Executive Power (37 page)

I
t had taken almost exactly an hour to figure out what had happened. The White House was under lockdown. No one was being allowed in or out. The president and the other principles had all been moved downstairs to the Situation Room. Jack Warch, the special agent in charge of the Presidential Detail, had originally ordered that everyone be taken to the bunker deep under the White House, but President Hayes had countermanded the order. He'd been in the bunker once before and had no desire to go back unless he absolutely had to.

When Warch saw how serious the president was, he relented. At a minimum he asked that they relocate to the Situation Room. Hayes agreed, and the National Security Team moved downstairs where they could monitor the crisis and stay in close contact with their various departments and agencies. The heavily armed and black-clad Secret Service Counter Assault Team had taken up defensive positions around the Executive Mansion and the West Wing. Stinger surface-to-air missiles had been unsheathed and readied on the rooftop and Stage Coach, the presidential limousine, was running and waiting on the South Grounds ready to evacuate the commander in chief from the premises if necessary.

The men and women under Warch's command had reacted with the precision and efficiency that he expected. They'd run the drills over and over until every agent and officer knew not only their own responsibilities, but those of the people who stood next to them. Now the one-hundred-plus-person force stood primed and poised, ready for whatever would happen next. As the minutes passed they began to realize that the White House was not a target. At least not today.

The initial reports that came into the Situation Room were that the State Department had been hit by a car bomb. Those reports were quickly proven inaccurate when Secretary of State Berg contacted her office and was told the point of the explosion was actually several blocks away on Virginia Avenue. The first real clues to the carnage were provided by a Fox TV crew that had been at the State Department doing a live shot. After recovering from the initial shock of the explosion they packed up their gear and hoofed it to the site of the detonation.

They were lucky enough to get to the scene before the Metropolitan Police could set up a perimeter. Fox broadcast live footage of fire crews trying to douse the flames of several twisted wrecks. The FBI and ATF arrived twenty minutes later and had the Fox TV crew moved to the other side of the barricades with the rest of the networks and cable outlets.

The bomb experts from the ATF and FBI quickly ascertained the exact point of detonation and found what little was left of the vehicle that had been used as the platform. After that everything was a little confusing. There were shattered windows on both sides of the street for at least a block in each direction. Injured people streamed out of office buildings, many of them with nothing more than paper towels to stem the blood that flowed from gashes caused by flying glass. The George Washington University Medical Center, just a few blocks to the north, was inundated with patients. Fortunately only a few of them had injuries that were life threatening.

The actual target of the bombing was not immediately obvious. Several cars were flipped, twisted and charred almost beyond recognition. Many of the buildings had received superficial damage, but none had collapsed. The true target of the attack came to light when someone from the Saudi embassy called to see if the ambassador was still at the White House. The answer was unfortunately no. It appeared the ambassador's staff, after seeing the footage, had tried to reach both the ambassador and his security detail. No one was answering their phones.

An FBI agent at the scene verified that one of the charred vehicles did in fact appear to be a limousine. It had taken the brunt of the explosion. Torn in half and flung across the street, it was now resting upside down in two pieces on the opposite sidewalk. The bodies inside the limousine were burned beyond recognition. The make of the vehicle was verified as a Mercedes with diplomatic plates. Prince Abdul Bin Aziz, the Royal Saudi ambassador to the United States of America, was dead.

President Hayes's range of emotions went from disbelief, to confusion, to outright anger. When Rapp entered the Situation Room for the second time the president was absolutely furious. He had been in the midst of trying to figure out what to say to the crown prince when CBS broke the story. The speculation began almost instantly. In the new twenty-four-hour news cycle it wasn't enough to just report the facts.

Talking heads were taking to the air on every station throwing the names of terrorist organizations around like they were corporations traded on the New York Stock Exchange. So-called experts were calling into question the effectiveness of the FBI and CIA and the new department of Homeland Security was being denounced by one particularly self-righteous pundit as a monumental failure.

During that initial media scramble to try to get ahold of the story, one lone voice caught the president's ear. A spokesman for the Palestinians wondered aloud if Israel could have been behind the assassination in an effort to delay the vote before the UN and drive a wedge between America and her greatest Arab ally. The story had struck such a chord that even Rapp paused to give it serious consideration. Both he and Kennedy shot each other quick, worried glances upon hearing the hypothesis.

If it wasn't for the fax that Rapp held in his hand he would have been more inclined to believe Israel was behind this entire operation. Prime Minister Goldberg was ruthless and daring enough to launch such a plan and Ben Freidman was the perfect person to carry it out. If this car bomb got pinned on any one of a dozen terrorist groups the crown prince and the rest of the House of Saud would put their wallets away and begin cracking down on fanatics like they had never done before. The Saudi ambassador and the crown prince were very close, having been raised together and schooled as if they were brothers. He was the perfect target, and what better place to do it than on U.S. soil.

Several things didn't fit, however. There was this mysterious John Doe seen meeting with Prince Omar twice in the last two weeks. There was the audio recording from the Brits that had them talking about war and money, and even more interesting was the sudden appearance of this John Doe in both New York City and Washington, D.C.

All of this could be explained away as some exotic operation by Mossad to put the Palestinians on the defensive, stick their finger in the eye of the UN and drive a wedge between the United States and Saudi Arabia. In a contorted complex way Rapp could see why Freidman might launch such an operation. The suicide bombs were not stopping and in the minds of men like Goldberg and Freidman action was always better than inaction. All of that fit with one exception.

Rapp held up the fax one more time and read it. This one piece of evidence unearthed by Dumond cast everything else they had in a different light. Rapp was about to tell Kennedy what the young hacker had discovered when a marine captain came up and told him he had an important phone call.

P
resident Hayes was leaning forward in his leather chair with both elbows planted on the long shiny conference table that dominated the Situation Room. One hand clutched the white receiver of his secure telephone unit and the other was placed over his brow to shield his eyes from any distraction. He was talking to the crown prince of Saudi Arabia, a man he considered his friend. The prince was someone who Hayes felt truly wanted to see east and west merge peacefully, but was unfortunately saddled with a populace that for the most part preferred religious rhetoric and inflammatory speech over enlightenment and liberty.

Hayes knew Crown Prince Faisal and his cousin were close. That made the call difficult enough, but it was also difficult because Hayes was embarrassed; embarrassed that such an attack had occurred on American soil, just blocks from the White House, just minutes after the ambassador had sat in the Oval Office and delivered an ultimatum that if not heeded would put the tenuous American economy into a downward spiral. An ultimatum that certain hard-liners in Washington would deem an act of war.

The thought of that news alone becoming public caused the president to become momentarily nauseous. The conspiracy nuts and leftist anti-oil crowd would have a field day with that juicy connection.
Saudi ambassador comes to White House, threatens oil embargo and then is killed in explosion after leaving meeting with the president.
This would be next to impossible to contain. No matter how innocent he was there would always be those who would forever believe President Robert Hayes or someone in his administration had had a hand in the ambassador's death.

Hayes, in his attempt to console the crown prince, stated over and over how sorry he was and that he would make sure the perpetrators were caught and brought to justice. Something in the crown prince's voice told Hayes that the monarch did not believe him. As a final gesture, Hayes asked the crown prince if there was anything he could do to help ease the pain. Crown Prince Faisal made only one request, and it was one that given the current situation the president knew he could not refuse.

President Hayes slowly hung up the phone and with the expression of a beaten man said, “Inform Ambassador Brieseth at the UN that we will be voting for the French resolution this afternoon.”

Secretary of State Berg and Chief of Staff Jones were alone with the president in the Situation Room. Both shifted in their chairs uncomfortably and exchanged nervous looks. It was Jones's job to speak first. She had known Hayes the longest and was his closest advisor.

In a soft voice Jones asked, “Robert, what did Faisal ask of you?”

“He does not want his cousin's death to be in vain. He wants me to help make a Palestinian state a reality.”

Jones nodded thoughtfully. She did not want to face an oil embargo, but neither did she want to face the wrath of the Jewish lobby. “I'm not saying we shouldn't do that, but don't you think we should talk about it?”

Hayes simply shook his head. “There's nothing left to talk about. I don't trust the Palestinians any more than you do, but the truth is I don't trust the Israelis either. If we don't vote for this resolution we'll once again look like we're doing Israel's bidding, and we can't continue to look so one-sided in the eyes of the Arab world.”

The secretary of state cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me, Mr. President, but Israel is the only democracy in a region dominated by dictators, corruption and a very dangerous strain of religious zealotry.”

“I know all that, but it doesn't change the fact that we'll once again look like we're favoring Israel. Add to that the fact that the Saudi ambassador delivered us an ultimatum and then his limousine was blown up….” Hayes paused in frustration and through gritted teeth said, “The Arab street will think we killed him. They'll hit us with an oil embargo and consumer prices will skyrocket and our economy will go right into the tank. We are boxed in.”

“Sir,” cautioned Berg, “there are better ways to do this. I can guarantee you that Israel will defy the UN if the French march this resolution through the Security Council. This vote, sir, could very easily lead to open war.” Berg leaned forward, stressing her next point. “We need to get a cease-fire in place first, and then come up with a well-thought-out plan and timetable, or all of this will be a disaster.”

“How? The French have made it abundantly clear that they will not delay the vote.”

“For starters, let's get Prime Minister Goldberg to pull his forces out of Hebron, and let's get him to do it immediately! The Israeli ambassador is in the building. We can deliver a stern ultimatum and demand immediate action.”

“And what about the vote?” asked a skeptical Hayes.

“We'll work on getting the French to delay it.”

Hayes lowered his head and thought about it for a moment. The idea of getting the Israelis to pull out of Hebron was appealing, but he'd learned long ago that getting the French to do anything was never easy. Halfheartedly he nodded his approval. “Let's do what we can, but if nothing has changed by the time the vote comes up, we're going to support it. I see no other choice.”