by JC Ryan
“I’ve got some ideas, let me think on it for a day or two and give you a proposal.”
“You’ve got it,” Daniel said. “I can see this blowing up in our faces if we aren’t on top of it.”
The President's speech
November 11, Veteran’s Day, Washington, DC
Despite the unrest in the Middle East, the continuing annoyance of an underground regime intent on throwing their inadequate munitions against the West and even a personal attack on a close friend of Harper’s, things had been quiet for nearly six weeks now. Delegations of Iranian leaders with milder words had traveled to DC to speak with Harper and offer conciliation.
On a day that was sacred to Americans, especially the military, the president was expected to make a speech. He had thought long and hard about it, and had even called his friend Daniel Rossler to give him a heads-up about what it would contain. Daniel had been aghast.
“Nigel, are you kidding? Those people can’t be trusted! Why, it’s only been a couple of months since they tried to blow me up, along with my family and dozens of innocent bystanders. They did kill over two dozen! What are you thinking?” Daniel’s agitated pacing made his words jerky, and Harper could visualize his friend as he strode from one end of his office to the other.
“I’m thinking that it has to come to an end, Daniel. I’ve spoken to the leaders that are in power now. Those things happened on someone else’s watch. We need to be the bigger man. Will you trust me?” Harper, arguably the most powerful man in the country, held his breath. It was important to him that Rossler agreed.
“Nigel, you’ve been a friend for years. We’ve been through a lot together. I know you’re a good man, and I trust your judgment. You know I won’t oppose you, but can I just say I’ll take it under advisement?”
“Of course, Daniel. I hope you’ll be listening.” Harper figured that Daniel would come around, because he knew his friend to be a man of reason and good will. Asking him to forgive the recent attack on his family may be premature, but the time was right for this announcement. He’d just have to wait and see whether his friend was ready or not.
Harper took the podium in the room reserved for news media, the deep blue of the background contrasting with his silver hair to good advantage. World response to the next few minutes’ communication would dictate whether his administration would be seen by posterity as the greatest recovery in US history, or the greatest failure. That didn’t concern him, though. Harper was of a breed not seen since early in the country’s youth, a man whose principles were unwavering, who truly put the good of the people before political advantage.
“My fellow Americans, members of the press, citizens of the world. As you know, we are just beginning to emerge from the most disastrous double crisis in history. Even now, people are still dying from either the last vestiges of the H10N7 virus, nuclear radiation, or injuries sustained in suicide bombings all over the world. My brothers and sisters in humanity, this did not need to happen.
“It is true that the virus was set loose by accident, and that we might not have been able to prevent great loss of life. However, we all made grave mistakes in the wake of the panic. Had we worked together from the beginning, much of the pain and suffering might have been avoided. Had we been less willing, even eager, to take up arms against each other, those who died from causes other than the virus might be alive today. None of that matters now; we cannot change what has occurred, only what may occur in the future. Casting blame will not cure our broken world.”
Harper paused for a moment, to sip the water that had been placed on the podium for that purpose. A small stir in the audience caught his attention as he drew breath to continue, but the would-be interrupters were quelled by their neighbors, or perhaps by the stern look he gave them. The next part of his speech contained the meat, as well as some hard-fought quotes from the Bible, which his speech-writers had advised him to leave out. He no longer had patience for the political correctness that had all but erased the ‘under God’ from the Pledge of Allegiance. Nor did he any longer have to answer to petty groups who sought to gain their freedom of speech at the cost of his. He would speak his mind unfettered by those constraints.
“I am here today, with the full support of my counterparts in the major European nations as well as Canada and Australia, to call for a global effort to put an end to the skirmishes that continue to plague world peace. I call on Muslims and Christians, Hindus and Buddhists, all the religions of the world, in fact, to examine the core of their teachings and find charity in their hearts for those whose religion may be different, but whose humanity is the same. I call on East, West and every nation of the world to lay down their arms, their ideologies and their resentments, to work instead to build up those of our neighbors and fellow travelers on this globe who have lost everything. Let it be as Isaiah prophesied: ‘And they will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not lift up sword against nation, and never again will they learn war.’”
Once again Harper was forced to pause, this time by thunderous applause in the media room. He would not realize until he saw the recorded playback of his live speech that, in the final sentence he uttered, his voice had taken on the tones of a great orator, ringing out richly in his conviction that this was the right thing to do. Moments passed before the applause died down enough for him to continue.
“Only months ago, I asked you, my fellow Americans, to rise to the occasion, to do the right thing. You have worked tirelessly. Your sacrifices will continue as we dig deeply into our pockets to rebuild those who would destroy us. And yet, we must. If we turn our backs now, we are not the great nation our forefathers envisioned. We must lead the way. And we will reap the reward, for Isaiah also said, “The fruit of that righteousness will be peace; its effect will be quietness and confidence forever.” And again, “My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.” This I desire for you, for all of us. This shall we accomplish if we put our hearts into it.”
A smattering of applause threatened to break out, but Harper held up his hand for silence.
“I have just one more thing to say. I urge all peace-loving nations, all nations who want to see an end to endless warfare and to destruction of their lands and people and even nations whose ideology has previously led them in the direction of war; lay down your arms and send your representatives to the UN. Even those who are not members will be welcome if they come in peace and good faith. Together, let us work to devise a global reconstruction plan that is fair and balanced, without regard for ideologies. Let us all go forward in peace and prosperity, that we may no longer have hatred for each other.”
Harper stood, his head bowed, remaining at the podium while applause buffeted him. Many of the very nations he knew needed the most help were not members of the UN. Others, perhaps, had lost faith in that institution, but he knew of no other with the required infrastructure to pull off this summit meeting to end all summit meetings. Had he succeeded in his mission? The final arbiter of the success of his Administration would be the way it was written in the history books, and then he would know.
When the last echo of applause had died away, and the last question had been answered, Harper made his way heavily to his quarters within the White House, where he was met by his wife of three decades, Esther. She put her hand along his cheek and examined his face closely.
“You were magnificent,” she whispered.
Let us be friends
November 18, Washington, DC
Toward the end of the most disastrous year in human history, Ahmad Ahmadi, CIA code named “Arsalan”, contacted Director Lewis of the CIA, not in his capacity as a CIA asset, but in his new role as Director of Reconstruction of Iran.
“It’s good to hear from you, Arsalan. You’ve done well for yourself since we last spoke. To what do I owe the honor?” Lewis asked. The last time he’d spoken to this man, Arsalan had declared his intention
of working in the background. Now he was calling as an important government official.
“If only I had been able to keep to my intention of staying in the background,” Arsalan answered. “These new duties limit my capacity to work for reform in some ways. However, in others, it helps to have the power bestowed upon me. It’s just that I have to work twice as hard to persuade key players that my suggestions are to our advantage.” It was almost as if he’d read Lewis’s mind.
Lewis didn’t see how there were any limits to Arsalan’s reform efforts. Already, those efforts had resulted in quite a few international corporations planning to situate manufacturing facilities in Iran. Nevertheless, he was willing to wait patiently for Arsalan to get to his reason for calling.
“I’m sure you’re doing all you can, Arsalan,” he said, hoping it would move the smooth preliminaries along and make Arsalan get to his point.
“I am doing my best. This brings me to the reason for my call. You are aware that our reconstruction efforts are hindered in many ways by the lack of new technology coming out of the 10th Cycle Library?” Arsalan’s tone made it a question.
“I hadn’t thought much about it. Why is that?” Lewis was genuinely puzzled.
“Only nations that have signed the 10th Cycle Treaty and sent representatives to the Rossler Foundation Board are given the technology. Surely you must know this.” Now Arsalan sounded impatient, as if Lewis’s ignorance was wasting his time.
“I suppose I did. As I said, I haven’t thought much about it.”
“And surely you know that countries belonging to the region you call the Middle East were not given the opportunity to sign the treaty,” Arsalan persisted. Lewis began to get an inkling of what the call was about.
“And why was that, Arsalan? Do you recall what leaders in your country were saying and doing back then?” The accusation put him back on even ground.
“Of course, Director Lewis. However, times have changed. We have eliminated the radicals and our new leaders are favorably disposed toward the West. Even your president has urged the cooperation of the Western nations in helping us to rebuild. We come now with our hands outstretched in friendship, to humbly beg the opportunity to join the treaty members. Other nations in my region are similarly disposed.” Arsalan had rehearsed the last two sentences until they didn’t sound like a plea, but more of an expectation.
“Of course you know it isn’t up to me,” said Lewis. Why was Arsalan calling him in the first place?
“Yes, of course. But you have the president’s ear, and he is a friend of Daniel Rossler. Perhaps you can hint to the president that his assistance would be most appreciated.” Ah, the reason, finally. Lewis wondered if Arsalan was unaware that his old handler Luke was the uncle of Rossler’s wife. That would have been a more direct route. Although, it may not have had the desired result.
“That’s all?” Lewis asked.
“Yes, sir. That is all I can ask. You will have my lasting gratitude if you will grant this favor,” Arsalan said, humble now, more like the agent Luke Clarke had recruited all those years ago.
“I’ll do what I can. Take care, Arsalan. You’re treading waters that have always been very dangerous. I admire you for your courage to do that to improve the lives of your people.”
“I shall indeed, and thank you.”
Lewis requested a meeting with the president at his earliest opportunity, stressing that the matter was not an emergency. Harper’s secretary found a slot for him three days later, at ten a.m. When Lewis arrived at the Oval Office, he found the president sitting, not behind his desk, but in a comfortable chair with a coffee table in front of it. Harper gestured to the matched chair and offered Lewis a cup of his special brew. Lewis had never gotten used to the president being so down-to-earth, but he concealed his discomfort and accepted the coffee, which Harper poured by his own hand. If Lewis had mentioned it, Harper would have gruffly explained that he wasn’t the Queen of Sheba and had no use for formalities among friends.
“What can I do for you, Sam?” Harper asked, handing him his coffee.
“It isn’t for me, Mr. President, but for a former CIA asset. You know him as Ahmad Ahmadi, Director of Reconstruction for Iran.” Lewis noted that Harper was taken aback by the information that Ahmadi had been a CIA asset.
“Why didn’t I know this?” the president asked. His tone of voice was milder than the words implied, as if he were genuinely curious, rather than disturbed.
Lewis answered carefully. “Mr. President, in matters of international espionage, every person who knows the identity of an asset, no matter how important or well-intentioned, represents a risk to that asset’s life. Therefore, we operate on a strict need-to-know basis. If there had ever been a need for you to know his identity, we would naturally have told you.” To Lewis’s relief, the president retained control over his famous temper.
“I can understand that. I am surprised that you didn’t say anything when the man rose to his current office.”
“It didn’t seem important then, sir. Naturally, he no longer considers himself in the employ of the CIA. It wouldn’t be appropriate. However, it does give him a way to unofficially request a favor that has no business going through diplomatic circles, since it involves a private foundation.” Lewis took a sip of the hot coffee, and decided to ask the president where he got the beans. It was some of the best coffee he’d ever had.
“Foundation,” said Harper. “You have to be talking about the Rosslers. What does he want from them?”
“He wants Iran and a couple of other Middle Eastern countries to be given the opportunity to sign the treaty,” Lewis answered. The direct question deserved a direct answer, even though it was a shocking one.
“They weren’t given that opportunity in the first place because of the danger that terrorists would get hold of sensitive information. Why should they have it now?” Harper demanded. He, too took a sip of the coffee, but seemed not to notice how good it was.
“It isn’t my place to say they should or shouldn’t, sir,” said Lewis. “I’m just the messenger boy. Ahmadi would appreciate it if you’ll put a bug in the ear of the Rosslers, and then they can decide. He did say that they, Iran that is, are now favorably disposed toward the West. I should also tell you that this isn’t a new claim. It was Ahmadi that gave us the tip about Kazemi’s assassination. At that time, he discussed with Luke Clarke and me how he’d like to change the Middle East from within, even make friends with the Israelis.”
“And you trust him?” Harper’s glance was sharp, evaluating Lewis’s body language as well as his words.
“Let’s say that he has given me no reason not to trust him. I don’t absolutely trust many people, sir.” Lewis would make no recommendation. In truth, he didn’t trust Ahmadi, or any other Middle Easterner, for that matter. But times had changed.
“You and me both. Well, I’ll have a talk with Daniel and see what he thinks.”
A few hours later, after all his daily obligations had been met and while his dinner was settling, President Harper interrupted Daniel’s dinner with a call to his cell phone.
“Daniel, did I catch you at dinner? Should I call later?” the president said, certain that Daniel would speak to him now no matter what. After all, you don’t ask the president to call back at a more convenient time, even if he is your personal friend.
“I always have time for you, Nigel. My waistline will thank you for it,” Daniel said, laughing.
“I remember! Sarah has no business being such a good cook for a PhD.” Harper remembered a batch of her cookies with particular fondness.
“What can I say, Nigel? It’s like a hobby for her, and she enjoys it. I’d hire a cook, but she won’t let me,” Daniel said, in no hurry to get down to business. It wasn’t often he and the president had time to just exchange pleasantries.
“I envy you. Listen, Daniel, I didn’t just call to shoot the shit. I’ve had a request from the Director of the CIA, Sam Lewis. You know him?”
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“We’re acquainted. He’s a good friend of Sarah’s uncle, Luke Clarke,” Daniel said, on alert now.
“Yep. Anyway, he got hold of Sam, and Sam brought the request to me. Seems the guy knows you and I are friends, and he wanted me to approach you about letting Iran into the 10th Cycle Treaty.” Harper’s mild delivery did nothing to cushion the shock Daniel felt at the request. Hadn’t the Foundation made it clear that they wouldn’t deal with countries that harbored terrorists? He said as much to Harper.
“Well, I understand, and I agree. But haven’t you noticed that Iran’s cleaned up its act in recent weeks? And several other Middle Eastern countries have followed Iran’s lead. I’m not going to argue in favor of it, but don’t you think the idea bears some discussion?” After what terrorist groups had done to his family, Harper wouldn’t blame Daniel for flatly refusing. But, he had to ask.
“I suppose it does. Tell me, Nigel, do a few months’ worth of reform make up for a thousand years of hate?” Daniel asked, sitting down at the desk in his home office with a sigh.
“I wish I had an answer to that. Or to the question of when we drop our guard and let them demonstrate their sincerity. I’m a simple man, Daniel. If a man points a gun at me, I consider him an enemy. If he puts away the gun and smiles, I consider him a friend. Now, I know as well as the next man that he could easily pull the gun again. But, if I don’t give him an opportunity to leave it in its holster and be a friend, doesn’t that make me as much a bad guy as he was in the first place?” Daniel did his best to follow Harper’s cowboy logic, but he had grave doubts. Instead of expressing them, he did his friend the honor of considering his request.