Honour Among Thieves (10 page)

‘Marked
“Top Secret”, no doubt,’ said Scott.

Dexter
Hutchins raised his eyebrows as Scott bundled up the files and left without
another word. Tess unlocked a door that led to a small empty office next to her
own. ‘I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed, Professor,’ she promised.

Scott
turned the pages of the first file, and began to study a report on the secret
talks that had been taking place in Norway between the Israelis and the PLO.
When he came to the file on the Iraq-Iran conflict there was a whole section
he’d written himself only two weeks before, recommending a surprise bombing
mission on the Mukhbarat headquarters in Baghdad if the UN inspection team
continued to be frustrated in their efforts to check Iraqi defence
installations.

At
twelve o’clock, Tess brought in a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk as he
began to read the reports on no-fly zones beyond the 36th and 32 nd parallels
in Iraq. When he had finished reading the President’s speech, Scott spent
another hour trying to puzzle out what change of course or surprise the new
Prime Minister of Israel might have in mind. He was still deep in thought when
Dexter Hutchins stuck his head round the door and said, ‘Five minutes.’

In
the car on the way to the State Department, Dexter asked Scott if he had any
theories about what the Israeli leader might be going to surprise them with.

‘Several,
but I need to observe the man in action before I try to second guess. After
all, I’ve only seen him once before, and on that occasion he still thought Bush
might win the election.’

When
they arrived at the C Street entrance it took almost as long for the two men
from the CIA to reach the seventh floor as it always did for Scott to penetrate
the inner sanctum of Langley.

At
2.53 they were ushered into an empty conference room. Scott selected a chair
against the wall, just behind where Warren Christopher would be seated but
slightly to his left so he would have a clear view of Prime Minister Rabin
across the table. Dexter sat on Scott’s right.

At
one minute to three, five senior staffers entered the room, and Scott was
pleased to see that Susan Anderson was among them. Her fine fair hair was done
up in a coil, making her look rather austere, and she wore a tailored blue suit
that accentuated her slim figure. The spotted white blouse with the little bow
at the neck would have frightened off most men; it appealed to Scott.

‘Good
afternoon, Professor Bradley,’ she said when Scott stood up. But she took a
seat on the other side of Dexter Hutchins, and informed him that the Secretary of
State would be joining them in a few moments.

‘So
how are the Orioles doing?’ Scott asked, leaning forward and looking straight
across at Susan, trying not to stare at her slim shapely legs. Susan blushed.
From some file, Scott had recalled that she was a baseball fan, and when she
wasn’t accompanying the Secretary of State abroad, she never missed a game.
Scott knew only too well that they had lost their last three matches.

‘Doing
about as well as Georgetown did in the NCAAs,’ came back her immediate reply.

Scott
could think of no suitable reply. Georgetown had failed to make the national
tournament for the first time in years.

‘Fifteen
all,’ said Dexter, who was obviously enjoying sitting on the high stool between
them.

The
door suddenly swung open and Warren Christopher entered the room accompanied by
the Prime Minister of Israel, and followed by officials from both countries.
They split down each side of the long table, taking their places according to
seniority.

When
the Secretary of State reached his seat at the centre of the table, in front of
the American flag, he spotted Scott for, the first time, and nodded an
acknowledgement of his presence.

Once
everyone was settled, the Secretary of State opened the meeting with a
predictably banal speech of welcome, most of which could have been used for
anyone from Yeltsin to Mitterrand. The Prime Minister of Israel responded in
kind.

For
the next hour they discussed a report on the meeting in Norway between
representatives of the Israeli government and the PLO.

Rabin
expressed his conviction that an agreement was progressing satisfactorily, but
it remained vital that any further exchanges should continue in the utmost
secrecy, as he feared that if his political opponents in Jerusalem got to hear
of it, they could still scupper the whole plan before he was ready to make a
public announcement.

Christopher
nodded his agreement, and said it would be appreciated by the State Department
if any such announcement could be made in Washington. Rabin smiled, but made no
concession. The game of poker had begun. If he was to deliver the Americans
such a public relations coup, he would expect something major in return. Only
one more hand remained to be dealt before the home team discovered what that
‘something’ was.

It
was during ‘any other business’ that Rabin raised the subject no one had
anticipated. The Prime Minister circled around the problem for a few minutes,
but Scott could see exactly where he was heading. Christopher was obviously
being given the opportunity, if he wanted it, to kill any discussion stone dead
before Rabin raised it officially.

Scott
scribbled a note on a piece of paper and passed it over to Susan. She read his
words, nodded, leaned across and placed the note on the blotting pad in front
of the Secretary of State. He unfolded the single sheet, glanced at the
contents but showed no sign of surprise. Scott assumed that Christopher had
also worked out the size of the bombshell that was about to be dropped.

The
Prime Minister had switched the discussion to the role of Israel in relation to
Iraq, and reminded the Secretary of State three times that they had gone along
with the Allied policy on Operation Desert Storm, when it was Tel Aviv and
Haifa that were being hit by Scuds, not New York or Little Rock. It amused
Scott that at the last meeting Rabin had said ‘New York or Kennebunkport’.

He
went on to say he had every reason to believe that Saddam was, once again,
developing a nuclear weapon, and Tel Aviv and Haifa still had to be the first
candidates for any warhead.

‘Try
not to forget, Mr Secretary, that we’ve already had to take out their nuclear
reactors once in the past decade,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘And if necessary,
we’ll do so again.’

Christopher
nodded, but made no comment.

‘And
were the Iraqis to succeed in developing a nuclear weapon,’ continued Rabin,
‘no amount of compensation or sympathy would help us this time. And I’m not
willing to risk the consequences of that happening to the Israeli people while
I’m Prime Minister.’

Christopher
still offered no opinion.

‘For
over two years since the Gulf War ended, we have waited for the downfall of
Saddam Hussein, either at the hands of his own people or, at least, by some
outside influence encouraged by you. As each month goes by, the Israeli people
are increasingly wondering if Operation Desert Storm was ever a victory in the
first place.’

Christopher
still didn’t interrupt the Israeli Prime Minister’s flow.

‘The
Israeli Government feels it has waited long enough for others to finish the
job. We have therefore prepared a plan to assassinate Saddam Hussein.’ He
paused to allow the implications of his statement to sink in. ‘We have at last
found a way of breaching Saddam’s security, and possibly of being invited into
his bunker. Even so, this will still be a more difficult operation than those
which led to the capture of Eichmann and the rescue of the hostages at
Entebbe.’

The
Secretary of State looked up. ‘And are you willing to share this knowledge with
us?’ he asked quietly.

Scott
knew what the reply would be even before the Prime Minister spoke, and so, he
suspected, did Christopher.

‘No,
sir, I am not,’ replied Rabin, looking down at the page in front of him. ‘The
only purpose of my statement is to ensure we do not clash with your colleagues
from the CIA, as we have information which suggests that they are currently
considering such a plan themselves.’

Dexter
Hutchins thumped his knee with a clenched fist. Scott hastily wrote a two-word
note and passed it across to Susan. She removed her glasses, read the message
and looked back at him. Scott nodded firmly, so she once again leaned forward
and placed the note in front of the Secretary of State. He glanced at Scott’s
words, and this time he reacted immediately.

‘We
have no such plan,’ said Christopher. ‘I can assure you, Prime Minister, that
your information is not correct.’ Rabin looked surprised. ‘And may I add that
we naturally hope you will not consider any such action yourselves without
keeping President Clinton fully informed.’

It
was the first time the President’s name had been brought into play, and Scott
admired the way the Secretary of State had applied pressure without any
suggestion of a threat.

‘I
hear your request,’ replied the Prime Minister, ‘but I must tell you, sir, that
if Saddam is allowed to continue developing his nuclear arsenal, I cannot
expect my people to sit by and watch.’

Christopher
had reached the compromise he needed, and perhaps even gained a little time.
For the next twenty minutes the Secretary of State tried to steer the
conversation onto more friendly territory, but everyone in that room knew that
once their guests had departed only one subject would come under discussion.

When
the meeting was concluded the Secretary instructed his own staff to wait in the
conference room while he accompanied the Prime Minister to his limousine. He
returned a few minutes later with only one question for Scott.

‘How
can you be so sure Rabin was bluffing when he suggested we were also preparing
a plan to eliminate Saddam? I watched his eyes and he gave away nothing,’ said
Christopher.

‘I
agree, sir,’ replied Scott. ‘But it was the one sentence he delivered in two
hours that he read word for word. I don’t even think he had written it himself.
Some adviser had prepared the statement. And, more important, Rabin didn’t
believe it.’

‘Do
you believe the Israelis have a plan to assassinate Saddam Hussein?’

‘Yes,
I do,’ said Scott. ‘And what’s more, despite what Rabin says about restraining
his people, I suspect it was his idea in the first place. I think he knows
every detail, including the likely date and place.’

‘Do
you have any theories on how they might go about it?’

‘No,
sir, I don’t,’ replied Scott.

Christopher
turned to Susan. ‘I want to meet with Ed Djerijian and his senior Middle
Eastern people in my office in one hour, and I must see the President before he
departs for Houston.’

Christopher
turned to leave, but before he reached the door, he glanced back. ‘Thank you,
Scott. I’m glad you were able to get away from Yale. It looks as if we’re going
to be seeing a lot more of you over the next few weeks.’ The Secretary of State
disappeared out of the room.

‘May
I add my thanks, too,’ said Susan as she gathered up her papers and scurried
after her master.

‘My
pleasure,’ said Scott, before adding, ‘Care to join me for dinner tonight?
Jockey Club, eight o’clock?’

Susan
stopped in her tracks. ‘You must do your research more thoroughly, Professor
Bradley. I’ve been living with the same man for the past six years and...’

‘...
and I heard it wasn’t going that well lately,’ interjected Scott. ‘In any case,
he’s away at a conference in Seattle, isn’t he?’

She
scribbled a note and passed it over to Dexter Hutchins. Dexter read the two
words and laughed before passing it on to Scott: ‘He’s bluffing.’

When
the two of them had been left alone, Dexter Hutchins also had one question that
he needed answering.

‘How
could you be so sure that we aren’t planning to take Saddam out?’

‘I’m
not,’ admitted Scott. ‘But I am certain that the Israelis don’t have any
information to suggest we are.’

Dexter
smiled and said, ‘Thanks for coming down from Connecticut, Scott. I’ll be in
touch. I’ve got a hunch the plane to Washington is going to feel like a shuttle
for you over the next few months.’ Scott nodded, relieved that the term was
just about to end and no one would expect to see him around for several weeks.

Scott
took a cab back to the Ritz Carlton, returned to his room and began to pack his
overnight case. During the past year he’d considered a hundred ways that the
Israelis might plan to assassinate Saddam Hussein, but all of them had flaws
because of the massive protection that always surrounded the Iraqi President
wherever he went. Scott felt certain also that Prime Minister Rabin would never
sanction such an operation unless there was a good chance that his operatives
would get home alive. Israel didn’t need that sort of humiliation on top of all
its other problems.

Scott
flicked on the evening news. The President was heading to Houston to carry out
a fund-raiser for Senator Bob Krueger, who was defending Lloyd Bentsen’s seat
in the special May elections. His plane had been late taking off from Andrews.
There was no explanation as to why he was behind schedule – the new President
was quickly gaining a reputation for working by Clinton Standard Time. All the
White House correspondent was willing to say was that he had been locked in
talks with the Secretary of State. Scott switched off the news and checked his
watch. It was a little after seven, and his flight wasn’t scheduled until 9.40.
Just enough time to grab a bite before he left for the airport. He had only
been offered sandwiches and a glass of milk all day, and considered that the
CIA at least owed him a decent meal.