in just ten to fifteen minutes.
Operating in clear weather, in terrain devoid of cities, forests, and even natural depressions in many places, a defending air force sits within easy reach of nearly all likely targets. Antiaircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles may force the aircraft to pay a price for success, but success thus far has been denied the Arabs. Only airpower can defeat airpower, and at present the only thoroughly professional, world-class air force in the region belongs to Israel.
Fatah had underlined the crucial last sentence and quoted it when suggesting to his superiors that Commander Bennett was the man for the job.
John Bennett answered the knock and opened the double doors of his suite. There was Fatah, impeccably draped in a mishlah and the traditional ghotra headdress. "As-salaamu alaykum," he said. "Peace be upon you." Bennett replied in barely recognizable Arabic. "Wa alaykumu as-salaam. And upon you be peace, Mr. Fatah."
"Well done, Commander Bennett," Fatah lied. "I am impressed.
Come, we will go straightaway and 1 shall describe the protocol while we walk."
As Fatah escorted Bennett across the courtyard, Bennett noticed an uneasiness he had seldom known. A deep-seated feeling that this day could be the most important of his life was submerged beneath a seemingly cool exterior as Fatah briefed him.
"Commander, my king has instructed me to tell you that he wishes you to be completely comfortable and there will be none of the usual pomp. He wishes you to be informal, as he will be with you. "
On entering the throne room they walked toward the king, who was flanked by his aides. Bennett was surprised to see the monarch dressed almost plainly in traditional garb, with simple accoutrements that belied his status. He was a man of medium height in his late fifties, with lively eyes and a winning smile. As Bennett approached, King Rahman rose from the throne and stepped forward, hand extended. The grip was firm, contrary to Arabic custom, and the king placed his left hand on Bennett's shoulder. This guy is in the leadership business, all right, the aviator thought. Even looks the part: hair graying at the temples like people used to prefer in doctors, presidents, and airline captains. But Bennett also noted the deep wrinkles above the brow.
Rahman guided Bennett to a semicircle of Western-style chairs around a gold-leaf antique table. A plain silver tray held seven cups and saucers. Seeming to materialize from thin air, two servants appeared and filled the cups with gaoa, a strong green coffee.
The king briefly introduced the other four men in attendance, as Bennett already knew of Safad Fatah's role as ambassador at large and family confidant. The American shook hands-far less firmly than had the king-with Generals Mustafa Halabi and Mohammad abd Maila, finance minister Tewfig al Aziz, and Dr. Fuad Hamoud, whom Bennett took to be another diplomat of some sort. The air force officers, crisp in their uniforms, showed the British influence and Bennett easily related to them. Aziz, short and balding, had a miserly look about him which Bennett thought ill suited the chief financier of Arabia. Hamoud was a cipher, a bearded man who said little but listened closely.
Following preliminary pleasantries about his comfort, the beauty of Bennett's California, and the world in — general, Rahman motioned to the waiters. They replaced the gaoa with a highly sweetened tea, then disappeared. The king of Saudi Arabia set down his cup.
Game time, John, and here comes the serve.
The king leveled his gaze at the American and spoke in a precise Etonian accent. "Commander Bennett, I know you must be curious about our invitation to have you leave your beautiful San Diego and travel these thousands of miles to my kingdom. I have need of the services of a man of your capabilities and experience. Before I answer any questions, I would like to take a moment to tell you how we came to choose you. Please do not be offended if I tell you that we expended nearly two years and a great deal of money and influence to find a man such as yourself. In fact, I can say that we settled on four candidates for the mission I propose-two U. S. Air Force officers, a Royal Air Force man, and yourself. You became our first choice.