“The Boss wants to know what the hell is going on over there,” the Chief of Staff opened.
“So do I.” Charles Alden, the President's National Security Advisor, entered the room. “Sorry I'm late, Arnie.”
“So do we, gentlemen,” Jack replied. “That hasn't changed in a couple of years. You want the best stuff we've got?”
“Sure,” Alden said.
“Next time you fly to Moscow, look out for a large white rabbit with waistcoat and pocket watch. If he offers you a trip down a rabbit hole, take it and let me know what you find down there,” Ryan said with mock gravity. “Look, I'm not one of those right-wing idiots who moans for a return to the Cold War, but then, at least, the Russians were predictable. The poor bastards are starting to act like we do now. They're unpredictable as hell. The funny part is, now I can understand what a pain in the ass we always were to the KGB. The political dynamic over there is changing on a daily basis. Narmonov is the sharpest political in-fighter in the world, but every time he goes to work, it's another crisis.”
“What sort of cat is he?” van Damm asked. “You've met the man.” Alden had met Narmonov, but van Damm had not.
“Only once,” Ryan cautioned.
Alden settled down in an armchair. “Look, Jack, we've seen your file. So has the Boss. Hell, I've almost got him to respect you. Two Intelligence Stars, the submarine business, and, Jesus, the thing with Gerasimov. I've heard of still waters running deep, fella, but never this deep. No wonder Al Trent thinks you're so damned smart.” The Intelligence Star was CIA's highest decoration for performance in the field. Jack actually had three. But the citation for the third was locked away in a very safe place, and was something so secret that even the new President didn't and would never know. “So prove it. Talk to us.”
“He's one of those rare ones. He thrives on chaos. I've met docs like that. There are some, a rare few, who keep working in emergency rooms, doing trauma and stuff like that, after everybody else burns out. Some people just groove to pressure and stress, Arnie. He's one of them. I don't think he really likes it, but he's good at it. He must have the physical constitution of a horse—”
“Most politicians do,” van Damm observed.
“Lucky them. Anyway, does Narmonov really know where he's going? I think the answer is both yes and no. He has some sort of idea where he's moving his country to, but how he gets there, and exactly where he's going to be when he arrives, that he doesn't know. That's the kind of balls the man has.”
“So, you like the guy.” It was not a question.
“He could have snuffed my life out as easy as popping open this can of Coke, and he didn't. Yeah,” Ryan admitted with a smile, “that does compel me to like him a little. You'd have to be a fool not to admire the man. Even if we were still enemies, he'd still command respect.”
“So we're not enemies?” Alden asked with a wry grin.
“How can we be?” Jack asked in feigned surprise. “The President says that's a thing of the past.”
The Chief of Staff grunted. “Politicians talk a lot. That's what they're paid for. Will Narmonov make it?”
Ryan looked out the window in disgust, mainly at his own ability to answer the question. “Look at it this way: Andrey Il'ych has got to be the most adroit political operator they've ever had. But he's doing a high-wire act. Sure, he's the best around, but remember when Karl Wallenda was the best high-wire guy around? He ended up as a red smear on the sidewalk because he had one bad day in a business where you only get one goof. Andrey Il'ych is in the same kind of racket. Will he make it? People have been asking that for eight years! We think so — I think so — but… but, hell this is virgin ground, Arnie. We've never been here before. Neither has he. Even a god-damned weather forecaster has a data base to help him out. The two best Russian historians we have are Jake Kantrowitz at Princeton and Derek Andrews at Berkley, and they're a hundred-eighty degrees apart at the moment. We just had them both into Langley two weeks ago. Personally I lean towards Jake's assessment, but our senior Russian analyst thinks Andrews is right. You guys pays your money and you takes your choice. That's the best we got. You want pontification, check the newspapers.”
Van Damm grunted and went on. “Next hot spot?”
“The nationalities question is the big killer,” Jack said. “You don't need me to tell you that. How will the Soviet Union break up — what republics will leave — when and how, peacefully or violently? Narmonov is dealing with that on a daily basis. That problem is here to stay.”
“That's what I've been saying for about a year. How long to let things shake out?” Alden wanted to know.
“Hey, I'm the guy who said East Germany would take at least a year to change over— I was the most optimistic guy in town at the time, and I was wrong by eleven months. Anything I or anyone else tells you is a wild-ass guess.”
“Other trouble spots?” van Damm asked next.
“There's always the Middle East —” Ryan saw the man's eyes light up.
“We want to move on that soon.”
“Then I wish you luck. We've been working on that since Nixon and Kissinger back during the '73 semifinals. It's chilled out quite a bit, but the fundamental problems are still there, and sooner or later it's going to be thawed. I suppose the good news is that Narmonov doesn't want any part of it. He may have to support his old friends, and selling them weapons is a big money-maker for him, but if things blow up, he won't push like they did in the old days. We learned that with Iraq. He might continue to pump weapons in — I think he won't, but it's a close call — but he will do nothing more than that to support an Arab attack on Israel. He won't move his ships, and he won't alert troops. I doubt he's willing even to back them if they rattle their sabers a little. Andrey Il'ych says those weapons are for defense, and I think he means it, despite the word we're getting from the Israelis.”
“That's solid?” Alden asked. “State says different.”
“State's wrong,” Ryan replied flatly.
“So does your boss,” van Damm pointed out.
“In that case, sir, I must respectfully disagree with the DCI's assessment.”
Alden nodded. “Now I know why Trent likes you. You don't talk like a bureaucrat. How have you lasted so long, saying what you really think?”
“Maybe I'm the token.” Ryan laughed, then turned serious. “Think about it. With all the ethnic crap he's dealing with, taking an active role bears as many dangers as advantages. No, he sells weapons for hard currency and only when the coast is clear. That's business, and that's as far as it goes.”
“So, if we can find a way to settle things down…?” Alden mused.
“He might even help. At worst, he'll stand by the sidelines and bitch that he's not in the game. But tell me, how do you plan to settle things down?”
“Put a little pressure on Israel,” van Damm replied simply.
“That's dumb for two reasons. It's wrong to pressure Israel until their security concerns are alleviated, and their security concerns will not be alleviated until some of the fundamental issues are settled first.”
“Like…?”
“Like what is this conflict all about.” The one thing that everyone overlooks.
“It's religious, but the damned fools believe in the same things!” van Damm growled. “Hell, I read the Koran last month, and it's the same as what I learned in Sunday school.”
That's true,“ Ryan agreed, ”but so what? Catholics and Protestants both believe that Christ is the son of God, but that hasn't stopped Northern Ireland from blowing up. Safest place in the world to be Jewish. The friggin' Christians are so busy killing one another off that they don't have time to be anti-Semitic. Look, Arnie, however slight the religious differences in either place may appear to us, to them they appear big enough to kill over. That's as big as they need to be, pal.'
“True, I guess,” the Chief of Staff agreed reluctantly. He thought for a moment. “ Jerusalem, you mean?”
“Bingo.” Ryan finished off his Coke and crushed the can before flipping it into van Damm's trash can for two. “The city is sacred to three religions — think of them as three tribes — but it physically belongs to only one of them. That one is at war with one of the others. The volatile nature of the region militates towards putting some armed troops in the place, but whose? Remember, some Islamic crazies shot up Mecca not that long ago. Now, if you put an Arab security force in Jerusalem, you create a security threat to Israel. If things stay as they are, with only an
