Drone Threat

23

The Secret Service driver sped through traffic with his emergency lights flashing. Completely illegal, given the circumstances, but when the vice president tells you to do something, you do it.

Arriving a fashionable five minutes late, Chandler was ushered into the ambassador’s spacious office and told that His Royal Highness would be down shortly. Coffee was offered. Chandler took it. He was starved. No telling when he’d eat again.

The ambassador arrived with his male secretary and the coffee service. Chandler stood. The two men embraced. “Clay, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Your Excellency.”

“Clay, please. We’re friends. Come, take a coffee and have a seat.” The tall, handsome Saudi steered the vice president toward a luxurious chair. His Royal Highness Ambassador Faisal bin Salman al-Saud dressed and acted like a young Westerner. The forty-year-old prince had attended a Swiss boarding school, graduated from Harvard, and later earned an MBA from Wharton. His Swiss mother’s fair complexion along with his short cropped beard softened his Semitic profile. He was the new, youthful face of the royal house of Saud, with the reputation of a reformer.

“Old habits,” Chandler said. “Forgive me. My grandmother raised me to believe that good manners are a sign of godliness.”

“I defer to your grandmother’s wisdom out there in the world. But in here, please, it’s Faisal.”

“Of course. Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me. I thought our first conversation was extremely enlightening.”

“As did I. I hope we may continue in the same spirit of frankness.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“Excellent. How shall we proceed?”

“First of all, I want to reiterate that I completely understand the existential threat that ISIS presents to your country as well as mine. President Lane understands it as well.”

“And yet, strangely, he still refuses to commit American combat personnel to the war.”

“I understand the need for new boots on the ground, even if the president does not.”

The Saudi cocked an eyebrow. “Should you be telling me this?”

“It’s important that you know there are still plenty of us who reject isolationism. ISIS isn’t just going to go away on its own. It’s a cancer that needs to be cut out.”

“Daesh is a great evil that plagues the minds of far too many people. The world isn’t ready for what will come should they ever seize control of an entire nation, especially one with resources like ours.” Chandler noted that Saud referred to ISIS only by the more derogatory Daesh, an acronym for ISIS that sounded like a few other unfavorable Arabic words. ISIS hated the term Daesh so much that they threatened to cut out the tongue of anyone who uttered it.

“It was a damn fool mistake to knock off Hussein. Bad as he was, he was at least a devil we knew, and kept his boot on the throats of the other devils we didn’t know. Same for Qaddafi.”

“If I may be so bold, you Americans have been terribly selective in your foreign policy morality. I’m glad that some of you have seen the difficulty of such selectivity. We have never suffered that particular malady. We hate Daesh for what it is. Only recently did it kill my own nephew.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. My condolences.” Chandler took a sip of coffee.

“Thank you. The circumstances were difficult. His mother, my sister, is still unconsolable in her grief. The young fool was seduced into the witchcraft of Daesh. He perished in a drone strike.” Al-Saud paused for effect. “An American drone strike.”

“American? On Saudi soil?”

“Northern Iraq. I assumed it was your government behind it. Who else has the capability?”

“I assure you, unless there was some secret mission, it most assuredly wasn’t American. President Lane hasn’t authorized any such strike in Iraq in the last six months. He’s questioning the entire program. In fact, the whole War on Terror. Believe me, if there had been a drone strike against ISIS, I’d know about it, because I’ve been pounding the table for it since I was sworn in.”

“All the more reason to allow my government to purchase and operate our own drone systems.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. President Lane isn’t yet fully open to that option, but he’ll come around to it.”

“And this man, Pearce. The nominee? My understanding is that his position is not supportive, either.”

Chandler’s jaw tightened. Pearce was a stubborn ass. He wouldn’t let him ruin this relationship. He’d have to find out later who al-Saud’s source was in the administration. “His position will be exactly the same as mine before he’s confirmed — or he won’t be in the position.”

Al-Saud nodded, smiled. “I am truly grateful. Our nations share a profitable history and a long alliance. I look forward to our relationship blossoming even further, especially during a Chandler administration.”

“As do I. Saudi Arabia is our best and most natural ally in the region now. I’m sick and tired of the outsize influence Tel Aviv has had on my government for far too long.”

“Something else we can agree on,” al-Saud said.

They chatted pleasantly for another twenty minutes and agreed to the date and time of their next meeting. The ambassador even escorted him to the front door, where they shook hands, all smiles.

And all of it caught on video by two Israeli Mossad agents.