Honour Among Thieves

the same warm relationship with America that his predecessor had enjoyed. After a light breakfast, Scott strolled out of the hotel to find a company car waiting for him. 'Good morning, sir,' were the only words his driver spoke on the entire journey. It was a pleasant trip out of the city that Wednesday morning, but Scott smiled wryly as he watched commuters blocking all three lanes going in the opposite direction. When he arrived at Dexter Hutchins' office ten minutes before his appointment, Tess, the Deputy Director's secretary, waved him straight through. Dexter greeted Scott with a firm handshake and a cursory attempt at an apology. 'Sorry to pull you in at such short notice,' he said, removing the butt of a cigar from his mouth, 'but the Secretary of State wants you to be present for his working meeting with the Israeli Prime Minister. They're having one of the usual official lunches, rack of lamb and irrelevant small talk, and they expect to start the working session around three.' 'But why would Christopher want me there?' asked Scott. 'Our man in Tel Aviv says Rabin is going to come up with something that isn't officially on the agenda. That's all he could find out. No details. You know as much about the Middle East as anyone in the department, so Christopher wants you around. I've had less put the btest data together so that you'll be right up to date by the time we get to this afternoon's meeting.' Dexter Hutchins picked up a pile of files from the corner of his desk and handed them to Scott. The inevitable 'Top Secret' was stamped on each of them, despite the fact that a lot of the information they contained could be found strewn across the Foreign Desk of the Washington Post. 'The first file is on the man himself and Labour Party policy; the others are on the PLO, Lebanon, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Saudi Arabia and Jordan, all in reference to our current defence policy. If Rabin's hoping to get more money out of us, he can think again, especially after Clinton's speech last week on domestic policy. There's a copy in the bottom file.' 'Marked "Top Secret", no doubt,' said Scott. Dexter Hutchins raised his eyebrows as Scott bundled up the files and left without another word. Tess unlocked a door that led to a small empty office next to her own. 'I'll make sure you're not disturbed, Professor,' she promised. Scott turned the pages of the first file, and began to study a report on the secret talks that had been taking place in Norway between the Israelis and the PLO. When he came to the file on the Iraq-Iran conflict there was a whole section he'd written himself only two weeks before, recommending a surprise bombing mission on the Mukhbarat headquarters in Baghdad if the UN inspection team continued to be frustrated in their efforts to check Iraqi defence installations. At twelve o'clock, Tess brought in a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk as he began to read the reports on no-fly zones beyond the 36th and 32 nd parallels in Iraq. When he had finished reading the President's speech, Scott spent another hour trying to puzzle out what change of course or surprise the new Prime Minister of Israel might have in mind. He was still deep in thought when Dexter Hutchins stuck his head round the door and said, 'Five minutes.' In the car on the way to the State Department, Dexter asked Scott if he had any theories about what the Israeli leader might be going to surprise them with. 'Several, but I need to observe the man in action before I try to second guess. After all, I've only seen him once before, and on that occasion he still thought Bush might win the election.' When they arrived at the C Street entrance it took almost as long for the two men from the CIA to reach the seventh floor as it always did for Scott to penetrate the inner sanctum of Langley. At 2.53 they were ushered into an empty conference room. Scott selected a chair against the wall, just behind where Warren Christopher would be seated but slightly to his left so he would have a clear view of Prime Minister Rabin across the table. Dexter sat on Scott's right. At one minute to three, five senior staffers entered the room, and Scott was pleased to see that Susan Anderson was among them. Her fine fair hair was done up in a coil, making her look rather austere, and she wore a tailored blue suit that accentuated her slim figure. The spotted white blouse with the little bow at the neck would have frightened off most men; it appealed to Scott. 'Good