2 °C. They talked shop for a few moments before Bennett walked outside. He met the first two Tiger Force squadron commanders, Majors Handrah and Jauf, near the message center. All three men were to return to Bahrain that afternoon. Bennett intended to use the next few hours to see Claudia for lunch; they had much to discuss.
As the limousine pulled away from the curb, Bennett glanced across the street. 'Driver, could you please pull into that space up ahead?' The Saudi corporal immediately came to a stop. 'Excuse me just one moment please, gentlemen,' Bennett said to Handrah and Jauf, 'I need a word with the air attache.'
Bennett had glimpsed Colonel Glen Mallon, the Air Force delegate to the U.S. Embassy. One of the maintenance supervisors had asked Bennett to pass along a report to the attache's office, and this unexpected opportunity would save time later on. Time for Claudia.
Climbing from the rear seat with his briefcase, Bennett sprinted through traffic, barely dodging a kamikaze taxi, and hailed Mallon. The colonel stopped when he heard someone call his name and turned from his companion, another Air Force officer. Mallon turned toward Bennett, recognized him, and raised a hand in greeting.
Not quite to the opposite curb from the limousine, perhaps twenty-five yards diagonally up the street, Bennett felt the concussion a split second before the sound engulfed him from behind. He staggered forward, pushed by the force of the explosion, and fell. He caught himself with one hand on the curb, badly scraping the palm.
Bennett's survival instincts took over. He flopped face-down on the sidewalk, covering his head with his hands. For an instant he was back at DaNang that night in I968, sweating out a weather divert from Yankee Station while the North Vietnamese launched a rocket attack. The sound, the smoke, and flames, even the debris raining down upon him, all seemed the same. Risking a look, he raised his head and peeked over his shoulder. The limo was aflame, its ruptured gas tank feeding the blaze while thick black smoke boiled up.
Mallon had ducked at the sound of the explosion. Then, quickly recovering his poise, he saw Bennett on the curb a few yards away. He sprinted to Bennett's side. 'John! Hey, John. Are you all right?'
Bennett was too stunned to respond. Both men looked back across the street. Thirty yards away lay the burning wreckage not only of the limousine but of two other parked vehicles. Several passersby had been knocked down, and Bennett knew at a glance that some of them were dead.
Colonel Chaim Geller relaxed in his chair, an archaeology book propped open on his knees. Frequently he spent his lunch 'hour' this way, though he seldom had sixty minutes to eat anymore. There was so much for Israeli intelligence to keep track of in the region that everyone worked overtime at least three days out of six.
Geller thought of the report from Riyadh and pondered its meaning.. He also thought of young Levi Bar-El, now assigned to field intelligence with a parachute regiment. The eager youngster had declined the option to return to his previous position. Bar-El couldn't stand being a deskbound warrior anymore. Well, the boy's ability with Arabic and his call-up to active duty pointed in that direction. The section chief wondered whether Bar-El would ever hear of the latest event concerning the enigmatic Mr. Bennett.
Nearly all Tiger Force intelligence now went directly to the
This Bennett was a lucky one, all right, Geller mused. Had the American air attache not been on the street at the same time, Bennett certainly would have died in the car with the others. The natural question was, who and why?
Geller was miffed but not surprised to learn Israel was suspected by the Saudis. Ordnance specialists confirmed the C-4 explosive had been of U.S. manufacture, which to the outside world meant the Israelis could be involved. The section chief knew better and was reminded of the old professional dogma: never assume the obvious without good reason.
'Whom do you suspect?' the director of diplomatic intelligence had asked the colonel that morning.
'Abraham, I'd lay even money it's the Yemenis or the Iranians.'
'Explain. '
'The F-20s delivered a one-sided defeat upon the South Yemen Air Force a year ago. We have known, as you are aware, that most of the instructors are Americans. This bombing could shape up as revenge, pure and simple.'
The director tugged at his jowls. 'Yes, I agree that is possible. But Iran?'
'Things get complicated there. Just a moment.' Geller spun his chair, reached for a folder on his desk, and turned back. 'We have strong evidence that high-level diplomatic discussions have been going on between most of the Islamic fundamentalist states and many of their more moderate neighbors. The link seems to be this man.' Geller pulled a photograph from the folder.
'Ah, my old friend from Damascus!' The senior man's voice almost sounded jovial. 'Ali al-Badran.' He handed the picture back to Geller.
'Correct. He's probably the most skilled Arab diplomat, certainly the best and most experienced Syrian-'
'And he hates the very thought of Western devils conducting business in Arab countries. It's one of his ideological ties to the old Khomeini regime. That gives him credibility with the new clique in Tehran, which feels it has to pay lip service to the ayatollah's policies. '
Geller tossed a little salute to the older man. 'Very good, Abraham. You should consider a career in the intelligence field.'
“Maybe I will someday, after I've finished digging up ancient civilizations.' Archaeology was their common passion. That and the preservation of Israel. 'So you think the Iranians and perhaps Syrians want to kill the head of this separate Saudi air force as a precautionary move?'
Geller shrugged his round shoulders. 'It's one possibility. But I'll tell you one thing for sure. I wouldn't want to be in that American's shoes with two types of fanatics after me.'
'I understand he's overseeing construction of more advanced airfields in northern Arabia. Is that a threat to us?'
'It could be offensive or defensive, depending upon how the fields are used. It's not for me to interpret, thank God. That's the kind of interpretation which leads to unwarranted assumptions, which leads to unnecessary action, which leads to war.' He inhaled deeply. 'Let's pray that the politicians don't reach the wrong conclusions. '
His partner concurred solemnly. 'Amen to that.'
President Walter Arnold settled into his chair for the National Security Council briefing, aware of the officers and civilian aides deferentially waiting behind him. Nearly all had remarked in recent months how his appearance had changed. Three tough years in office had left their mark on the president's face; his tan was long gone, deep lines accented his eyes and mouth, and the trademark silver-gray hair was almost completely white.
The staff and aides took their seats as the chief executive sat down. It was a larger meeting than normal, for the pending crisis in the Middle East had expanded in scope and complexity. Arnold believed in diversity of opinion right up to the point when he made a decision. He had once told his chief of staff, 'No historian is going to write about me what they wrote about Kennedy-bad advice from bad advisers. By God, if I make a mistake of the Bay of Pigs magnitude, everyone with me is going to take the heat, too.'
As he had for nearly every week in the previous three years and more, Major General George Miller stood before the president to update the global military situation.
'Mr. President, there has been no indication of further overt action on the part of Arab air forces in the past several days. However, there is a high level of diplomatic activity among the Iranians, Syrians, and Iraqis, with lower levels of consultation with other Arab states. This includes meetings of the Syrian ambassador-at-large, Ali al-Badran, with traditional moderates from Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and the Emirates.'
Arnold knew this pattern had existed for at least several months, probably much longer. 'Okay. What about Egypt and Jordan?'
Miller was ready for that question. ''The Jordanian government continues to exist in exile, if you will, but of course without exercising much influence as to what happens there. We believe that return of Israeli-occupied Jordan to the Jordanians will be a cornerstone of any proposed settlement.
'As for Egypt, there is nothing to suggest the current fundamental regime will change its attitudes anytime soon. Cairo's geopolitical stance is somewhere between Riyadh and Tehran-not as extreme as the Iranians but
