Paine wasn't MacPherson's first choice to be the Secretary of State, nor his second, though thankfully the press hadn't ever picked up on the behind-the-scenes intrigue surrounding the selection process. Paine didn't have Colin Powell's military experience or international stature. But with several years at the U.N. under his belt, he was certainly a safe choice, and MacPherson knew he wasn't going to run foreign policy out of the State Department anyway. He and the VP and Marsha Kirkpatrick would take the lead from the White House.
Paine chafed at the arrangement from the beginning. But he wanted the job and didn't want to be left out of the administration. He'd tried to negotiate for more power. But MacPherson never budged. The president wanted a Rockefeller Republican at State for political cover. But he simply didn't trust the bureaucrats at Foggy Bottom, and he certainly had no inten tion of giving them free rein over the future of U.S. relations with a rapidly changing world.
Still, despite their sometime prickly alliance, Paine and his wife, Claudia, had just spent Christmas Day at Camp David with the First Family. MacPherson smoked a cigar. The secretary smoked his pipe. The two talked about Bennett's "oil for peace" strategy and reviewed the blowout they'd had over going to war with Iraq. Now he was gone.
Agent Sinclair stood on the porch of the Residence.
Agents were positioned around the lead limousine, in the lead Suburban and the two that would follow. Vice President Bill Oaks was still inside on the phone with Israeli prime minister David Doron. The motorcade would wait, as would the NSC meeting, if need be. Doron had just ordered the IDF to prepare for a massive ground invasion of Gaza and the West Bank. It would take a few hours to get all the men and machinery in place. But the Israelis were offering to rescue the Americans and begin to restore order. All they wanted was a green light from Washington. Would they get it?
Oaks was an old Washington hand. He'd risen through the ranks of naval intelligence, then got out, made some money, and got into politics. He'd once been the governor of Virginia, then served four terms in the U.S. Senate from the Old Dominion, much of that time as the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. He knew the game. He knew what Doron wanted. He just wasn't convinced the United States should say yes.
MacPherson took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. The phone rang. It was Kirkpatrick again.
"Mr. President, we're picking up indications that the Syrians are going on full military alert. Air raid sirens are going off in Damascus. One of our Keyhole satellites is showing all kinds of activity at their forward air bases. Military radio traffic is picking up. I'll have transcripts of some of our inter cepts soon."
"What are the Israelis doing?"
"They're mobilizing as well, sir. The VP just got off the phone with the prime minister. They're putting their forces along the northern borders with Syria and Lebanon on full alert. They're also preparing for a massive ground invasion into the West Bank and Gaza. They're offering to rescue our people. They've just put their best counterterrorism units on high alert. The Sayerat Matkal and Ya'ma'm will be ready to move within the hour. Doron would like to talk with you as soon as possible."
"Does he think the Syrians are behind this?"
"He doesn't know what to think, sir. None of them do. Seems Shin Bet was completely caught off guard, as well."
"What about you?"
"I don't know, sir. Bashar Assad doesn't have much use for Arafat. But there's no reason I can see why he'd kill him. Assad isn't a religious man. Khalid al-Rashid was. I can't see how Syrian intelligence could have per suaded him to blow up Arafat and Mazen and Paine and himself for the glory of the Ba'ath party. It doesn't add up."
"God help me, Marsha," said the President, "if Assad is behind this…"
"Mr. President, I know what you're saying, and I feel the same way. But things are very early. It's far more likely that there's a religious angle here than that this is the Syrians."
"Who then — Iran, the Saudis?"
"It's just too early, sir."
MacPherson tried to refocus.
"All right, here's what I want you to do. Put CENTCOM on alert. Start moving air and ground assets toward the Syrian-Iraqi border. Watch for more Iraqi officials trying to flee for Damascus and make Assad feel the heat. Then tell our ambassador over there to get this message to Assad — quote—'The president advises you to stand down your forces. The U.S. will not tolerate Syrian interference in the crisis in Palestine. Any attempt to exploit the situation or provoke hostilities with the State of Israel or any regional player will be considered a hostile act against the United States. On these points there can be no misunderstanding. The U.S. will protect our vital national interests, and the interests of regional peace and security.' End quote. Got it?
"Yes, sir."
"Then get me the VP right away."
"What about Doron, sir?"
"What do you think?"
"For the moment I'd tell them to get their forces ready for ground op erations in the West Bank and Gaza. But I'd recommend you advise Israel not to actually move in — or engage in any armed contact with the Palesti nians — until we gather more facts and you can get back to the White House."
"All right, have the VP call Doron back and give him that message. Have him tell Doron that as soon as I land in Washington, we'll talk by phone. Then have the VP call me."
"Roger that, Mr. President. By the way, not that you need anything else on your plate right now, sir, but we've gotten word that there have just been two massive earthquakes in the past hour. The first was in southern Turkey, about forty-five minutes ago. Looks like a six-point-nine on the Richter scale. Death toll already appears to be over a thousand, with the number of wounded closing in on three thousand."
"My God."
"I've spoken twice with Ambassador Rebeiz in the last few minutes. He just called the Turkish foreign minister to offer our sympathies and full support. Our military forces in the country — including our base at Incirlik— all appear unaffected so far. But I should be getting an update at the top of the hour from DoD."
"Good. Get Rebeiz back on the phone. Have him call President Sezer and Prime Minister Gul and give them my personal condolences. Let them know I've authorized the full resources of our government to provide anything he and his people need — search and rescue, medical facilities and personnel, the Army Corps of Engineers, whatever." Yes, sir.
"And make sure the Red Cross and other groups are doing whatever they can."
"We'll get right on it, sir."
"What about the second quake?"
"It happened in northwestern India, near Kashmir, about eighteen, maybe nineteen minutes ago. That one hit eight point one — casualties are mounting fast but we don't have any solid numbers yet."
Kirkpatrick could hear the president gasp.
"We've just established an open line with our embassy," she continued. "I haven't had a moment to talk with Ambassador Koshy yet, but same drill as Turkey?"
"Absolutely. Get State involved right away, and get somebody on the horn with the Pakistanis. The last thing we need is a humanitarian rescue operation near Kashmir to be perceived as provocative by General Musharraf or the ISI."
"You got it, sir. Anything else?"
"Just tell me Bennett and McCoy are safe."
"I can't, sir. Not yet."
The president couldn't get his mind off them.
McCoy was practically a third daughter. MacPherson and his wife, Julie, had known her all her life. They'd known her father since Vietnam. He and Sean McCoy had been close friends. MacPherson was flying F4 Phantom fighter jets off the decks of aircraft carriers in the Sea of Japan. McCoy was a SEAL team commander, and one of the most decorated commandos in the navy. He'd eventually joined the CIA and worked his way up to the deputy director of operations.