The Icarus Agenda

Chapter 20

The two bodies of Congress, the Senate and the House, have several committees of matching purpose with similar or nearly similar names. There is Senate Appropriations and House Appropriations, the Senate Foreign Relations and the House Foreign Affairs, the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, this last with a powerful Subcommittee on Oversight and Evaluation. This counterpartism is one more example of the republic's effective system of checks and balances. The legislative branch of government, actively reflecting the current views of a far wider spectrum of the body politic than either an entrenched executive branch or the life-tenured judiciary, must negotiate within itself and reach a consensus on each of the hundredfold issues presented to its two deliberative arms. The process is patently frustrating, patently exasperating, and generally fair. If compromise is the art of governance within a pluralistic society, no one does it better, or with more aggravation, than the legislative branch of the United States government with its innumerable, often insufferable and frequently ridiculous committees. This assessment is accurate; a pluralistic society is, indeed, numerous, usually insufferable to would-be tyrants, and almost always ridiculous in the eyes of those who would impose their will on the citizenry. One man's morality should never by way of ideology become another's legality, as many in the executive and the judiciary would have it. More often than not these quasi-zealots grudgingly retreat in the face of the uproars emanating from those lower-class troublesome committees on the Hill. Despite infrequent and unforgivable aberrations, the vox populi is usually heard and the land is better for it.

But there are some committees on Capitol Hill where voices are muted by logic and necessity. These are the small, restricted councils that concentrate on the strategies formed by the various intelligence agencies within the government. And perhaps because the voices are essentially quiet and the members of these committees are examined in depth by stringent security procedures, a certain aura descends over those selected to the select committees. They know things others are not privileged to know; they are different, conceivably a better breed of men and women. There also exists a tacit understanding between the Congress and the media for the latter to restrain themselves in areas concerning these committees; a senator or a congressman is appointed, but his or her appointment does not become a cause celebre. Yet neither is there secrecy; the appointment is made and a basic reason given, both the act and reason stated simply, without embellishment. In the case of the representative from the ninth district of Colorado, one Congressman Evan Kendrick, it was put forth that he was a construction engineer with extensive experience in the Middle East, especially the Persian Gulf. Since few knew little or anything about the area, and it was accepted that the congressman had been an executive employed somewhere in the Mediterranean years ago, the appointment was considered reasonable and nothing unusual was made of it.

However, editors, commentators and politicians are keenly aware of the nuances of growing recognition, for recognition accompanies power in the District of Columbia. There are committees and then again there are committees. A person appointed to Indian Affairs is not in the same league with another sent to Ways and Means—the first does the minimum to look after a discarded, basically disenfranchised people; the latter explores the methods and procedures to pay for the entire government to stay in business. Nor is Environment on a par with Armed Services—the former's budgets are continuously, abusively reduced, while the expenditure on weaponry reaches beyond all horizons. The allocation of moneys is the mother's milk of influence. Yet, simply put, few committees on the Hill can match the nimbus, the quiet mystique, that hovers over those associated with the clandestine world of intelligence. When sudden appointments are made to these select councils, eyes watch, colleagues whisper in cloakrooms, and the media is poised at the ready in front of word processors, microphones and cameras. Usually nothing comes of these preparations and the names fade into comfortable or uncomfortable oblivion. But not always, and had Evan Kendrick been aware of the subtleties, he might have risked telling the crafty Speaker of the House to go to hell.

However, he was not aware, and it would not have made any difference if he had been; the progress of Inver Brass was not to be denied.

It was six-thirty in the morning, a Monday morning, the early sun about to break over the Virginia hills, as Kendrick, naked, plunged into his pool, trusting that ten or twenty laps in the cold October water would remove the cobwebs obscuring his vision and painfully spreading through his temples. Ten hours ago he had been drinking far too many brandies with Emmanuel Weingrass in Colorado while sitting in a ridiculously opulent gazebo, both laughing at the visible streams rushing below the glass floor.

'Soon you will see whales!' Manny had exclaimed.

'Like you promised the kids in that half dried-up river wherever it was.'

'We had lousy bait. I should have used one of the mothers. That black girl. She was gorgeous!'

'Her husband was a major, a big major, in the Army Engineers. He might have objected.'

'Their daughter was a beautiful child… She was killed with all the others.'

'Oh, Christ, Manny. Why?'

'It's time for you to go.'

'I don't want to go.'

'You must! You have a meeting in the morning, already two hours ahead of us.'

'I can skip it. I've skipped one or two others.'

'One, and at great harm to my well-being. Your jet is waiting at the airfield in Mesa Verde. You'll be in Washington in four hours.'

As he swam through the water, each length faster than the last, he thought of Oversight's morning conference, admitting to himself that he was glad Manny had insisted he return to the capital. The subcommittee's meetings had fascinated him—fascinated him, angered him, astonished him, appalled him, but most of all fascinated him. There were so many things going on in the world that he knew nothing about, both for and against the interests of the United States. But it wasn't until his third meeting that he understood a recurring error in his colleagues' approach to the witnesses from the various intelligence branches. The mistake was that they would look for flaws in the witnesses' arguments for carrying out certain operations when what they should have been questioning were the operations themselves.

It was understandable, for the men who were paraded in front of Oversight to plead their cases—exclusively men, which should have been a clue—were soft-spoken professionals from a violent clandestine world who played down the melodrama associated with that world. They delivered their esoteric jargon quietly, swelling the heads of those listening. It was heady stuff to be a part of that global underground, even in a consulting capacity; it fed the adolescent fantasies of mature adults. There were no Colonel Robert Barrishes among these witnesses; instead, they were a stream of attractive, well-dressed, consistently modest and moderate men who appeared before the subcommittee to explain in coldly professional terms what they could accomplish if moneys were provided, and why it was imperative for the nation's security that it be done. More often than not the question was: Can you do it? Not whether it was right, or even if it made sense.

These lapses of judgment occurred often enough to disturb the congressman from Colorado who had briefly been part of that savage, violent world the witnesses dealt with. He could not romanticize it; he loathed it. The terrible, breathless fear that was part of the terrifying game of taking and losing human life in shadows belonged to some dark age where life itself was measured solely by survival. One did not live in that kind of world; one endured it with sweat and with hollow pains in the stomach, as Evan had endured his abrupt exposure to it. Yet he knew that world went on; inhabitants of it had saved him from the sharks of Qatar. Nevertheless, during the coming sessions he probed, asking harsher and harsher questions. He understood that his name was being quietly, electrically, emphatically bounced around the halls of Congress, the Central Intelligence Agency, even the White House. Who was this agitator, this troublemaker? He did not give a damn; they were legitimate questions and he would ask them. Who the hell was sacrosanct? Who was beyond the laws?

There was a commotion above him, wild gestures and shouts he dimly perceived through the water rushing past his face in the pool. He stopped at mid-length and shook his head while treading water. The intruder was Sabri, but it was a Sabri Hassan he rarely saw. The ever calm middle-aged PhD from Dubai was beside himself, fiercely trying to control his actions and his words, but only barely succeeding.

'You must leave!' he shouted as Evan cleared his ears of water.

'What… what?

'Oman! Masqat! The story is on all the channels, all the stations! There are even photographs of you dressed as one of us—in Masqat! Both the radio and the television keep interrupting programmes to report the latest developments! It was just released within the past few minutes; newspapers are holding up their late morning editions for further details—’

'Jesus Christ!' roared Kendrick, leaping out of the pool as Sabri threw a towel around him.

'The reporters and the rest of those people will undoubtedly be here in a matter of minutes,' said the Arab. 'I took the phone off the hook and Kashi is loading our car—forgive me, the car you most generously provided us—’

'Forget that stuff!' yelled Evan, starting towards the house. 'What's your wife doing with the car?'

'Putting in your clothes, enough for several days if necessary. Your own car might be recognized; ours is always in the garage. I assumed you wanted some time to think.'

'Some time to plan a couple of murders!' agreed Evan, dashing through the patio door and up the back staircase, Dr Hassan following closely. 'How the hell did it happen? Goddamn it!'

'I fear it's only the beginning, my friend.'

'What?' asked Kendrick, racing into the huge master bedroom overlooking the pool and going to his bureau, where he hurriedly opened drawers, whipping out socks, underwear and a shirt.

'The stations are calling all manner of people for their comments. They're most laudatory, of course.'

'What else could they say?' said Evan, putting on his socks and shorts while Sabri unfolded his laundered shirt and handed it to him. 'That they were all rooting for their terrorist buddies in Palestine?' Kendrick put on the shirt and ran to his closet, yanking out a pair of trousers. Sabri's wife, Kashi, walked through the door.

'Anahdsfa!' she exclaimed, asking to be pardoned and turning away.

'No time for eltakaled, Kashi,' cried the congressman, telling her to forget her traditions. 'How are you doing with the clothes?'

'They might not be your choices, dear Evan, but they will cover you,' replied the sweet-faced anxious wife. 'It also occurred to me that you could call us from wherever you are and I can bring things to you. Many people on the newspapers know my husband but none know me. I am never in evidence.'

'Your choice, not mine,' said Kendrick, putting on a jacket and returning to the bureau for his wallet, money clip and lighter. 'We may be closing up this place, Kashi, and heading out to Colorado. Out there you can be my official hostess.'

'Oh, that's foolish, dear Evan,' giggled Mrs. Hassan. 'It's not proper.'

'You're the professor, Sabri,' added Kendrick, rapidly running a comb through his hair. 'When are you going to teach her?'

'When will she listen? Our women must have advantages we men know nothing about.'

'Let's go!'

'The keys are in the car, dear Evan—’

'Thanks, Kashi,' said Kendrick, going out the door and down the staircase with Sabri. 'Tell me,' continued Evan as both men crossed through the portico into the large garage that housed his Mercedes convertible and Hassan's Cimarron Cadillac. 'How much of the story do they have?'

'I can only compare what I've heard with what Emmanuel told me, for you have said literally nothing.'

'It's not that I wanted to keep anything from you—'

'Please, Evan,' interrupted the professor. 'How long have I known you? You are uncomfortable praising yourself, even indirectly.'

'Praise, hell!' exclaimed Kendrick, opening the garage door. 'I blew it! I was a dead man with a bleeding pig strapped to my back about to be dropped over the shoals of Qatar! Others did it, not me. They saved my overachieving ass.'

'Without you they could have done nothing—’

'Forget it,' said Evan, standing by the door of the Cadillac. 'How much have they learned?'

'In my opinion, very little. Not an iota of what Emmanuel told me, even discounting his natural exaggerations. The journalists are scratching for details, and apparently those details are not forthcoming.'

'That doesn't tell me much. Why did you say it was only “the beginning” when we left the pool?'

'Because of a man who was interviewed—roused willingly out of his house, obviously—a colleague of yours on the House Intelligence Subcommittee, a congressman named Mason.'

'Mason…?' said Kendrick, frowning. 'He's got a big profile in Tulsa or Phoenix—I forget which—but he's a zero. A few weeks ago there was a quiet movement to get him off the committee.'

'That's hardly the way he was presented, Evan.'

'I'm sure it wasn't. What did he say?'

That you were the most astute member of the committee. You were the brilliant one whom everyone looked up to and listened to.'

'Bullshit! I talked some and asked a few questions but never that much, and in the second place I don't think Mason and I ever said more than “hello” to each other! It's bullshit!'

'It's also all over the country—'

The sound of one, then two cars screeching to a stop in front of the house broke through the silence of the enclosed garage.

'Good Christ!' whispered Evan. 'I'm cornered!'

'Not yet,' said Dr Hassan. 'Kashi knows what to do. She will admit the early arrivals, speaking Hebrew, incidentally, and usher them into the solarium. She will pretend not to understand them and thus will stall them—for only a few minutes, of course. Go, Evan, take the pasture road south until you reach the highway. In an hour I'll replace the phone. Call us. Kashi will bring you whatever you need.'

Kendrick kept dialling repeatedly, punching the button down with each repeated busy signal until finally, to his relief, he heard the sound of a ring.

'Congressman Kendrick's residence—’

'It's me, Sabri.'

'Now I am truly astonished you got through. I'm also delighted for I can once again take the telephone off the hook.'

'How are things going?'

'Calamitously, my friend. Also at your office and at your home in Colorado. All are under siege.'

'How do you know?'

'Here no one will leave and, like you, Emmanuel finally reached us with a great deal of profanity. He claimed to have been trying for nearly half an hour—'

'I've got ten minutes on him. What did he say?'

'The house is surrounded, crowds everywhere. Apparently the newspaper and television people all flew into Mesa Verde, where most were stranded, as three taxis could hardly accommodate such numbers.'

'All this must blow Manny's mind.'

'What blows his mind, as you phrase it, is the lack of sanitary facilities.'

'What?'

'He refused to offer them and then observed acts of necessity on all sides of the house that caused him to rush to your shotgun rack.'

'Oh, my God, they're pissing all over the lawn—his landscaping!.'

'I've heard Emmanuel's tirades many times in the past, but never anything like this. During his outburst, however, he did manage to tell me to call Mrs. O'Reilly at your office, as she was not able to get through here.'

'What did Annie say?'

'For you to stay out of sight for a while but—in her words—“for God's sake” call her.'

'I don't think so,' said Evan thoughtfully. 'The less she knows, the better at this point.'

'Where are you?' asked the professor.

'At a motel outside Woodbridge off Route Ninety-five. It's called The Three Bears and I'm in Cabin 23. It's the last one on the left nearest the woods.'

'By which description I assume you need things. Food, no doubt; you cannot go outside and be seen, and there can't be room service at a motel with cabins—'

'No, not food. I stopped at a diner on the way down.'

'No one recognized you?'

'There were cartoons on the television set.'

'Then what do you need?'

'Wait until the late editions of the morning papers come out and send Jim, the gardener, into Washington to pick up as many different ones as he can lay his hands on. Especially the majors; they'll have their best people on the story and they'll reach other people.'

‘I’ll make out a list for him. Then Kashi will bring them to you.'

It was not until one-thirty in the afternoon that Sabri's wife arrived at the motel in Woodbridge, Virginia. Evan opened the door of Cabin 23, grateful to see that she had driven the gardener's pick-up truck. He had not thought of the diversion, but his two friends from Dubai had known better than to drive his Mercedes past the crowds around his house. While Kendrick held the door, Kashi made rapid second and third trips back to the vehicle, for along with the pile of newspapers from all over the country she brought food. There were sandwiches encased in plastic wrap, two quarts of milk in an ice bucket, four hot plates equally divided between Western and Arab dishes and a bottle of Canadian whisky.

'Kashi, I'm not going to be here for a week,' said Kendrick.

'This is for today and tonight, dear Evan. You are under a great deal of stress and must eat. The box on the table has silverware and metal stands under which you place the Sterno solid fuel for heat. There are also place mats and linen, but if I may, if you must leave here abruptly, please call so I may retrieve the silverware and the linen.'

'Why? Will the quartermaster throw us in the brig?'

‘I am the quartermaster, dear Evan.'

'Thanks, Kashi.'

'You look tired, ya sahbee. You have not rested?'

'No, I've been watching that damned television, and the more I watch, the angrier I get. Rest's hard to come by when you're furious.'

'As my husband says, and I agree with him, you are very effective on television. He also says we must leave you.'

'Why? He said that to me several weeks ago and I don't know why!'

'Of course you do. We are Arabs and you are in a city that distrusts us; you are in a political arena now that does not tolerate us. And we will not bring harm to you.'

'Kashi, this isn't my arena! I'm getting out, I'm sick of it! You say this is a city that doesn't trust you? Why should you be any different? This town doesn't trust anybody! It's a city of liars and shills and phonies, men and women who'll climb over any back with their cleats on to get a little closer to the honey. They're messing around with a damn good system, sucking the blood out of every vein they can tap, proclaiming the patriotic holiness of their causes while the country sits by and applauds what it doesn't know it's paying for! That's not for me, Kashi, I'm out!'

'You're upset—’

'Tell me about it!' Kendrick rushed to the bed and the pile of newspapers.

'Dear Evan,' broke in the Arab wife, as firmly as Kendrick had ever heard her speak. He turned, several papers in his hands. 'Those articles will offend you,' she continued, her dark eyes levelled at his, 'and to speak truthfully there were parts that offended Sabri and myself.'

'I see,' said Kendrick quietly, studying her. 'All Arabs are terrorists. I'm sure it's here in very bold print.'

'Very pointedly, yes.'

'But that's not your point.'

'No. I said you would be offended, but the word is not strong enough. You will be incensed, but before you do anything you cannot take back, please listen to me.'

'For God's sake what is it, Kashi?'

'Thanks to you, my husband and I have attended numerous sessions of your Senate and your House of Representatives. Also, because of you, we've been privileged to witness legal arguments before the justices of your Supreme Court.'

'They're not all exclusively mine. So?'

'What we saw and heard was remarkable. Issues of state, even laws, openly debated, not by simple petitioners but by learned men… You see the bad side, the evil side, and no doubt what you say has truth, but isn't there another truth? We've watched many impassioned men and women stand up for what they believe without fear of being shunned or silenced—’

'Shunned they can be, not silenced. Ever.'

'Still, they do take risks for their causes, often profound risks?'

'Hell, yes. They go public.'

'For their beliefs?'

'Yes…' Kendrick let the word evaporate into the air. Kashi Hassan's point was clear; it was also a warning to him in his moment of self-consuming fury.

'Then there are good people in what you called “a pretty damn good system”. Please remember that, Evan. Please do not diminish them.'

'Don't what?'

'I express myself poorly. Forgive me. I must go.' Kashi walked rapidly to the door, then turned. 'I beg you, ya sahbee, if in your anger you feel you must do something drastic, in the name of Allah, call my husband first, or if you wish, Emmanuel… However, without prejudice, for I love our Jewish brother as I love you, but my husband might be somewhat more composed.'

'You can count on it.'

Kashi went out the door and Kendrick literally pounced on the newspapers, turning each over on the bed, their front pages in succeeding rows, the headlines visible.

If a primal scream could have lessened the pain, his voice would have shattered the glass of the suffocating cabin's windows.

New York Times New York, Tuesday, 12 October

CONGRESSMAN EVAN KENDRICK OF COLORADO SAID TO HAVE BEEN INSTRUMENTAL IN OMAN CRISIS

Outwitted Arab Terrorists, Secret Memorandum Indicates

Washington Post Washington, DC, Tuesday, 12 October

KENDRICK OF COLORADO REVEALED AS US SECRET WEAPON IN OMAN

Tracked Down Arab Terrorists $ Connection

Los Angeles Times Los Angeles, Tuesday, 12 October

DECLASSIFIED RECORDS SHOW KENDRICK, COLORADO REP, KEY TO OMAN SOLUTION

Palestinian Terrorists Had Arab Backing. Still Classified

Chicago Tribune Chicago, Tuesday, 12 October

CAPITALIST KENDRICK CUT SHACKLES OFF HOSTAGES HELD BY COMMUNIST TERRORISTS

Killer Arabs Everywhere in Disarray over Revelations

New York Post New York, Tuesday, 12 October

EVAN, THE MENSCH OF OMAN, STUCK IT TO THE ARABS!

Move in Jerusalem to Make Him Honorary Citizen of Israel! New York Demands a Parade!

USA Today Wednesday, 13 October

'COMMANDO' KENDRICK DID IT! Arab Terrorists Want His Head! We Want a Statue!

Kendrick stood over the bed, his downcast eyes shifting rapidly from one black-lettered headline to another, his mind drained of all thought but a single question. Why? And as the answer eluded him, another question gradually came into focus. Who?