Part 39 (1/2)
”Stop acting naive, Sean. It doesn't sit well on you.”
”Excuse me for thinking we were here to do the right thing.”
”How do you know we're not not doing the right thing?” doing the right thing?”
Regarding Phyllis, she's not shameless, but she has that annoying Was.h.i.+ngton syndrome, a stunning inability to blush, no matter how raw the lie or how awful the embarra.s.sment. I asked, ”What does Ali bin Pacha know that's scaring everybody?”
”Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot. But he's a Saudi, and his own countrymen can handle this better than we.”
”I know you don't believe that.”
An Air Force C-130 began sprinting down the runway, and she said something, but it was drowned out by the roar of the noisy engines. We stood, sharing a moment in silence, and watched the big plane lift off, and our eyes stayed on it as the pilot began a series of corkscrew maneuvers intended to elude ground-to-air missiles. This place sucked.
The pa.s.sengers in the rear of the aircraft were probably tossing their lunch; I was feeling a wave of nausea myself. ”What about Charabi?”
”Who?”
I looked at her. ”You can't allow this.”
”I follow orders.” After a moment she observed, ”Needless to say, you also will follow orders.”
”He betrayed us.”
”Do you know that for sure? You have a suspicion based on a flimsy circ.u.mstantial foundation. A few e-mails in a computer that belonged to a seriously troubled, contemptible man who perhaps committed suicide. Were you the defense attorney, would you allow that to be entered into evidence? I think not.” She didn't need to state the obvious, that her question was as abstract as it was specious, since I would never be allowed within ten miles of that computer or the incriminating e-mails. She did add, however, ”You have no tangible proof that Charabi pa.s.sed any secrets to the Iranians. He's not even a U.S. citizen. That's a requirement for an indictment for treason, is it not?”
”He's a suspect in the murder of Clifford Daniels. That's an extraditable offense.”
”You said the murderer was a woman.”
”I also told you I believe she was a hired hired a.s.sa.s.sin. She was the murder weapon, not the murderer.” a.s.sa.s.sin. She was the murder weapon, not the murderer.”
”There's that 'possibly' word again. I thought the law dealt with facts, and I thought innocence is presumed.”
These weasel words had a lawyerly ring, as if Phyllis was parroting the stupid rationale cooked up by the nameless powers that be back in D.C.
You can imagine how much I enjoy legal lectures, and I informed her, ”Investigations always begin with vague and uncertain suspicions, you dig a little, and you decide which suspicious a.s.sholes need a second look. And, if you're interested, the presumption of innocence pertains to jurors, not investigators. To the cop everybody is a suspect until proven otherwise.”
She did not reply.
”He's a suspect. He needs to be questioned.”
”He is an Iraqi citizen. This is Iraq. You have neither the legal basis nor the authority, nor the access to question him.”
”No problem. I'll just walk into his office and ask a few questions. Perfectly harmless. Man-to-man. See where it goes.”
”I was instructed to convey three words: Forget about him.”
We locked eyes for a moment.
She said, ”The Iraqi people are scheduled to have their first election in January. This is a critical milestone to victory in this war, a necessary step for bringing our troops home. Mahmoud Charabi--maybe you read this in the papers--is a leading contender for future prime minister.”
”And that's why why he needs to be investigated. What if he's elected, and what if he's working for Iran, and what if he's behind the murder of Cliff Daniels? That won't be good for America, and that's not what my comrades in arms are fighting and dying for.” he needs to be investigated. What if he's elected, and what if he's working for Iran, and what if he's behind the murder of Cliff Daniels? That won't be good for America, and that's not what my comrades in arms are fighting and dying for.”
”Why is irrelevant. Pay attention. Neither you nor I are allowed to carry this any further.” She pointed a finger, daggerlike, into my arm and invoked those sacred words: ”That's an order.” is irrelevant. Pay attention. Neither you nor I are allowed to carry this any further.” She pointed a finger, daggerlike, into my arm and invoked those sacred words: ”That's an order.”
”What's going on here?”
There was silence for a moment. Eventually, Phyllis said, ”Two words, this time: Martin Lebrowski.”
”Who?”
”The man you know as Don.”
”Am I going to dislike Martin as much as I dislike Don?”
”More.” She added, ”The leak of the Iranian operation occurred on his watch. He was responsible for all aspects of that operation. Especially, operational security. Lebrowski was facing a serious career crisis.”
”Lebrowski never should have had a career in the first place.”
”Whatever. He has more savvy than I gave him credit for. Right after Martin departed our meeting he called a few friends, on the NSC staff and at the Defense Department. He disclosed what we knew.” She added, ”The details were off, but it didn't matter.”
”What happened next?”
”What do you think happened next?”
Her response was as rhetorical as my question. This was Was.h.i.+ngton--a meeting happened next. The bright boys scrummed around a long mahogany table in a lushly carpeted back room and collectively they realized that, with a seesaw election mere days away, the opposition could begin picking out Secret Service nicknames and contacting their real estate agents. One meeting always begets the next, and this time Phyllis and her boss were invited, not as guests but as factotums to hear their marching orders. I asked her, ”And what was Martin's reward?”
”Oh, well . . . he now works in the White House. On the National Security Council staff. A special a.s.sistant to the President.”
”I love when the good guy wins.”
”Martin outsmarted us--”
”Martin outsmarted you you. Personally, I thought he was an a.s.shole.”
”All right . . . me. There's nothing to be done about it now.”
She was right, of course. And actually, I felt a pang of guilt for indulging in that bratty told-you-so. I can rise above the vindictive and small-minded stuff. Then again, she doesn't; why should I?
I stared at her for a moment, then said, ”Let's make sure I'm clear on all this. In summary: Ali bin Pacha will be interrogated by his homies, Lebrowski has a new desk with job security, Charabi has a papal dispensation, and . . . what have I missed?”
”A few details. Nothing important.”
Actually there was something important--me. I asked, ”Where does this leave Bian and me?”
”Oh . . . yes. You will complete this leg of the investigation. Actually, the people who redirected this operation are very impressed with both of you.”