by Bob Graham
“I have something for you,” Mildred said. “My husband was looking forward to your visit on Friday.” A stifled sob interrupted her speech. “But he was worried that something might keep him from giving you his thoughts, so he prepared this envelope and asked that I give it to you if he were unable to.”
Mrs. Billington turned to the side table behind her and lifted a brown envelope, handing it to Tony.
Exhaustion and pain were etched in her eyes and the dark shadows under them. “Please excuse me, but I am very tired.” She turned to Laura, who had silently followed Kendall. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
As they left the parlor, Laura asked Tony, “Are you free for dinner?”
“I have a 10:20 back to Washington.”
“Mico’s is close. I have a rental car.”
Even in midsummer, Tallahassee is a political place, and Mico’s a gathering spot. When Tony went up to the maître d’, he was told the wait would be at least an hour.
That was when Laura stepped forward. “I’m Laura Billington, the photographer, and daughter of Governor Billington, who was buried today. I’m sure you can accommodate us.”
Three minutes later, when they were seated at a back table, Tony ordered a Chilean chardonnay and red snapper.
After Laura selected a gulf shrimp salad, Tony asked, “What was all that back at the mansion between you and your sister?”
Laura’s expression was a strange mixture of exasperation and regret. “Although she’s next to me, the youngest, Kendall has always been the family enforcer, calling us all to task for our sins and maintaining sisterly discipline. Apparently, I haven’t been disciplined enough, haven’t been sufficiently punished for my sins.”
“Those sins being? ...”
“Disrespect of my parents, particularly my father; placing my own life and career ahead of the family; having the temerity to question Daddy’s politics and values; and generally being a narcissistic bitch.”
Tony nodded sympathetically. “And how much of it is true?”
“Probably all of it,” Laura replied with a rueful smile. But then a quick change of expression suggested that she had put the matter behind her. “So, Tony,” she said, “you’ve told me what you don’t do; so what is your job at State?”
“My job is analyzing information—everything from the newspaper to wiretap intercepts—and trying to find a theme to better understand an ongoing situation, like Afghanistan, or what might occur in Pakistan if the Taliban or al-Qaeda were to take control. I’m not a hero from a John Le Carré novel or James Bond movie.”
“Do you ever long for the action side?” Laura asked.
“I think I got most of that out of my system in the army. At least my mother hopes so.”
Laura was silent for some moments, then asked, “Tony, is it pos—possible there’s some connection between those papers my mother gave you and someone’s motivation to shut my father up?”
“I ... I just don’t know,” Tony replied as their eyes met.
“I wish there were some way we could know for sure,” she said. “I wish ... I wish there were something I could do myself. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve what Kendall threw at me back there, but I do want to honor my father’s legacy and memory, whatever she thinks.”
Tony hesitated, working the thought over in his mind before he finally said, “Laura, there may be something you could do.”
Glancing around to make sure no other diner was eavesdropping, she whispered, “What?”
Leaning over the table, Tony replied, “The only players your father specifically identified, in my personal talks with him and in the New York Times op-ed, were the Saudis. You have a unique kind of access to world leaders, from Vladimir Putin to the king of Thailand. If you could get inside the Saudi tent—and be pretty goddamned careful about it—you might learn something valuable.”
“I live in Mayfair, three blocks from the Saudi embassy,” she said without a stumble. With an exciting assurance she added, “I’m sure I could wrangle an invitation there.”
“I was thinking of one of the palaces in the kingdom. Could you arrange a photographic session?”
“You mean, inside Saudi Arabia? Are you serious?”
Tony nodded. “Very serious.”
JULY 23–24
Tallahassee ☆ Airborne to Washington, D.C.
Laura drove Tony to the airport for the last flight to Atlanta and on to Washington. Curbside, she stuttered, “Tony, I don’t, I mean, I didn’t have the same relationship with my father you did. But, possibly, we might be able to, able to find a way to collaborate, you trying to answer his questions, and I’ll try to help, I don’t know how, in locating his killer.”
She got out of the car, met Tony on the sidewalk, and continued, “I wasn’t the son he wanted as his last child. I failed to live up to my sisters. I know all that. And I can live with it. But I’m not such an outcast bitch that I don’t want justice for the killer of my father.” She was silent for a moment, then added, “And it’s not just to prove to my siblings that I cared about him.”
“I believe you,” Tony said. “And maybe we can work together on this. Okay?”
“Okay,” she responded, almost meekly.
He gave her a tentative hug and left through the automatic doors.
The flight to Atlanta was delayed, forcing Tony to dash from the arrival gate to the airport subway and on to the Washington-bound departure at the far end of concourse B. He was the last passenger to board. Before stowing his briefcase, he removed the package Mrs. Billington had given him almost five hours earlier.
As the plane pulled back from its gate, Tony unclasped the manila envelope. Two smaller, white envelopes fell out, the first inscribed “For Your Eyes Only,” the other “Travel Documents.” Tony tore the flap open on the latter first. Enclosed was a Delta sleeve with four open tickets that together constituted a round-the-world trip from Washington Dulles to Kuala Lumpur and back.
The plane had lifted into the starless sky when Tony opened the other envelope. In it were a handwritten note on Billington’s stationery, three single-spaced computer-printed pages, and, rolling out as he turned the envelope upside-down, two .45 caliber shells, wrapped in a wrinkled copy of the New York Times op-ed and held together with a rubber band. The note read:Tony, in recent weeks I have become increasingly concerned that something untoward is in store for me. Initially, it was a series of abusive and threatening telephone calls. After almost forty years in politics I was prepared for them and didn’t report to the police, and for fear of her overreaction, did not mention them to Mildred. On Monday while I was in the office, these two cartridges were left on the driver’s seat of my Buick. I didn’t feel I had sufficient evidence to go to the police, but this combination of circumstances prompted my call to Mark.
I would have preferred to discuss my apprehensions with you personally. As you now have this in your hands, that preference will not be honored.
This envelope contains my assessment of the strategic position of our nation and the world. I hope it will provide a context for your travels and mission.
I believe this undertaking is of the greatest significance to our nation, Tony, and regret that I will not be at your side. I have every confidence you will contribute answers to the secrets that threaten the security of America.
Thank you,
John Billington
Tony turned to the typed pages.
To: Tony Ramos
From: John Billington
Date: July 15
Re: The Remaining Secrets of 9/11
At the conclusion of our investigation in December of 2002 and the issuance of the final nonclassified report in July of 2003, three unanswered questions remained:
What was the nature and extent of participation by the Kingdom and entities of Saudi Arabia in the preparation for and execution of 9/11?
What are the will and capabilities of the Kingdom to assist in future attacks within the United States?
Why h
as the present and prior Administration engaged in such a comprehensive, sustained, and, to date, largely successful cover-up to keep the answer to those questions from the American people?
These questions represent the “keys to the Kingdom.” If we can answer them, we will have gone a long way toward furthering American security and justice.
This we know:
In the weeks after the conclusion of the First Persian Gulf War in 1991, the Saudi royal family became intensely concerned with developments disclosed by the war and its aftermath: • Before the First Persian Gulf War, Osama bin Laden had been on amicable terms with the Kingdom, and his family had benefited from the largesse of the royal family. After Iraq’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait, he offered his Afghanistan war–hardened mujahideen to defend the Kingdom and thus avoid the necessity of foreign troops on sacred ground. He was rebuffed. This resulted in bin Laden’s departure from the Kingdom and his subsequent threats to topple the royal family.
• The war, and particularly the stationing of large numbers of U.S. and other foreign troops in Saudi Arabia, was seen by many Islamic clerics and followers as a sacrilege.
These concerns caused the Kingdom to pursue two post–Persian Gulf War complementary strategies:
The Kingdom increased its support of madrassas, extremist religious schools, and other Wahhabist institutions. It continued to condone private support to extremists, including through a shadowy organization called the Golden Chain—composed of some of Saudi Arabia’s wealthiest private citizens who since the 1980s have dedicated their wealth to advancing extremist causes and practices.
Concerned that youthful Saudis might initiate activities that ran counter to the interests of the regime, even lead a revolution similar to Iran’s, the Kingdom established a network of agents to monitor the university-age Saudi population, both within the country and abroad, especially the more than 5,000 young people in the United States.
Two of these agents were active in San Diego: Omar al-Harbi and his successor in training, Ahmad al-Otaibi. Beginning in January 2000, they extended their monitoring of Saudi students in San Diego to the provision of a support network and financing conduit for two of the future 9/11 hijackers.
This covert financial support, which included funds diverted from charitable accounts maintained by the wife of the Saudi ambassador to the U.S., Mahmood al-Rasheed, points most directly to an Administration cover-up. The final report of the Joint Inquiry came to over eight hundred pages. When the declassification process was completed, one chapter of twenty-eight pages was totally censored. This was the chapter relating to the Saudi role in financing the terrorists.
With these facts in mind, the arc of events during the 1990s and beyond can be seen in a new light: • In 1994, although Osama bin Laden had broken with the Kingdom over its toleration of foreign troops, Saudi Kingdom funding for the activities of al-Qaeda began to increase. This facilitated bin Laden’s relocation from the Sudan to Afghanistan, where, with the tolerance of the Taliban government, al-Qaeda established its headquarters and a series of training camps to provide its new recruits with the skills of terrorism.
• In August of 1998, al-Qaeda executed a plan two years in the preparation. Simultaneous attacks were launched against U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania. More than two hundred Americans, Kenyans, and Tanzanians were killed, and more than five thousand injured. Emboldened by this slaughter and what Osama bin Laden considered the anemic U.S. response, al-Qaeda commenced planning for a major attack on U.S. soil. Aware of the difficulties this would entail, bin Laden threatened the Kingdom with civil strife if it did not make its network of agents in the U.S. available to support and conceal the al-Qaeda operatives. I do not conclude that the Saudi royal family was aware of the specific purposes of al-Qaeda operatives being in the U.S.; rather, such assistance was demanded and acquiesced to, with no explanation of bin Laden’s intentions demanded by the Kingdom.
Tony read the balance of the memo, a Baedeker of the venues and personalities that had set the stage for 9/11. Billington concluded:Tony, in addition to the airline arrangements, I have deposited $100,000 in your name in an account at the United National Bank. Ms. Sheila Gonzalez is aware you will be contacting her to receive my further instructions. I trust this will be sufficient to cover your expenses and serve as an expression of my appreciation for your efforts.
I have advised only two other people of your mission. Of course, Mildred, to whom I am entrusting these communiqués. Also, Senator John Stoner, my closest colleague in the Senate and, you will recall, a member of the committee during the 9/11 inquiry. Upon completion of this mission, deliver your report to him. Senator Stoner will treat your information with full discretion and place it in the hands of those who can use it to enhance our national security.
Tony, I have great respect for your professionalism. I am confident you will use your talents and creativity effectively in the search for these answers.
Again, thank you, and buena suerte,
John Billington
Tony folded the memo and replaced it in the envelope. He could feel the presence of the senator. It was not nostalgia, but rather an emotional attachment founded on respect and the sense that the baton of responsibility, and its risks, had been passed.
Was Billington so close to exploding the secrets of 9/11 that he recognized his life was at risk? Tony wondered. Who placed the cartridges in Billington’s car? Could the Saudis, or our own government, have been at the wheel of the Ford pickup? Could clues to the answers be found in the far-flung destinations on Billington’s list?
Tony wasn’t a homicide detective. He knew he couldn’t hunt down Billington’s killer. But he could attempt to find the answers to his old friend’s questions. It was what he had prepared to do all his adult life.
The flight attendant announced they would land at Washington Reagan in twenty minutes. Tony closed his eyes.
JULY 24
Washington, D.C.
“Detective Hidalgo Martinez?”
“Here.”
“My name is Tony Ramos. I was a friend and former staffer of Senator Billington. The family has told me you are the Miami-Dade Police detective on the case. I have some information.”
“Mr. Ramos, what do you do?”
“I grew up in Hialeah,” Tony told Martinez to give him some local credibility. “For the last ten years I’ve been an analyst at the State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research.”
“Um, that sounds like an interesting job. But what can I do for you?”
Tony told him about the .45 caliber shells Billington had discovered in his Buick and how the senator had included them in the packet of materials he had prepared for Tony the day before his death.
“Mr. Ramos, to keep the chain of custody intact, I’m going to ask the D.C. police to retrieve the evidence and relay it to me.”
“That’s no problem.”
“Thanks, if we have further questions, expect another call.”
“Any leads?”
“We’re working it hard. That’s all I can say.”
At five minutes before nine, Tony was seated in the anteroom of Assistant Secretary of State William Talbott, across the desk from his assistant, Florence Wilkens. They were the only two in the office. Ms. Wilkens was casually straightening her desk, with none of the harried appearance of the previous Tuesday. Tony took this as a good time to strike.
“Ms. Wilkens, I’ve about reached my tenth year of State Department service. How do I submit an application for fifteen days of personal leave?”
Rising and looking down at Tony, she said, “I don’t need to tell you this is a busy time. You are aware that personal leave even after your period of service is discretionary. You submit to your immediate supervisor for final approval by Ambassador Talbott.”
“Yes, yes,” he sighed.
The interoffice box on Ms. Wilkens’s desk buzzed.
“The ambassador is ready to see you now.”
Talbott
was standing at the door as Tony approached. His smile and open arms signaled his pleasure. “Tony, your work on the Afghanistan testimony was first-rate. Even some of the old bull elephants like Rosenbach were impressed.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to see you so energized.”
“At last, maybe we’re getting their attention.”
As Tony took his seat, his eyes scanned the case of Talbott’s official and personal books. Photographs and memorabilia were displayed in front of the volumes: a photo with his mother on the Nile when she was ambassador to Egypt in the Carter administration; his Yale and Fletcher diplomas; a group picture of the ambassador and staff in front of the Shwedagon Pagoda, at his first ambassadorial posting, Myanmar. It was there, Tony recalled, that Talbott had distinguished himself with the Foreign Service. During a military counterattack against pro-democracy protestors and with communications down, he had arranged and paid for safe passage to Bangkok for all of the embassy dependents.
“Mr. Ambassador,” Tony asked, “do you think there’s still a chance to turn things around? Can we still win?”
Talbott walked to the window overlooking the Kennedy Center and the Potomac. “I honestly don’t know. A major component of the answer is how you define victory. If it’s like the British in the nineteenth century or the Soviets in the 1980s, to invade and occupy, or even to achieve our lofty idea of ‘nation building,’ the answer is no.”
He turned to face Tony, all the while pacing in front of his desk. “In my judgment Afghanistan is no longer the primary concern. It’s how its fate will affect the stability of Pakistan, the place that will fundamentally determine the future of Central Asia. That’s the game, and that’s what the public, the press, and much of the Congress, just don’t seem to get.
“No matter how we may feel about it, very few people give a hoot about the welfare of the Afghan people. Assuming we had the capability to do so, there are not enough Americans, even in the White House or Capitol, who understand enough or care enough about the people of Afghanistan and their future to stay the course and do what would be necessary to win. If you read the book or saw the movie about Texas congressman Charlie Wilson and his role in the Afghan war against the Soviets, you know that after the Soviets were pushed out, our failure to stay engaged in postwar recovery contributed to turning the country over to the Taliban. Even when we went in, in October 2001, it was all about revenge against al-Qaeda and their partners in crime, the Taliban.