Weapons of Mass Deception

CHAPTER 37

The President paused on the darkened portico outside the Oval Office.

He drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. The February air in Washington, DC, was more damp than cold this evening, and fog clung to the lawn of the White House. There was a smell of snow in the air. The Secret Service agent behind him fidgeted. He nodded for the Marine to open the door.

The National Security Advisor and the Director of National Intelligence were waiting for him. They rose to their feet when he entered and he waved for them to sit. “Good evening, ladies. How long til SecDef joins us?”

“He’s five minutes out, sir,” replied Letitia Lowen, the DNI. “And we have State and Ambassador Evans from Helsinki on the line as well.”

The President forced a smile at Tisch Lowen. “How’s the new job, Tisch?”

DNI Lowen’s appointment to replace James Clapper had been one of the few appointments he’d made that was not blocked by the Republicans in the Senate. That was not to say her hearing had been easy, but the fact that it had gone through at all was nothing short of a political miracle.

“We’re settling in fine, sir. Shall I open the phone line?”

The Secretary of Defense rushed into the room and took a seat on the couch next to the DNI. The President accepted a cup of coffee from the steward just as the light on the speaker phone went from red to green. “How’s your flight, Mr. Secretary?” he called.

The flat New England vowels crackled with an undercurrent of static as the Secretary of State answered: “Fine, sir. This must be some meeting to get you away from your family this evening.” The room smiled. It was well known that the President preferred to spend his early evenings with his family.

The President let the polite laughter die down before he continued. “Ambassador Evans — Charlie — are you there?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here and I have Mr. Donald Riley with me. Riley is with the CIA and currently assigned to the NCPC. He’s been acting as a nuclear expert for the planning meetings here in Helsinki.”

The President wrinkled his brow. “Good evening, Mr. Riley. Are you the same Riley I see on all the Iranian nuclear assessment reports?”

Riley’s voice came over the phone as a squeak. “Yes, sir.”

“Alrighty then. Charlie, how about you explain why you’ve gathered us here.”

In the measured sentences of a professional diplomat, Ambassador Evans described the meeting with Reza and the bones of the offer from Rouhani. The President had heard the report already, of course, but he wanted to see the reactions from the rest of the team. Charlie Evans, an accomplished international law expert, was not the kind of ambassador to bring him sketchy offers. The tone of his voice told him that Charlie thought the Iranians were sincere.

The president waited a beat after Ambassador Evans finished speaking before he asked, “And whose idea was it to meet in a sauna?”

“Mine, sir,” came Riley’s voice.

“Very culturally appropriate, Mr. Riley. What is the nature of your relationship with this Reza character?”

Riley’s voice grew stronger. “I first met Mr. Sanjabi as part of the Iranian delegation for nuclear talks. He approached me and offered a private contact number in the event that we needed back-channel communications. We’ve since learned he is very close to President Rouhani, acting as a special projects officer. He has several times fed me information about upcoming events that have proven out. In short, sir, my recommendation is that we treat his offer as genuine.”

The President nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Riley. Charlie, I know it’s 3AM there. We’re going to let you both go get some sleep. The Secretary will be in touch in the morning with our answer.” He waited until the Helsinki connection was dead before he continued. “State, what are your thoughts?”

“It’s bold, Mr. President, maybe even brilliant. Rouhani realizes his time is now. He’s at the height of his power, and he needs to deliver something. If the Israelis get on board, nothing can stop this agreement from going through.”

It was brilliant. Rouhani had anticipated the needs of all sides perfectly. The fly in the ointment for the US had always been Congress. Even if they managed to get a nuclear agreement hammered out, lifting the sanctions still required Congressional action, something that could take months, maybe longer. Less than a year ago, forty-seven Republicans had sent a letter to Iran in an attempt to derail the nuclear negotiations. The political gymnastics those unfortunate senators would have to put themselves through to go back on that position were unthinkable.

But throw Israel into the mix? Show Israel as a supporter of the Administration’s nuclear deal? The Congress — both sides of the aisle, and both houses — would be tripping over themselves to stay aligned with the Israel lobby.

“So why would Bibi go for this deal?” the President asked. “What’s in it for him?”

The National Security Advisor leaned in, her eyes gleaming. “It think that’s really the genius of this plan, sir. With Ahmadinejad in power, the Israelis’ hard line was justified. But Ahmadinejad is long gone. As Rouhani gets more moderate and wins support, Netanyahu sounds more shrill, more like a war-monger, more out of touch with the reality of the world around him. Look, the Iranians have agreed to every inspection, every questionnaire, everything we’ve asked of them. How much longer can Israel hold out without looking unreasonable?

“The Arab Spring has left the region in chaos. But what if the two largest players got together and created a peaceful agreement? If Rouhani’s moderates control Iran, the funding for Hamas, Hezbollah, Assad in Syria — it all goes away. Bibi Netanyahu goes from the guy holding up red-line cartoons in the UN to the Israeli leader who brought peace to the Middle East. Think about that as your legacy.”

The President blew out a long breath. “Defense, what are your thoughts?”

The Secretary cleared his throat. “I have to agree. As Israel goes, so goes Congress. Getting the nuclear deal signed, lifting sanctions, it all becomes doable if Israel is behind it.”

“Tisch, your turn.”

The DNI removed her glasses and tapped them against her knee as she spoke. “Mr. President, I think we have to assume the offer is genuine. Bold, yes, but genuine. Everything we know about Rouhani says he’s going for real reform. My interpretation is that the boldness of the offer shows us how precarious his position is within the regime. He needs to show progress quickly to stay in power. He’s weighed the odds and decided to go for broke.”

“State?”

“I agree with what’s already been said, but I would add one thing. There are many ways Rouhani could have made this offer to us, but he chose a low-level meeting in Helsinki between an analyst and his man. If we assume the offer is legitimate — and I think it is — that tells us two things: this Reza character is plugged into the very top of the Rouhani power structure, and our man Riley is our way in.

“Our best weapon now is speed. If the hard-liners find out about this, they will go ballistic — pardon the pun. Every day that goes by increases the chances that the opposition from either side will find out and kill this plan before it ever sees the light of day. We need to get Israel to make the offer as soon as possible.”

The President sat back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of his face. His strained relationship with the Prime Minister of Israel was a much talked about aspect of his time in office. He straightened up suddenly.

“Thank you all. If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”