“Yes, and the Old Man was pleased to receive it. But the Soviets told him when he was in Moscow last month that the American peace plan is dead.”
“They may be right, about the current version,” said Rogers.
Jamal looked at him with genuine astonishment. In the Middle East, such candor was rare indeed.
“The situation isn’t ripe yet,” continued Rogers. “The Egyptians and Israelis are telling us privately that they are interested in negotiations. But they are also in the midst of a war of attrition along the Suez Canal. For now, they would both probably rather fight than make peace.”
“That is what the Old Man says,” answered Jamal. “He is waiting for the next war.”
“So are we,” said Rogers. “That is the sad truth about the Middle East. The opportunities for creative diplomacy come after wars.”
“People who are humiliated in war cannot make peace,” said Jamal. “The Arabs must win this time.”
Rogers poured another glass of whisky for Jamal and one for himself.
“Let us suppose that after the next war, there are peace negotiations,” said Rogers. “Would Fatah agree to join in discussions?”
“That depends,” replied the Palestinian.
“On what?” pressed Rogers.
Jamal laughed.
“You are asking questions as if I was a foreign minister,” he said. “But I don’t even have a country.”
They stopped for food and more drink. The bottle of whisky was soon gone and they opened another. It was past midnight when they turned to the most delicate topic: the looming conflict in Jordan between the king and the commandos.
Jamal probed to understand the American position.
“If there is a real civil war in Jordan, will the United States stay out?” he asked.
“I can’t answer that,” said Rogers.
“Suppose there was a constitutional monarchy, with a Palestinian prime minister. Would America recognize such a government?”
“I can’t answer that either,” said Rogers.
“Well, what can you tell me?” demanded Jamal.
Rogers spoke very carefully. He had been briefed in detail on how to respond to queries about the situation in Jordan.
“The United States believes that the problems of the Palestinian people shouldn’t be solved at the expense of Jordan. The King is a loyal friend of America, and the United States will support him in taking appropriate measures to protect his kingdom. We hope that Fatah will act responsibly to avoid a confrontation. Fatah shouldn’t doubt American resolve on the Jordan issue.”
Jamal listened intently. Rogers suspected that he was trying to commit the statement to memory.
“Would you like that in writing?” asked Rogers.
“Please,” said the Palestinian. He looked embarrassed, as if he had been caught in the midst of his own espionage operation.
Rogers retreated to the bedroom and retrieved from his brief case two sheets of paper. He handed Jamal the one that contained the Jordan position, nearly word for word identical to what he had just said.
Jamal read the text several times.
“It looks to me as if you are telling us to go to hell!” said the Palestinian.
“No,” said Rogers. “But perhaps we are telling you to go to Lebanon.”
“And then?”
“On behalf of the President, I give you a commitment that the United States respects the legitimate rights and aspirations of the Palestinian people and will seek a just solution to the Palestinian problem in all its aspects, based on the principles set forth in United Nations Resolution 242.”
“Copy, please.”
Rogers handed him the second sheet of paper, stating the American position on the Palestinian problem.
“What does this statement mean?” asked Jamal.
“We shall discover that together,” said the American, more than a little curious himself.
The sun rose in a quick burst of pink at the eastern rim of the Persian Gulf, and then climbed majestically in the sky amid deeper tones of red and gold. Rogers and Jamal watched this splendid sight from their chairs on the deck of the beach house, where they sat drinking Turkish coffee.
“What do you want from me?” asked Jamal as he sipped his coffee.
“We want security assistance. We want to know about terrorist operations that endanger the lives of Americans. We want more of what you just brought me: names, dates, passport numbers, work names. You say that you oppose international terrorist operations. Then help us!”
“What is the benefit for Fatah?”
“The promise of American help in resolving the Palestinian problem. If you are honest, you will realize that this provides the only realistic chance of achieving your goals.”
“How will you protect me from the Israelis?” asked Jamal.
“We won’t. That’s your problem. But we do guarantee to keep the fact of your contact with us secret. If you agree to continue meeting with me, your identity will be known by only four people: me, the chief of station in Beirut, my division chief, and the Director of Central Intelligence. All of us will do our best to protect this operation.”
“And if you make a mistake?”
“We don’t make mistakes,” said Rogers. “I haven’t lost an agent in ten years.”
“I’m not an agent!” said Jamal sharply.
“Of course not,” answered Rogers quickly. He thought for a moment that he had blown it.
Jamal rubbed his eyeballs. In the soft morning light, he looked younger and more vulnerable than he had the previous day.
“Will you work with us?” said Rogers. He was a salesman now and it was time to close the deal.
“It’s not my decision alone. I have to discuss it with the Old Man.”
“That’s not enough. I need an answer!”
“You already have it.”
“What is it?” said Rogers, raising his voice.
“It is not no.”
“Say it!”
“Yes,” said Jamal at last. “I will work with you. If the Old Man approves.”
“Will you tell him everything about our meeting?”
“Almost everything. But not everything. There are some things he wouldn’t understand.”
“Then we have a deal,” said Rogers, shaking Jamal’s hand.
He sat back in his chair, put his lucky cowboy boots up on the railing of the deck, and watched the sun climb upwards in the heavens.
PART IV
March-May 1970
15
Beirut; March 1970
Yakov Levi noted Rogers’s return to Beirut on a file card in a box he kept at the office. Levi entered the dates
