Honor Among Thieves Read online

  He went on to say he had every reason to believe that Saddam was, once again, developing a nuclear weapon, and Tel Aviv and Haifa still had to be the first candidates for any warhead.

  “Try not to forget, Mr. Secretary, that we’ve already had to take out their nuclear reactors once in the past decade,” the Prime Minister said. “And if necessary, we’ll do so again.”

  Christopher nodded, but made no comment.

  “And were the Iraqis to succeed in developing a nuclear weapon,” continued Rabin, “no amount of compensation or sympathy would help us this time. And I’m not willing to risk the consequences of that happening to the Israeli people while I’m Prime Minister.”

  Christopher still offered no opinion.

  “For over two years since the Gulf War ended, we have waited for the downfall of Saddam Hussein, either at the hands of his own people or, at least, by some outside influence encouraged by you. As each month goes by, the Israeli people are increasingly wondering if Operation Desert Storm was ever a victory in the first place.”

  Christopher still didn’t interrupt the Israeli Prime Minister’s flow.

  “The Israeli Government feels it has waited long enough for others to finish the job.” He paused to allow the implications of his statement to sink in. “We have therefore prepared a plan to assassinate Saddam Hussein. We have at last discovered a way of breaching Saddam’s security and even possibly of being invited into his bunker. Even so, this will still be a more difficult operation than those which led to the capture of Eichmann and the rescue of hostages at Entebbe.”

  The Secretary of State looked up. “And are you willing to share this knowledge with us?” he asked quietly.

  Scott knew what the reply would be even before the Prime Minister spoke, and so, he suspected, did Christopher.

  “No, sir, I am not,” replied Rabin, looking down at the page in front of him. “The only purpose of my statement is to ensure we do not clash with your colleagues from the CIA, since we have information which suggests that they are currently considering such a plan themselves.”

  Dexter Hutchins thumped his knee with a clenched fist. Scott hastily wrote a two-word note and passed it across to Susan. She removed her glasses, read the message and looked back at him. Scott nodded firmly, so she once again leaned forward and placed the note in front of the Secretary of State. He glanced at Scott’s words, and this time he reacted immediately.

  “We have no such plan,” said Christopher. “I can assure you, Prime Minister, that your information is not correct.” Rabin looked surprised. “And may I add that we naturally hope you will not consider any such action yourselves without keeping President Clinton fully informed.”

  It was the first time the President’s name had been brought into play, and Scott admired the way the Secretary of State had applied pressure without any suggestion of a threat.

  “I hear your request,” replied the Prime Minister, “but I must tell you, sir, that if Saddam is allowed to continue developing his nuclear arsenal, I cannot expect my people to sit by and watch.”

  Christopher had reached the compromise he needed, and perhaps even gained a little time. For the next twenty minutes the Secretary of State tried to steer the conversation onto more friendly territory, but everyone in that room knew that once their guests had departed only one subject would come under discussion.

  When the meeting was concluded the Secretary instructed his own staff to wait in the conference room while he accompanied the Prime Minister to his limousine. He returned a few minutes later with only one question for Scott.

  “How can you be so sure Rabin was bluffing when he suggested we were also preparing a plan to eliminate Saddam? I watched his eyes and he gave away nothing,” said Christopher.

  “I agree, sir,” replied Scott. “But it was the one sentence he delivered in two hours that he read word for word. I don’t even think he had written it himself. Some adviser had prepared the statement. And, more important, Rabin didn’t believe it.”

  “Do you believe the Israelis have a plan to assassinate Saddam Hussein?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Scott. “And what’s more, despite what Rabin says about restraining his people, I suspect it was his idea in the first place. I think he knows every detail, including the likely date and place.”

  “Do you have any theories on how they might go about it?”

  “No, sir, I don’t,” replied Scott.

  Christopher turned to Susan. “I want to meet with Ed Djerijian and his senior Mideastern people in my office in one hour, and I must see the President before he departs for Houston.”

  Christopher turned to leave, but as he reached the door, he glanced back. “Thank you, Scott. I’m glad you were able to get away from Yale. It looks as if we’re going to be seeing a lot more of you over the next few weeks.” The Secretary of State disappeared out of the room.

  “May I add my thanks, too,” said Susan as she gathered up her papers and scurried after her boss.

  “My pleasure,” said Scott, before adding, “Care to join me for dinner tonight? Jockey Club, eight o’clock?”

  Susan stopped in her tracks. “You must do your research more thoroughly, Professor Bradley. I’ve been living with the same man for the past six years and—”

  “—and I heard it wasn’t going that well lately,” interjected Scott. “In any case, he’s away at a conference in Seattle, isn’t he?”

  She scribbled a note and passed it over to Dexter Hutchins. Dexter read the two words and laughed before passing it on to Scott: “He’s bluffing.”

  When the two of them had been left alone, Dexter Hutchins also had one question that he needed answered.

  “How could you be so sure that we aren’t planning to take Saddam out?”

  “I’m not,” admitted Scott. “But I am certain that the Israelis don’t have any information to suggest we are.”

  Dexter smiled and said, “Thanks for coming down from Connecticut, Scott. I’ll be in touch. I’ve got a hunch the plane to Washington is going to feel like a shuttle for you over the next few months.” Scott nodded, relieved that the term was just about to end and no one would expect to see him around for several weeks.

  Scott took a cab back to the Ritz Carlton, returned to his room and began to pack his overnight case. During the past year he’d considered a hundred ways that the Israelis might plan to assassinate Saddam Hussein, but all of them had flaws because of the massive protection that always surrounded the Iraqi President wherever he went. Scott felt certain also that Prime Minister Rabin would never sanction such an operation unless there was a good chance that his operatives would get home alive. Israel didn’t need that sort of humiliation on top of all its other problems.

  Scott flicked on the evening news. The President was heading to Houston to carry out a fund-raiser for Senator Krueger before the special May elections. His plane had been late taking off from Andrews. There was no explanation as to why he was running behind schedule—the new President was quickly gaining a reputation for working by Clinton Standard Time. All the White House correspondent was willing to say was that he had been locked in talks with the Secretary of State. Scott switched off the news and checked his watch. It was a little after seven, and his flight wasn’t scheduled until 9:40. Just enough time to grab a bite before he left for the airport. He’d only been offered sandwiches and a glass of milk all day, and figured that the CIA at least owed him a decent meal.

  Scott went downstairs to the Jockey Club and was taken to a seat in the corner. A noisy congressman was telling a blonde half his age that the President had been locked in a meeting with Warren Christopher because “they were discussing my amendment to the defense budget.” The blonde looked suitably impressed, even if the maître d’ didn’t.

  Scott ordered the smoked salmon, a sirloin steak and a half bottle of Mouton Cadet before once again going over everything the Israeli Prime Minister had said at the meeting. But he concluded that the shrewd politician h