“I don’t know. We’re dealing with professional assassins here. You’ve both seen the movies. Who knows what those guys can do in real life,” Casey said. “Susan, all I’m saying is that I, for one, don’t want to just sit around until the next guy comes along and takes a shot at me. I want to do something about it.”
“And telling someone your theory about Israeli shenanigans to keep Iran from getting nukes is gonna protect you from those assassins?” Susan asked, half-mockingly.
“No, ma’am,” Casey said. “But at least I’ll have done everything I could to not make it easy for those guys.”
“It sounds like you want Iran to have nukes,” Phil said.
“Not particularly,” Casey said. “But I don’t want to see my country duped on the world stage when I had information to prevent that from happening.”
“So you’re Captain America. Is that it?” Phil asked condescendingly. He didn’t dislike Casey, but he felt there were two warring sides in the room, and his allegiance was unquestioningly with Susan.
“He just doesn’t like bullies,” Susan said softly. Phil was wrong.
Casey grinned. “In simple terms, yes.” He was glad Susan understood. “We each looked into the Baltic Venture for different reasons. I thought it was a fun diversion—a real-life puzzle to solve. You did it because it was your job. What we ended up with was the truth. We didn’t know it would piss people off as bad as it did. I certainly never imagined someone would try to kill me to keep me quiet, and I’m sure you didn’t see that coming either. But here we are.”
“And where is that, exactly?” Susan asked.
“It’s time to shit or get off the pot,” Casey said.
Phil spit out the beer that hadn’t quite made it down his throat. He coughed amidst chuckles and apologies as he took a napkin and began cleaning up his mess.
“Okay. So we get the word out so the nuclear negotiations aren’t tainted by the manipulative machinations of Israel,” Susan said, barely taking notice of Phil’s drinking mishap. “Because you don’t think the FBI will do anything with what we already told them.”
“That’s exactly what we have to do,” Casey said. “After talking to Agent Gonzalez, I don’t know how much he can do in his position. I hoped for more, and I’m sure he will do what he can, but I think we need to skip a lot of the bureaucracy and find someone who can touch the negotiators directly.” Casey decided to eat crow. “I guess you were right. Maybe we should have asked Doc or Jim for a contact in the first place and just run with that, instead.”
“If you’re waiting for me to say ‘I told you so,’ I’m not going to. I think we found out a lot today, even if the end wasn’t quite what we expected,” Susan said. She realized Casey was right...again. He seemed to have a knack for that. “And I’m sorry for being a bitch.”
“I understand. I was there too, remember?” Casey smiled.
“So what now? We ask Jim and Doc Borglund if they know anyone who wants to hear what we have to say?” Susan asked.
“Hey, there’s your guy,” Phil said before Casey could answer.
Susan and Casey looked at the television where Benjamin Netanyahu was giving an early-morning press conference. Early morning Israel time. Susan picked up the remote control and un-muted the sound.
“...no question they are a nation of terrorists. They say they will not build a bomb, yet we have just witnessed what they are willing to do. Iran will use their nuclear capability to supply groups like al Qa’ida with weapons such as that used in Algeria. Through their proxy, Hizballah, they will wage war on the West and kill millions with radiation and explosives. One city at a time. We have seen Iran’s contempt for the United Nations before, and now we have seen their contempt for humanity.
“Do not tell me Iran is not a threat. They have repeatedly called for the destruction of Israel, and now they threaten their own brothers in Algeria, a Muslim country. No one is safe from their imperial-driven violence.”
“We are listening to Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister of Israel,” the off-screen commentator interrupted. “This is a taped press conference given in Tel Aviv almost an hour ago. The prime minister, once again, calling for an end to Iran’s nuclear program.”
“He is also blaming Iran for the detonation of a nuclear dirty-bomb in Algiers yesterday, Shawn. That’s a pretty serious accusation,” a woman added behind the scenes of Netanyahu’s continued speech.
“It is indeed, Cathy, particularly given the timing before the Ankara talks where insiders say it is looking like Iran is going to receive the blessing of the international community, led by the United States, for the limited development of civilian nuclear energy,” Shawn said.
“Perhaps not anymore,” Cathy said with a fake, made-for-TV laugh.
Susan turned off the television. “So that means Netanyahu is in on it,” she said.
“Not necessarily,” Casey said as he stood up and walked to the small kitchen area. “Can I get another beer?” he asked as he opened the refrigerator. Susan waved her hand in flippant approval. “Phil, want another one?”
“Sure, why not.”
Casey opened the two bottles and returned to the couch. Susan had recharged her wine glass and waited until Casey sat down before asking, “Why do you say that?” Susan asked.
“What? That Netanyahu might not be privy to the whole bombing thing?”
“Yes,” Susan said.
“Just because he said exactly what we thought he would say about the bombing doesn’t mean he gave the orders,” Casey said. “I mean, he might have, but he might also be just taking advantage of the situation.”
“How? If someone else planned the detonation of an RDD without his knowledge, especially if it could be traced back to Israel, wouldn’t he be pissed?” Phil asked.
“Hell yeah, he would be,” Casey said. “Publicly, anyway. But that’s only if the world suspected Israel in any way. Right now they don’t.”
“So why not come out swinging, blame the whole thing on Iran, and Bob’s your uncle,” Susan said.
Casey looked at Phil, who shrugged his shoulders. “Bob’s your uncle? What the fuck does that mean?” Casey asked with a smile.
“It means everything’s...never mind. The Brits say it a lot. At least I think they do. The point is, Netanyahu is going to do his best to throw the spotlight on Iran, whether or not he knew anything about the bombing plot.”
“Precisely,” Casey said. “And if he didn’t know about it, there’s a good chance the person who did is already dead.”
“Like Alam,” Susan said. She took a sip of wine and raised her finger as if a light had gone off in her head. “So if we can confirm that person’s death, then we can find out how high up in the Israeli government the whole thing goes.”
“Except we don’t have the first clue who that might be,” Casey said, dashing any excitement Susan had felt, however briefly.
“I bet your friend from the park knows,” Susan said.
“Yeah, well, I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again,” Casey said.
Phil stared at the blanked television screen, and Casey stared at Susan. She was deep in thought. Casey had convinced her to stay on the Baltic Venture story, though he wasn’t even sure how to take the next step. They had to find the right person who would not only listen to them, but who could also take action on the information they had. He hoped Susan was also working on that problem.
She was.
“AIPAC,” she said, breaking the stalemate. She noticed Casey had been watching her. “What?” she asked, self-consciously brushing her hair behind her ear.
“What?” Casey said, startled and slightly embarrassed about being caught. He quickly tried to dismiss the awkwardness. “What’s AIPAC?”
“The American Israel Public Affairs Committee,” Phil answered. “There’s a lot of those guys here in New York.”
“Okay. What about it?” Casey asked.
Susan sat up straighter in the big chair. “They
’re having a conference in D.C. right now. It started yesterday, actually.”
“Again, what about it?” Casey asked.
“Isn’t SECSTATE speaking there tomorrow?” Phil asked. He was a font of information, though he didn’t know what his friend was getting at, either.
“Yes, she is. But so is Paula Evertson,” Susan said.
“Who’s that?” Casey asked.
“She’s the Undersecretary of State for Arms Control and International Security.” She smiled at Casey and said, “And she’s a close personal friend of Dr. Glenn Borglund.”
It was Casey’s turn to smile. “And she’s a co-worker of William Burns.” William J. Burns was the Undersecretary of State for Public Affairs—the highest ranking diplomat in the State Department and junior only to the Madame Secretary herself. He was also slated to represent the United States in the upcoming nuclear negotiations with Iran in Ankara, Turkey. If they could arrange an audience with Ms. Evertson, they might be able to get word of Israel’s backdoor political wrangling directly to Dr. Burns. Susan had just come up with the break they were looking for.
“Anyone up for a road trip?” Casey asked.
Chapter 40
Washington, D.C.
Saturday morning started early. Casey had slept on Susan’s couch the night before after Phil went home. Casey wasn’t up to the subway ride back to his hotel, and Susan acquiesced to his request. Four hours after his head hit the pillow, Casey and Susan were awake and headed to the IWG offices. Susan had showered and changed clothes, but Casey still wore the grass- and blood-stained garments from his trip through Central Park. They picked up bagels and coffee and had breakfast on the way.
As soon as they got to the office, they went straight to see Jim Shelton. Jim listened to their idea and took both of them to Doc’s office. It did not take much to convince the IWG CEO to make a phone call. He had Paula Evertson’s personal cell phone number, and in minutes the meeting was set. Ms. Evertson agreed to see Casey and Susan after the AIPAC convention program finished for the day.
Without wasting any time, they hit the road in Susan’s car and were in the District of Columbia by three-thirty. To Casey’s delight and Susan’s indifference, they had about an hour and a half before they had to get to the Washington Convention Center. The sun was shining, and Casey squinted to combat the glare from the numerous white-stone buildings and monuments that were a quintessential part of the Washington, D.C., landscape. If he wasn’t awestruck by the historical significance of the geographic seat of the nation’s power-center, he might have averted his gaze. But Casey had never been to Washington, and he couldn’t help himself.
As they neared the convention center, the noise of the traffic, tourists, and beltway bureaucrats was pierced by a staccato chanting of varying volume. A large crowd was mingling at the front of the building. Some people held banners and signs while others merely lent their voices to what Casey thought was obviously a protest of sorts. Despite the seemingly unpracticed and hastily organized appearance of the gathering, the throngs of people were orderly and surprisingly civil. The strategically placed barriers and police cars with lights flashing ensured no one overstepped the bounds of freedom of speech.
“People will take any opportunity they can to publicize their views in this town,” Susan said.
Casey looked closer at one of the banners. “Just say no to Iran nukes,” Casey read out loud. “Original. Why would they be protesting outside of a Jewish convention?”
“It’s an American-Israeli convention,” Susan corrected him, “and that’s my point. I seriously doubt the discussions inside that building involve anyone making a case for Iran. So they aren’t really protesting. They’re just trying to get air time from the television crews that are covering the AIPAC meeting.”
“I see,” Casey said. “So that’s why it’s so laid back. No one around here is going to challenge their position.”
“That’s Washington for you. I bet the cops over there are more concerned with making sure everyone is acting in accordance with the laws of political correctness than keeping the peace,” Susan said.
“C’mon, man. Those guys are probably pissed because they got assigned the shit detail,” Casey said. “Every guy I know who wears a badge hates babysitting. They’d rather be doing real cop stuff.”
“If you say so.” Susan checked her watch as she noticed people beginning to leave the convention center. She looked up at the lamp post and back at the building to reassure herself that they were in the right spot.
“Ms. Williams?” a woman’s voice called from behind her. Susan jumped slightly, startled. She turned around. It was Paula Evertson. Susan smiled and held her hand out.
“Madame Undersecretary. Hi.” The two women shook hands. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
“No problem. And please, call me Paula. I’ve known Glenn for a long time. I’ve relied heavily on his opinion on more than one occasion, and when he said you had something I definitely needed to hear, I couldn’t say no.” Paula looked at Casey who was standing next to Susan a few steps back. Doc had said there was going to be a young man with Susan, but she didn’t expect someone with the appearance of a homeless vet who had recently been in a fist fight. “And you are...?”
“Casey, ma’am.” Casey noticed her critical appraisal and decided to nod a greeting, rather than subject the Undersecretary of State to a handshake.
“Casey is really the one who has something to say, Paula,” Susan said. “He’s the one who figured the whole thing out.”
Paula gave a tired, puzzled look and said, “Okay. Dr. Borglund didn’t say anything about what you wanted to tell me, just that I should listen. So, Casey...I’m listening.”
Susan stepped to the side so she could see both Casey and Paula. Casey swallowed before beginning, wishing he had a bottle of water. “Ma’am, you need to let Dr. Burns and the rest of the nuclear negotiating team who are going to be in Ankara in a couple of weeks know that Israel has been working overtime to get the talks to go their way.”
“Israel is not even a party at the talks,” Paula said.
“I know that, ma’am,” Casey said. “That’s why they are doing everything they can to influence people’s perceptions of Iran. Since they don’t have an official vote, they’re doing some pretty awful shit outside of the diplomatic process to ensure that no one votes to allow Iran to develop a nuclear power capability.”
“Like what?”
“Like supplying al Qa’ida with a dirty-bomb and blaming it on Iran,” Casey said.
“Whoa. Hold on a minute,” Paula said. “You think Israel was responsible for the Algiers bombing? I find that a little hard to believe. Do you have any proof of this?”
Casey had expected that question. He and Susan had discussed it many times on the drive from New York. They decided that the best chance they had for Paula Evertson to buy their analysis was to tell the whole story. “It started about a month ago, when a cargo ship named Baltic Venture was hijacked after leaving Kaliningrad....”
Paula listened to every word Casey said without interrupting. When he was done recounting the shooting in Central Park and the parting words from Lev Cohen, Mossad assassin, Casey folded his arms on his chest. “That’s it. We’ve been right about everything so far regarding the Baltic Venture. And while we don’t have proof of Israel’s involvement in the bombing, the signs are all there, pointing in that direction.”
“I suppose they are,” Paula said. She looked at Susan and then back at Casey. “What do you think this information changes?”
“Ma’am?” Susan said, expressing Casey’s doubt about the meaning of the undersecretary’s question as much as her own.
“If I believe you, and I pass your theory on to Bill Burns, how do you expect the P5+1 talks to be affected by that information?”
Casey felt the breath of defeat on the back of his neck. “If you believe me? Look, Ms. Evertson, whether you believe me or not doesn’t matte
r. What matters is that the decision to let Iran openly develop nuclear power should not be based on false accusations. If the president’s team wants to close the door on Iran, fine, but don’t let it be because Israel manipulated the process.”
“You don’t think America plays its own games to get what it wants? That’s what international negotiation is all about. It’s every man for himself,” Paula said. “Don’t kid yourself, Casey. Every treaty ever made was signed with a little blood in the inkwell.”
“But that blood was taken from the parties signing the treaty,” Casey said. “You said yourself that Israel is not a member of the Ankara talks. If we even pay lip service to Benjamin Netanyahu’s rhetoric and accusations, then we set a precedent that will allow them and others with their own agendas to distort the truth through violence as they see fit. And I guarantee more innocent lives will be lost in the future if you let that happen.”
“If I let that happen? Excuse me, sir, but I said I’d hear you out as a favor for a friend. That’s all. Don’t think you can threaten me and....”
“Senior person with a secret, Paula,” Casey said, cutting her short. “You don’t want your boss to find out that you had information which might have influenced a major U.S. foreign policy decision and perhaps one of the seminal efforts to begin ratcheting down the violence in the Middle East.” Casey waited for a response while Paula digested what he had just said. Paula Evertson was a long-time politician before joining the State Department. Casey hoped that she would revert back to the practice of CYA—cover your ass—that was a part of every elected official’s mantra.
“And you think this information is that important?” Paula asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Casey said. “Maybe we’ll never find out for sure if Israel had anything to do with the bombing or the hijacking. And I doubt anyone that matters will give a crap that they tried to have Susan and me killed, which I do know is a fact. But we can try to keep America on the moral high ground by giving Iran a fair shake. If they don’t want to play by the rules, then fuck ‘em. But punish them for their own crimes, not someone else’s.
Open Source Page 32