Rounding out the team were two dozen male and female "house staff," all agents from the CIA's Directorate of Operations, sent by Danny Tracker to Gibraltar to cook, clean, do errands, provide communications and administrative support, and act as a backup security detail. Nine were on duty from 6:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. Nine more from 2:00 p.m. until 10:00 at night. Six took the night shift. All were experienced field operatives. All spoke fluent Arabic, Farsi, or Hebrew, and were all handpicked by Tracker and approved first by Jack Mitchell, then by the president and vice president themselves.
At 8:00 a.m., Galishnikov was still in his room, sound asleep. The house staff finished serving the four principals, then cleared the room and locked the doors behind them. Meanwhile, the American security details maintained their protective vigilance, even inside a mountain protected by a detachment of Royal Marines and three infantry rifle companies of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment, British army commandos.
Bennett took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and smiled at his two friends. This was really it. Even though his presentation was merely a briefing — perhaps even of information these two men already knew, at least in part, from their own governments — he still had butterflies. He wasn't simply beginning a conversation with two friends. They were leaders of two nations — nations at war.
"First of all, again," Bennett began, still seated, "on behalf of President MacPherson and his senior team, and Erin and myself, let me welcome you to the 'Mount of Olives.' " Both men nodded graciously.
"And let me say thank you to both of you for the courage you've displayed already by agreeing to these talks, and waging a very difficult war against the extremists who have spilled so much blood to keep these talks, and others before them, either from happening at all or bearing any fruit." Again, both men nodded.
"These aren't exactly the most scenic accommodations," he continued, getting a small laugh, "but we'll do everything we can to make your stay as comfortable as possible, and to make sure you both have secure communications with your home governments, and plenty of time to confer with your advisors by telephone or by videoconference. Again, our only request is that everyone maintain strict operational security, that none of your teams refer to our actual location during any of their communications, simply to the Mount of Olives. My security team, as I'm sure you know, has already briefed your teams about a wide range of contingency operations, should anything go wrong. But so long as the world doesn't know where we are, we don't foresee any problems."
Bennett took another sip of water, then shifted gears. "If you'll indulge me for a moment, I'd like to begin this morning with a story. One of Aesop's fables, to be precise — the story of the North Wind and the Sun."
He hadn't told McCoy about this. He hadn't been entirely sure he'd go through with it. Now he was trying to ignore the intense curiosity in her eyes.
"The North Wind boasted of great strength," Bennett began. "The Sun argued that there was great power in gentleness. 'We shall have a contest,' said the Sun. Far below, a man traveled a winding road. He was wearing a warm winter coat. 'As a test of strength,' said the Sun, 'let us see which of us can take the coat off of that man.' 'It will be quite simple for me to force him to remove his coat,' bragged the Wind. The Wind blew so hard, the birds clung to the trees. The world was filled with dust and leaves. But the harder the wind blew down the road, the tighter the shivering man clung to his coat. Then, the Sun came out from behind a cloud. Sun warmed the air and the frosty ground. The man on the road unbuttoned his coat. The sun grew slowly brighter and brighter. Soon the man felt so hot, he took off his coat and sat down in a shady spot. 'How did you do that?' said the Wind. 'It was easy,' said the Sun, 'I lit the day, and through gentleness I got my way.' "
His tone was not accusatory. But he was firm, and direct, and to the point.
"We all want something from each other. You both want something from each other. Your people want something each of you is unsure he can deliver. Those who've gone before us have failed. I'm not here to assign blame. I'm not here to point fingers. But let's be honest with one another. Maybe one side wasn't ready. Maybe neither was ready. Perhaps the U.S. wasn't perceived as being an honest broker. Perhaps we weren't. But for whatever reason — and I suspect there were many — our predecessors failed to make peace, and many more from all sides lie dead. I hope we can all agree that the North Wind's approach hasn't worked."
Bennett was trying to be evenhanded. It was hard to read the thoughts behind each man's stony exterior. But he continued
"The bluster. The rhetoric. The ultimatums. The violence on both sides. None of it has worked — not in and of itself — unless we accept that all of it has brought us to this point, to this place, to you two men as leaders of two great nations. And now we have a shot at accomplishing something extraordinary: a real peace, a lasting peace. Let's not kid ourselves. The road to peace is narrow. It won't be easy. Broad is the path that leads to destruction. The way to peace is hard to find. But all I ask, all my government asks of you both, is that we not miss that narrow path in the heat of the moment. Let us not miss it for our lack of gentleness."
THIRTY-SEVEN
Breakfast went well enough.
Both leaders seemed satisfied that Operation Palestinian Freedom was proceeding according to plan, and accomplishing real results. Both were also impressed by McCoy's briefing and her breaking news.
Overnight, federal agents had intercepted six suicide bombers trying to cross in the U.S. — three in Maine, two at the Niagara Falls border, and one in a dramatic shoot-out in Washington State that left the suspected terrorist dead and two U.S. border guards in the hospital. With the exception of the Washington incident, none of the others had been reported by the media yet. The five Syrians, Saudis, and Palestinians in federal custody were being interrogated, and no official announcements would be made until it was determined whether these men were willing to talk.
At one o'clock in the afternoon local time, the four principals reassembled for a working lunch. They munched on pita, hummus, various salads, light sandwiches, soft drinks, and sipped endless cups of Turkish coffee. Kosher provisions for Doron were brought in from a local restaurant, as was fresh baklava for Sa'id, and after an hour or so, they moved to a living-room area with four large, comfortable leather chairs surrounding a large glass table, upon which were bowls of fresh fruit, pitchers of cold water, a supply of napkins, and plenty of coasters for their drinks.
The mood was casual. Both sides were slowly beginning to warm up to each other. And once everyone had finished eating, Bennett began his second presentation of the day. It was aimed primarily at Doron, who was hearing the details of Bennett's oil-for-peace proposal for the first time. He'd been briefed by his Foreign Ministry officials, of course, and he'd read various tidbits about the plan in the papers. But Doron was looking forward to finally getting the full presentation directly from its chief architect.
"Gentlemen," Bennett began, "as you know, there's long been a common misperception that the Holy Land is the only place in the Middle East that isn't blessed with petroleum. Most people don't realize that since 1948, more than four hundred wells have been drilled in Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza. To be sure, many have come up dry, or haven't proven to possess commercial quantities of oil and natural gas. Some, on the other hand, have proven to be quite valuable. But until recently, most people have had absolutely no idea exactly how much black gold is actually there."
Bennett reached for his glass, took another sip of water, and continued.