to pin all of this on him if it goes south,” Jagger said, concluding the point. “Okay, so our next move is to get some forces flowing to the Philippines and, as you say, that’s my tune. So, I’ve got that ammo detail thing I mentioned that is about to kick off. They’ll be leaving shortly under the guise of OEF-P,” Jagger said. “I’ll do a press conference tomorrow and an-nounce Patterson was killed, express our sorrow, the usual tap dance. Hold him up as a hero, and he’s our game changer. If Garrett is killed, then I think that seals it.”
“I’m getting satisfaction.” Wood smiled.
“Well, you know, it’s only rock and roll.” Jagger smiled in return.
“And we like it,” they said in unison.
CHAPTER 19
Pentagon, Washington, DC
Media pundit and leading neo-conservative Dick Diamond checked his Blackberry, shielding it from Saul Fox’ view as he nodded with approval and pulled out a checklist written on a pad of yellow legal paper. He sat in the chair facing Fox, the deputy secretary of defense. A large, framed, oval world map hung on the wall behind Fox’s desk. The desktop was cluttered with stacks of papers and books, much the way a college professor’s might be. Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma” played softly in the background. Turandot was Diamond’s favorite opera.
The two men smiled at each other and held their right hands up simultaneously as if swearing one another in for a court appearance. Then Fox and Diamond performed a maneuver with their hands, a secret hand shake of sorts, nodded and began their discussion of what they called “conditions setting.”
If there was a counterpoint to the Rolling Stones, Fox and Diamond were it. Diamond was tall, soft and plump, and had a bad hair transplant, making his scalp look like something akin to a Chia Pet. Fox was an elfish man with a bald pate. Secretly toiling away with Central Command, they had built their own intelligence apparatus and were building the case for the Iraq War. The opera playing in the background served to underscore how very different they were from the clandestine Rolling Stones. Fox and Diamond were in the engine room of the train, shovels in hand, pouring giant heaps of coal into the combustion chamber. Speed was increasing. The Iraq war was looming nearer and nearer on the horizon, like a shimmering oasis. Their path was clear and, like a locomotive, they were going to blow through anything that got in their way.
“The checklist. Al Haideri?” Diamond said. He was referring to the Iraqi Saeed al Haideri from Kurdistan, who claimed he could vouch for Saddam’s massive forbidden weapons stockpile.
Fox looked at his friend and said, “Check. We’ve got him teamed up with our perception manager, Randall. They’re working his story. He’s solid.”
Diamond’s pencil scratched at the paper as he made a checkmark. “Solid,” he whispered. Then he asked, “Yellow cake?”
“The Italians guarantee that Saddam is getting it from Niger.” Fox smiled.
“Wonderful,” Diamond agreed, then paused. “Ah, our Italian connection. Perfect.”
“ Perfecto, I believe, is the proper term.” Fox laughed.
“Metal tubes?”
“Some New York Times reporters are working leads there. They look solid,” Fox said.
“Solid,” Diamond echoed as he put another check mark on the paper. “And if not, we can send them some, right?”
Fox looked over his glasses at Diamond and stared at him a moment. He broke into a broad grin and pointed at him.
“You’re such a kidder, Dick. You know we did that last year before we even had jobs here.”
“Just checking to make sure you’re awake, Saul. Okay, Chalabi?”
“As solid as they come.” Fox smiled. “The future of Iraq. He will mobilize the Iraqis and unify them.”
“Unify,” Diamond agreed, nodding.
“Listen, Dick. This is going to happen.” Fox reached his hands toward his chest as if he were an actor about to belt out a Broadway tune and said, “I
“I’m getting satisfaction.” Wood smiled.
“Well, you know, it’s only rock and roll.” Jagger smiled in return.
“And we like it,” they said in unison.
CHAPTER 19
Pentagon, Washington, DC
Media pundit and leading neo-conservative Dick Diamond checked his Blackberry, shielding it from Saul Fox’ view as he nodded with approval and pulled out a checklist written on a pad of yellow legal paper. He sat in the chair facing Fox, the deputy secretary of defense. A large, framed, oval world map hung on the wall behind Fox’s desk. The desktop was cluttered with stacks of papers and books, much the way a college professor’s might be. Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma” played softly in the background. Turandot was Diamond’s favorite opera.
The two men smiled at each other and held their right hands up simultaneously as if swearing one another in for a court appearance. Then Fox and Diamond performed a maneuver with their hands, a secret hand shake of sorts, nodded and began their discussion of what they called “conditions setting.”
If there was a counterpoint to the Rolling Stones, Fox and Diamond were it. Diamond was tall, soft and plump, and had a bad hair transplant, making his scalp look like something akin to a Chia Pet. Fox was an elfish man with a bald pate. Secretly toiling away with Central Command, they had built their own intelligence apparatus and were building the case for the Iraq War. The opera playing in the background served to underscore how very different they were from the clandestine Rolling Stones. Fox and Diamond were in the engine room of the train, shovels in hand, pouring giant heaps of coal into the combustion chamber. Speed was increasing. The Iraq war was looming nearer and nearer on the horizon, like a shimmering oasis. Their path was clear and, like a locomotive, they were going to blow through anything that got in their way.
“The checklist. Al Haideri?” Diamond said. He was referring to the Iraqi Saeed al Haideri from Kurdistan, who claimed he could vouch for Saddam’s massive forbidden weapons stockpile.
Fox looked at his friend and said, “Check. We’ve got him teamed up with our perception manager, Randall. They’re working his story. He’s solid.”
Diamond’s pencil scratched at the paper as he made a checkmark. “Solid,” he whispered. Then he asked, “Yellow cake?”
“The Italians guarantee that Saddam is getting it from Niger.” Fox smiled.
“Wonderful,” Diamond agreed, then paused. “Ah, our Italian connection. Perfect.”
“ Perfecto, I believe, is the proper term.” Fox laughed.
“Metal tubes?”
“Some New York Times reporters are working leads there. They look solid,” Fox said.
“Solid,” Diamond echoed as he put another check mark on the paper. “And if not, we can send them some, right?”
Fox looked over his glasses at Diamond and stared at him a moment. He broke into a broad grin and pointed at him.
“You’re such a kidder, Dick. You know we did that last year before we even had jobs here.”
“Just checking to make sure you’re awake, Saul. Okay, Chalabi?”
“As solid as they come.” Fox smiled. “The future of Iraq. He will mobilize the Iraqis and unify them.”
“Unify,” Diamond agreed, nodding.
“Listen, Dick. This is going to happen.” Fox reached his hands toward his chest as if he were an actor about to belt out a Broadway tune and said, “I
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