me down so fast.” It was what President Pontowski would have wanted to hear.
“Glad you made it, Tom. Okay, gentlemen, I want to take a hard look at what’s happening in the Middle East. I’m seeing things that disturb me and I don’t want to be caught by something coming at us from out in left field. We may have to work out some new policy initiatives.”
The director of central intelligence exchanged a puzzled look with the national security adviser, the man who headed the National Security Council. Neither of them was aware of any unusual activity in the Middle East. Still, the President had sent them a distinct signal that he was worried. Why else the hastily called meeting? Since the DCI was the overseer and coordinator of all United States intelligence functions, he took the lead. “Sir, we haven’t monitored anything unusual or threatening. Our analysts are on top of it. Perhaps if you could tell us what’s bothering you …”
“I want to know exactly what’s going on between the Syrians and Egyptians,” Pontowski told him. “I suspect there’s more to that mutual assistance treaty … I want to know if Iraq is a player … We’ve worked too hard to create a stable Iraq and deny them any significant military capability … And I would like some answers by this afternoon.”
The secretary of state chimed in. “Our observer at the negotiations reports all is in good order.” Pontowski only looked at him. The secretary got the message. “I’ll cable him to start digging and get his staff in gear.”
Fraser’s jaw was rigidly clamped and he worked not to grind his teeth. Nothing, he raged inwardly, was happening in the Middle East to warrant this much attention. Or was something going on he didn’t know about? Who had gotten to him? What were his sources? Don’t get paranoid, he cautioned himself. Pontowski does read three or four newspapers every morning. Maybe he stumbled onto something there. Rather than betray his irritation, Fraser decided to cool it and let others take the lead until he could control the situation.
Admiral Scovill, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, caught Pontowski’s attention. “Sir, I’ll get the DIA over here and find out what they’ve got. If there’s anything unusual going on, they’ll know.”
“Oh come off it,” the director of central intelligence protested. “The Defense Intelligence Agency gets its information from the CIA and the NSA. What would they have that’s so damn unusual? And if they’ve found something, why haven’t we all seen it?”
“Good question,” the admiral answered. “Let’s shake the tree and see what falls out.” A warning kept tickling at the back of his mind that the Middle East was going to become unhinged again. The admiral had played a key part in the logistics buildup that helped force Iraq out of Kuwait and had later counseled that the drawdown of forces from Saudi Arabia following the successful conclusion of the war, leaving only a small trip-wire force in Kuwait and massive military stockpiles in the Saudi desert, was premature. But the current Iraqi government had sent strong signals through the CIA that they would live in peace with their neighbors. The strength of the CIA’s endorsement suggested that the “boys from up the river” had an insider’s knowledge of what was going on. The United States and the world were all too ready to abandon the shifting political sands of the Middle East deserts for the safe bedrock of domestic politics. Situation normal, Admiral Scovill thought, all fucked up.
Fraser looked up as if he had received a sudden inspiration. “Mr. President, is there some person you’d like to talk to, a recognized expert in the field?” Maybe there’s a clue there, he thought.
Pontowski shook his head and stood up. Every eye was on him as he paced the room, a sure sign that he was upset. “I want peace in the Middle East,” he said, his voice controlled and gentlemanly.
“Glad you made it, Tom. Okay, gentlemen, I want to take a hard look at what’s happening in the Middle East. I’m seeing things that disturb me and I don’t want to be caught by something coming at us from out in left field. We may have to work out some new policy initiatives.”
The director of central intelligence exchanged a puzzled look with the national security adviser, the man who headed the National Security Council. Neither of them was aware of any unusual activity in the Middle East. Still, the President had sent them a distinct signal that he was worried. Why else the hastily called meeting? Since the DCI was the overseer and coordinator of all United States intelligence functions, he took the lead. “Sir, we haven’t monitored anything unusual or threatening. Our analysts are on top of it. Perhaps if you could tell us what’s bothering you …”
“I want to know exactly what’s going on between the Syrians and Egyptians,” Pontowski told him. “I suspect there’s more to that mutual assistance treaty … I want to know if Iraq is a player … We’ve worked too hard to create a stable Iraq and deny them any significant military capability … And I would like some answers by this afternoon.”
The secretary of state chimed in. “Our observer at the negotiations reports all is in good order.” Pontowski only looked at him. The secretary got the message. “I’ll cable him to start digging and get his staff in gear.”
Fraser’s jaw was rigidly clamped and he worked not to grind his teeth. Nothing, he raged inwardly, was happening in the Middle East to warrant this much attention. Or was something going on he didn’t know about? Who had gotten to him? What were his sources? Don’t get paranoid, he cautioned himself. Pontowski does read three or four newspapers every morning. Maybe he stumbled onto something there. Rather than betray his irritation, Fraser decided to cool it and let others take the lead until he could control the situation.
Admiral Scovill, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, caught Pontowski’s attention. “Sir, I’ll get the DIA over here and find out what they’ve got. If there’s anything unusual going on, they’ll know.”
“Oh come off it,” the director of central intelligence protested. “The Defense Intelligence Agency gets its information from the CIA and the NSA. What would they have that’s so damn unusual? And if they’ve found something, why haven’t we all seen it?”
“Good question,” the admiral answered. “Let’s shake the tree and see what falls out.” A warning kept tickling at the back of his mind that the Middle East was going to become unhinged again. The admiral had played a key part in the logistics buildup that helped force Iraq out of Kuwait and had later counseled that the drawdown of forces from Saudi Arabia following the successful conclusion of the war, leaving only a small trip-wire force in Kuwait and massive military stockpiles in the Saudi desert, was premature. But the current Iraqi government had sent strong signals through the CIA that they would live in peace with their neighbors. The strength of the CIA’s endorsement suggested that the “boys from up the river” had an insider’s knowledge of what was going on. The United States and the world were all too ready to abandon the shifting political sands of the Middle East deserts for the safe bedrock of domestic politics. Situation normal, Admiral Scovill thought, all fucked up.
Fraser looked up as if he had received a sudden inspiration. “Mr. President, is there some person you’d like to talk to, a recognized expert in the field?” Maybe there’s a clue there, he thought.
Pontowski shook his head and stood up. Every eye was on him as he paced the room, a sure sign that he was upset. “I want peace in the Middle East,” he said, his voice controlled and gentlemanly.
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