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“American-made Hellfire missiles,” added the president, “fired by American-made Apache helicopters.”
Secretary of State Berg made the connection first. “That’s why they went back into Hebron last night. They wanted to clean up the mess.”
“Or,” said Kennedy, “knowing Ben Freidman, they’ll plant the evidence to make it look like they were telling the truth the whole time and the Palestinians were lying.”
“Or,” contradicted Culbertson, “they simply went back into Hebron to clean out these martyr brigades.”
“I’m sure it’s a bit of both,” agreed Kennedy, “but right now I’m inclined to believe one is a pretense for the other.”
“The reality,” said the president, taking control of the discussion, “is that we have an ally who is not being truthful with us.”
“What is Freidman saying about the ambassador’s assassination?” asked Berg.
Kennedy looked at the keen secretary of state. Berg was well aware of Israel’s official denial of any involvement in Ambassador Ali’s death. Her question by itself showed that she believed Mossad capable of conducting a brutal version of their own foreign policy.
“The director general is denying any involvement.”
Culbertson grimaced. “Just because they lied about the bomb factory doesn’t mean they had anything to do with the Palestinian ambassador’s assassination.”
“I’m not so sure,” replied Hayes. “At a bare minimum, however, it proves that we can’t take them at their word.”
Culbertson turned to Kennedy and skeptically asked, “You don’t really think they would have done something so brazen, do you?”
Kennedy took a moment to compose her thoughts. “I don’t see the benefit of such an action … at least not here on American soil, but then again I don’t have all the facts. For all I know this could be the start of an all-out offensive on Israel’s part to clean out the West Bank once and for all.”
“Why kill the ambassador then?” asked Berg. “All they’ve managed to do is galvanize the UN.”
Until this moment, for several reasons, Kennedy had
restrained herself from voicing her next comment. First and foremost was that she didn’t want to believe Israel could be so reckless, but her strained relationship with Freidman and the assault of the suicide bombers on the Israeli psyche led her closer to the conclusion that they were indeed capable of such a brutal move.
“There is a school of thought”—Kennedy couched her words carefully—“that Israel no longer cares what the UN thinks.”
The president had not heard this before and asked, “How so?”
“To be sure, there are elements within Israel that believe engagement is the only way to lasting peace and security, but there is a growing lobby that thinks every time Israel trusts her concerns and security to another country or organization, she gets burned.”
Secretary of State Berg concurred. “They see the UN at a bare minimum as being unsympathetic and at worst, as blatantly anti-Semitic.”
Kennedy agreed. “So by killing the Palestinian ambassador in New York, they’re telling the UN what they really think of them, while at the same time sending a message to the Palestinians that they can be every bit as brutal as they are.”
Culbertson started to see their point. “UN resolutions go unenforced all the time, so why bother trying to appease them.”
“Exactly,” replied Berg.
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The armor-plated Mercedes limousine came to a stop in front of the north entrance to the West Wing. Two spit-polished marines stood at attention in their dress blues, one on each side of the door, like sentries to an ancient palace. Prince Abdul Bin Aziz stepped from the black limousine and buttoned his suit coat, while ignoring the reporters who were shouting questions at him from the lawn on the other side of the driveway. The cousin to the crown prince had left his keffiyeh back at the embassy. In fact, the only time he wore the traditional garb of his people was when he returned home or was forced to do so because of ceremony.
Over the last fifty-four years the ambassador had spent more time in America than Saudi Arabia, which was fitting, since he’d been born at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. His early schooling had been handled by tutors and then at the age of fourteen he was shipped off to Philips Exeter Academy, the ultraexclusive prep school in New Hampshire. After Philips Exeter it was on to Harvard for both his undergraduate and graduate degrees.
Abdul Bin Aziz had a great affinity for America. More than anything, though, he admired his host country’s secular approach to governance. He had seen the true evil that could be perpetrated by men with deep religious conviction and it scared him. This was why he owned three homes in America and rarely allowed his children to return to Saudi Arabia. Prince Abdul Bin Aziz believed that in his lifetime the House of Saud would fall. It would be trampled by the very fanatics his relatives had supported over the years.
The ultra-orthodox Wahhabi sect of Islam had spread like an unruly weed across his country and beyond, choking out all forward and rational thinking, silencing all dissenters within and without the faith, and damning millions of people to a belief system that had more in common with the Stone Age than the twenty-first century.
And now, in this dangerous time, he was once again sent to the White House by his cousin, the crown prince, to try to appease the fanatics without slitting their own throats.
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