He paused to let that sink in. Then he continued, with a lighter tone to his voice. "I've been reading the Koran as time allows, and that combined with close contact with the Saudis has shown me a few things." He paused to glance at his notes.
"The Muslim religion is a warrior's religion. Death in battle is exulted. One sura says it alclass="underline" 'Prescribed for you is fighting, though it be hateful to you.' The faith is characterized by extreme fatalism, and this trait must be handled carefully when dealing with your students. Many Arabs believe that when your time is up, there's nothing to do but accept the decree of God. Inshallah is a phrase you'll hear often. It means 'God's will.' Naturally, this attitude does not go well with military aviation. You must impress upon these cadets that they can never give up, never quit trying.
"Another phrase you'll hear a lot is mafi'misula. It's the Arabic equivalent of manana, meaning 'no problem.' There's a widespread tendency to let things slide, to go around them rather than solve them. It's a cultural difference we will have to deal with, firmly but tactfully. Westerners are far more direct than Arabs, who always want to exchange pleasantries first. Similarly, briefings and debriefings tend to be extremely lax in Arab air forces because it's impolite to praise one person over another, let alone to imply criticism. Consequently, you must always seek to balance your debriefs with something positive, to keep encouraging the students at every stage of the syllabus.
"We've arranged briefings to better acquaint you with Arab philosophy. But there's room for optimism. The students we're getting are barely more than kids, so their minds are relatively open and I'm assured there will be a minimum of culture shock. But get this: We're receiving the cream of this country's crop. I guarantee, if you produce for these boys, they'll break their hearts trying to please you.
"Overall, just one thing to remember tonight. The Arabs will respect strong, quiet men who lead by example. Polish up your Gary Cooper impersonation and you won't go far wrong."
Bennett looked around the room. He was confident he'd made his point. "All right. Last one to the bar buys the first round. "
Colonel Bennett made sure he was the last to place his order.
Secretary of State Thurmon Wilson was angered by the Israeli ambassador's suggestion that some obscure retired naval officer might be breaking the U. S. Code. Wilson pressed the button of his desk phone and asked his secretary to put him through to the Secretary of Defense.
"Ben, good afternoon. The Israeli ambassador just left my office in a huff about some of the U.S. citizens under contract to the Saudis. You recall it was discussed at the cabinet meeting last time."
The defense secretary listened to Wilson's New England accent with controlled petulance. Oh, Christ, he thought. The Israelis again . "Yes, I remember. We decided there was no harm in the arrangement. "
"That's right," Wilson said. "But the Israelis seem especially interested in one man, apparently the leader. He's a retired Navy commander named John L. Bennett." Wilson spelled the name. "He's from the San Diego area. The Israelis seem to know a lot about him, and they suggest he may be in violation of U. S. Code."
"In what way?"
"Employment by a foreign military power, which technically could define him as a mercenary. But that's the broadest possible interpretation. If some lawyer wanted to push it, he'd make a case against every instructor or civilian tech rep we have outside the country. It wouldn't stick, of course, but that's the theory."
Benjamin Wake interjected. "Did the ambassador make reference to the Saudi F-20 buy?"
Wilson paused, uncertain of the aircraft designation. "Is that the airplane we discussed previously?"
"Yes, it's designed by the Northrop Corporation. Long ago we gave permits for export to most of the friendly third world countries and it's also in production abroad. It's called the Tigershark."
The Secretary of State remembered Tom Wolfe's description of the macho appellations given to combat aircraft: a mixture of sharp teeth, cold steel, cosmic warlords, and evil spirits. "Yes, that's the one. The Israelis are trying like hell to slow down the Middle East exports. They're lobbying heavily in Congress, you know."
Wake knew where this conversation was leading. "I know. But do you know how many people are employed by that company? The president said last week that with our balance-of-payments deficit and with the unemployment in Southern California, there was no way we could reduce foreign military sales. It's politically as well as economically unfeasible."
“So what about this Bennett character?"
"I just wondered if your Navy people could check up on him. You know, give me something to show the Israelis and prove we're trying to cooperate."
The defense secretary inhaled, held his breath, and closed his eyes. Just what I need-another project. "Thurmon, what the president said about national economics also applies to geopolitics. The Saudi organization that Bennett is building gives us leverage and political influence we may need badly in that region. Especially with the way things are going with the radical Moslem states."
Wilson decided on a direct appeal. "Can't you just go through the motions? Give me something to throw the Israelis and show our good faith."
"All right, Thurmon. I'll have one of my people get back to you in a couple of days. But I can tell you right now, we can't tell you any more about this guy than the Israelis already know. Christ, they probably can tell you what toothpaste he uses."
"Well, thanks. I appreciate it. Do you have any suggestions about the Israelis' concern regarding the Tigershark?"
Wake's tone was that of a schoolmaster lecturing an earnest but dull student. "You can tell them exactly what we said in the cabinet meeting. The Saudi versions have no radar so far and no radar-guided missiles. That makes them less capable than almost anything the Israelis already are flying. After all, that's why we approved the bird for export."
"Yes, well, thanks again, Ben. Always good to chat with you."
Lieutenant Levi Bar-El felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. His chief and other intelligence executives had been polite, but he had been lectured on the importance of a sense of perspective, of establishing priorities. His section chief had hinted at that very topic not long ago, he recalled. But Bar-El had pressed right along, sending up smoke signals which had made their way to some very nervous politicians, already edgy about the international reaction to Jordon. He hadn't violated military etiquette, and he had only nudged the borders of military-diplomatic propriety. Now he realized that the people he talked to had in turn spoken to others.
"Lieutenant-" the colonel had begun.
Levi knew right then he was in trouble. Ordinarily Chaim Geller used first names.
"I agree with you that the foreign pilots and the new aircraft are a matter of potential concern. But you have other projects more pressing. Therefore, please do not allow the Saudi situation to become an obsession. Remember, we have the finest air force on earth. No matter how many American and British instructors the Saudis hire, our fighter pilots will handle the situation."
Still, Bar-El could not shake a sense of premonition. He knew that a good intelligence officer developed a sixth sense, and more often than not it proved accurate. He had studied the official color photograph of the man named Bennett, concentrating on the man's gray eyes. They held… what? Dedication, tenacity? That, surely, but something more. Bar-El inhaled. He wondered if the colonel had used the very word to describe this man. Obsession.