about which he feels as strongly as he feels about the reelection of the president. Perhaps more strongly.” He looked uncomfortable, fiddled with his wineglass, said, “It seems there's a combined Egyptian-Israeli intelligence task force in this country at the moment, attempting to influence the election. Been here for months. Spending money.”
Goldfarb said, “Foreign power brokers always try to horn in on our elections, guarantee themselves a piece of the pie. It's like lobbying.”
Jeffords nodded. “Yes, exactly. When Howie Briggs described Francis to Arthur, wondering why such scruffy people should get nice rides on Arthur's private jet, Arthur made inquiries.”
“Because you weren't controlling the situation,” Meehan said. “As I already pointed out.”
“Yes, I know,” Jeffords agreed, “you told me so, you're absolutely right. Well, we're learning as we go in this operation.”
“Are we,” Meehan said.
Jeffords ignored that, saying, “Thank God the people Arthur talked to don't know
what
it is that's out there, but now Arthur's other friends do know something's there. Something exists.”
Goldfarb said, “Do they want to get it so they can release it?”
“No,” Jeffords said. “They would merely like our president to be deeply in debt to them. Let's say, even more deeply in debt.”
Meehan said, “So what happened today, and what's gonna happen tomorrow?”
“After I got your call,” Jeffords said, “Bruce and I did some of our own inquiries, and it didn't take long to learn that two or three people had been indiscreet around Arthur.” Again he sighed. “It's so hard to maintain security,” he told them, “in an organization so full of passionate amateurs and true believers. Some of those people will tell anybody anything, because after all, aren't we all on the same side? Don't we represent beauty and truth?”
“Security breached,” Meehan said, dredging that phrase up from some spy novel somewhere. “Now what?”
“Fortunately,” Jeffords said, “we do have some hotheads on call when intimidation is needed, Cuban and Serbian mostly, more recently super-American citizens, and I believe even now”—with a look at his watch—“a few of them are increasing Arthur's cleaning bills, down there at Hilton Head.”
“That's not gonna keep—” Meehan stopped and frowned. “Wait a minute. Did you say combined Egyptian and Israeli
intelligence?
I mean, I heard you, but the penny didn't drop. How are you gonna shut
them
down?”
Jeffords said, “We can make it very clear to them, Francis, through various channels, that we know what they know, we know what they were trying to do, and we would be very displeased to hear they were still trying to do it.
Or
let the Other Side know, accidentally or by design, that we know something's up. The only sure way to stop an intelligence operation is to shine a light on it, and that's what you and we have done.”
Meehan looked at Goldfarb. “Does that fly?”
“Probably,” she said. “Not necessarily.”
“Almost guaranteed,” Jeffords said.
“Great,” Meehan said. “Well, I tell you what, Mr. Jeffords. You tell your guy Arthur and his friends, if these Mostafas and Yehudis come sniffing around any more, I know some Cuban Serbs myself. And they don't use channels. They mostly use cement.”
The lamb chops, it turned out, were really very good. You could say special.
When he got back to the room the telephone's message light was blinking again, and this time it was Woody's recorded voice he heard: “Nine in the morning, at the curb outside your place.”
Okay. We're moving.
24
“ L ET'S HAVE LUNCH first,” Woody said, he being the one driving his cousin's car, a gray Volvo station wagon with the rear third converted to a cage, which Meehan had initially assumed was for inmates, until he got his first, but not last, whiff of dog.
“Sure,” Meehan said. By now, he'd grown used to the smell of dog, barely noticed
Goldfarb said, “Foreign power brokers always try to horn in on our elections, guarantee themselves a piece of the pie. It's like lobbying.”
Jeffords nodded. “Yes, exactly. When Howie Briggs described Francis to Arthur, wondering why such scruffy people should get nice rides on Arthur's private jet, Arthur made inquiries.”
“Because you weren't controlling the situation,” Meehan said. “As I already pointed out.”
“Yes, I know,” Jeffords agreed, “you told me so, you're absolutely right. Well, we're learning as we go in this operation.”
“Are we,” Meehan said.
Jeffords ignored that, saying, “Thank God the people Arthur talked to don't know
what
it is that's out there, but now Arthur's other friends do know something's there. Something exists.”
Goldfarb said, “Do they want to get it so they can release it?”
“No,” Jeffords said. “They would merely like our president to be deeply in debt to them. Let's say, even more deeply in debt.”
Meehan said, “So what happened today, and what's gonna happen tomorrow?”
“After I got your call,” Jeffords said, “Bruce and I did some of our own inquiries, and it didn't take long to learn that two or three people had been indiscreet around Arthur.” Again he sighed. “It's so hard to maintain security,” he told them, “in an organization so full of passionate amateurs and true believers. Some of those people will tell anybody anything, because after all, aren't we all on the same side? Don't we represent beauty and truth?”
“Security breached,” Meehan said, dredging that phrase up from some spy novel somewhere. “Now what?”
“Fortunately,” Jeffords said, “we do have some hotheads on call when intimidation is needed, Cuban and Serbian mostly, more recently super-American citizens, and I believe even now”—with a look at his watch—“a few of them are increasing Arthur's cleaning bills, down there at Hilton Head.”
“That's not gonna keep—” Meehan stopped and frowned. “Wait a minute. Did you say combined Egyptian and Israeli
intelligence?
I mean, I heard you, but the penny didn't drop. How are you gonna shut
them
down?”
Jeffords said, “We can make it very clear to them, Francis, through various channels, that we know what they know, we know what they were trying to do, and we would be very displeased to hear they were still trying to do it.
Or
let the Other Side know, accidentally or by design, that we know something's up. The only sure way to stop an intelligence operation is to shine a light on it, and that's what you and we have done.”
Meehan looked at Goldfarb. “Does that fly?”
“Probably,” she said. “Not necessarily.”
“Almost guaranteed,” Jeffords said.
“Great,” Meehan said. “Well, I tell you what, Mr. Jeffords. You tell your guy Arthur and his friends, if these Mostafas and Yehudis come sniffing around any more, I know some Cuban Serbs myself. And they don't use channels. They mostly use cement.”
The lamb chops, it turned out, were really very good. You could say special.
When he got back to the room the telephone's message light was blinking again, and this time it was Woody's recorded voice he heard: “Nine in the morning, at the curb outside your place.”
Okay. We're moving.
24
“ L ET'S HAVE LUNCH first,” Woody said, he being the one driving his cousin's car, a gray Volvo station wagon with the rear third converted to a cage, which Meehan had initially assumed was for inmates, until he got his first, but not last, whiff of dog.
“Sure,” Meehan said. By now, he'd grown used to the smell of dog, barely noticed
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