know of. Maybe it's only for the president and a few of his best buddies, who knows?'
I didn't touch my cup, just kept flicking through the pages, looking for things I understood. I heard him slurp another mouthful of tea, and then a loud swallow.
'There will be a lot in there that is of no use to you whatsoever.
He just pulled down any document containing information that might be relevant. He's such a nice boy. Drink your tea, Nick, it'll get cold.'
I nodded and didn't say a word. He got the hint; I heard the cup go down on its saucer. Mickey stood up and went back into the kitchen, then returned with his laptop bag.
'Nick, I hope you find it interesting reading.
I've left the milk and tea for you.'
I looked up at him.
'Thanks, mate.'
'Of course, you'll destroy all the files before you leave?'
'No problem.'
He got to the door and turned, dangling the apartment keys between his thumb and index finger.
'By the way, send my love to Sarah. Tell her, if she needs these, I'll be leaving them with Wayne.'
I looked at him, trying to look confused.
'Er, what?'
His eyes twinkled.
'Oh, you are so transparent, Nick! PV? Pants, that's what it is, a load of frilly old pants. I'm not that mad, you know. I bet they told you I was, didn't they? Well, let's just let them think it. Pension, that's what it's all about, my absolutely gorgeous disability pension.' Still highly amused with the whole thing, he turned to leave.
I said, 'Michael, thank your friend for all his help.'
He looked back with a smile that suggested it had already been taken care of.
'Been there, done that. Now remember, say a special hello to Sarah for me. Byeee.' The door closed behind him. I got off the settee and turned the lock. If anybody decided to hit the place, it should at least give me enough time to get the papers down the toilet.
I checked out Baby-G. An hour to go before the RV with Sarah. I pulled out the papers that were tagged Intelink-P: Executive Order 12958.
I turned the pages, but they meant nothing to me, just lots of directions on security of documents. Maybe Mickey's friend had a sense of humor.
Next was Executive Order 12863 on the PFIAB (President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board) and Executive Order 12968: Access to Classified Information. I thumbed through acres of stuff that was full of abbreviations and acronyms. I understood ziff.
Then I saw the reason I had been given it. One of the subparagraphs was entitled, 'Yousef.' I felt a jolt of adrenaline.
I read slowly, making sure I understood every word.
Since 1995, several senior officials in Clinton's administration had been under surveillance by the FBI. At first they suspected that one of them was spying for the Saudi government, but more recently that information was being leaked to Bin Laden. According to this report, the hunt for Yousef had narrowed to include a senior official on the National Security Council, the 1,200-strong body that advises the president on intelligence and defense-related matters. Its office is in the White House.
I picked up my lukewarm tea. It tasted shit; I'd have to make a new brew. I went to the kitchen with the files. There was plenty of jargon and junk, but it was clear that the hunt for Yousef had begun after the interception of a message between Washington and Bin Laden's farm in the Sudan that hinted about an agent who might be able to get a copy of a secret letter signed by Warren Christopher, then secretary of state, that spelled out American commitments to the Palestinians in the Middle East peace process.
The handler in the Sudan had replied, 'That is not what we use Yousef for.'
The report carried on to say that they believed there was little chance of discovering Yousef's identity after the intercept, because he would have been one of the first to learn about it on Intelink. All communication between him and his handlers would have ceased. I had a quiet laugh to myself.
Maybe that was what the fourth level of Intelink was all about: trying to keep people like him out of the loop.
There were references to other documents relating to Yousef, but Mickey's friend hadn't included them. I placed the cup on the floor and picked up the other Intelink-P file. Its tag told me it was a CIA document, entitled simply, 'Counter-terrorism Center.' It wasn't the whole document, just the introduction, but even that ran to fifteen pages. I definitely needed more tea.
When the Clinton administration endorsed the idea of specialized units to infiltrate terrorist operations and disrupt them, the CIA established the Counterterrorism Center as a central clearing house for intelligence. Its aim was to 'give the president more options for action against foreign terrorists to further preempt, disrupt and defeat international terrorism.'
These options included covert operations designed to prevent terrorism, or to take revenge for successful attacks on Americans. New cadres of undercover CIA officers were sent overseas, and the use of CIA teams was expanded to assess and predict threats against United States military personnel deployed abroad.
Part of this strategy was a new level of cooperation between the intelligence agency and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, its traditional rival.
Senior FBI agents stationed overseas held long and successful meetings with CIA station chiefs the first at the United States Embassy in Rome, the second at the embassy in London to work out ways to cooperate against terrorists and other international criminals.
The kettle boiled and cut out. I left it for a while; this was getting interesting.
I knew that such a meeting would have been unthinkable as recently as two years ago, when the two agencies were at each other's throats over their conduct in the investigation and arrest of Aldrich Ames, a spy for Moscow inside the CIA.
I put the file down, threw a tea bag into a cup and poured. The next page dealt with Sarah's group. The unit had scored several successes. British police raided the London home of an Algerian named Rachid Ramda and found links with the Armed Islamic Group, an Algerian organization suspected of seven bombings in France that killed seven and wounded 180 in 1997. The police also discovered records of money transfers, and traced them to Bin Laden's headquarters in the Sudan.
In Egypt, security officials uncovered a conspiracy by the extremist group Islamic Jihad to assassinate President Hosni Mubarak. It seemed that Sarah's group was investigating evidence that Bin Laden helped fund the plot. They also had evidence that Bin Laden was the major backer of a camp in Afghanistan called Kunar, which provided training for recruits of Islamic Jihad and the Islamic Group, both Egyptian terrorist organizations.
This was in addition to the three terrorist training camps in northern Sudan, which Bin Laden helped to fund, and where extremists from Egypt, Algeria and Tunisia received instruction.
I threw the tea bag into the sink, added milk and wandered back to the settee to read some more. Sarah's explanation of events was becoming more convincing as the minutes passed. I sat back down. To track Bin Laden's activities, the National Security Agency's eavesdropping satellites were used to listen in on telephone and e-mail conversations throughout the world. CIA analysts were able to determine that in January he had held a meeting with leading members of his network to prepare for a new wave of terrorism. Soon afterward he publicly announced his intentions when he issued a fat wa calling on Muslims to kill Americans.
I had a drink and held the cup on my chest, slumped on the sofa.
American officials are barred by executive order from planning an assassination.
But after the fat wa was issued. Bin Laden was named in a secret presidential covert action order on terrorism, signed by Bill Clinton, that authorized intelligence agencies to plan and carry out covert operations that might lead to death. Such a measure was necessary, the report concluded, for two reasons:
'I. We believe that Bin Laden is planning new terrorist acts against American interests.
'2. We believe that the question is not whether Bin Laden will strike again, but when.'
I bent my neck forward and drained the cup. I checked my watch; thirty minutes to go to the RV I went back into the kitchen and turned on the electric hob, then placed my cup and the two files I'd read on the work top
