"And what was his response?"

Freidman grinned, remembering the tension on Hayes's face. "He was not happy."

Goldberg found these conversations with Freidman very tedious. The man never simply told a story. You had to extract information from him bit by bit. "What did he say?"

"Nothing. He didn't need to, though. The anger on his face said it all."

"Who else was at the meeting?"

"Dr. Kennedy, General Flood, Michael Haik and Valerie Jones."

"Did anyone speak?"

"No."

Goldberg's heavy face twisted into a concerned frown. "I find that very unusual. Don't you?"

"No. President Hayes has made it very clear that America's best

interests are not always the same as ours."

Anxious to disagree, Goldberg said, "That may be, but it doesn't explain why they wouldn't speak. For God's sake, we're their only true ally in this whole bloody region." Inwardly, Freidman smiled. Goldberg would not have gotten far in the intelligence business. He was far too emotional. "The President clearly didn't like the way I requested a backdoor meeting. My guess is he instructed everyone to keep their mouths shut while I was in the room." With a shrug, he added, "This is not unusual, David. Being the head of Mossad often guarantees a frigid welcome. Even in one's own country."

Goldberg nodded his acceptance. Freidman was right. There were members of his own cabinet who turned mute when the intimidating director general of Mossad entered the room. "So what was the outcome?"

"I spoke with Dr. Kennedy afterward. They are taking this very seriously, and will be in contact with us. She asked that we be patient and do nothing until they have a chance to find a solution."

Goldberg sprang forward in his chair, concern on his face. "Didn't you tell them exactly what I told you to? There is only one solution to this problem, and it isn't diplomacy or economic sanctions! Military action is the only solution!"

Freidman held out his hand and gestured for his prime minister to calm down. "Don't worry, David. I intimated your every word to Dr. Kennedy. As I told you before I left, with Saddams recent show of defrance, President Hayes is looking for an excuse to bomb Saddam ... and this is a very good one."

"But those bombs can be moved!" Goldberg had not calmed. "If Saddam gets the slightest whiff that we, or the Americans, know about the bombs, they will be scattered across Iraq in a second!" Goldberg slammed his fist down on the table. "This is our only chance!"

"And you don't think the Americans know that?"

"I don't pretend to understand the American mind," spat Goldberg. "They often do things that make no sense to me."

"Well, not this President. He hates Saddam for reasons that we know all too well, and he is going to do exactly as I told you."

Goldberg shook his head and thought about Freidman's plan. "I don't know. I can see them going to the U. N. or pulling some stunt like going on television." He wagged his finger at Freidman. "Never underestimate the ego of an American politician. They love to grab the spotlight, and I don't think I am being irrational by worrying that President Hayes might decide to go on TV and announce to the world that Saddam is in the final stages of completing a bomb. It would be the safe route for him to take, to build another coalition. Hell, the damn Arabs would line up against Saddam in a heartbeat. The Saudis and the Iranians fear him as much or more than we do."

Freidman calmly shook his head. "He can gain their support after he turns that hospital into a mound of sand. None of us want him to join the nuclear club. President Hayes is a very decisive man. He doesn't relish what he has to do, but he knows it's the right thing."

"What about the hospital?" pleaded Goldberg. "The Americans are loath to be sullied by the pictures that will follow."

Freidman hesitated to respond for a moment, knowing that Goldberg had a good point. "There is no doubt this aspect is troubling, but they know to do nothing is worse."

"I am not saying they will do nothing. I'm saying that their course of action will be to take to the airwaves, not to the skies."

"I know what you're saying, David, but I disagree with you. I know this President. The bombs will be falling within two weeks and the Americans will have solved our problem for us."

The prime minister lowered his chin and studied Freidman. His jowls spilled over the collar of his white dress shirt."I wish I could share your confidence, but I don't. I have already asked our air force to make preparations for a strike. I will not sit around and wait for the Americans to act, and if they try to take this to the U. N. or go to the media with it, I will send in the planes immediately! I will not give Saddam a chance to move those bombs!"

Goldbergs words brought a smile to Freidman's face. He admired the man's fighting spirit. If there were more like him they would have never gotten themselves into this mess with the Palestinians.

"What do you think is so funny?" asked an angry Goldberg.

"You misunderstand my smile, David. It is one of admiration. The Americans will attack exactly because of what you just said. They know if they don't take care of the problem, you will. And that, my friend, is a problem they don't want to deal with. President Hayes will order the strike and take care of our problem for us. Just be patient, and give them the time they need to put it together."

"I will give them some time, but I will not be patient. Under no circumstances will I allow Saddam to bring those weapons into service. If it means we have to go to war with Jordan, Syria and Iraq, I would welcome it. Our air force would make mincemeat out of their fliers and our army would crush anything they throw at us." "And what about Egypt?" asked Freidman.

"They have no stomach for fighting. They know what will happen if they try to cross the Negev. They will be slaughtered just like the last time they tried. Besides, they are not as easily influenced by Saddam as Syria and Jordan are." Goldberg confidently shook his head. "No, they will do nothing. You are a fighter like me, Benjamin. You know deep down inside the Arabs want nothing to do with us. We have pummeled them one too many times. They would rather talk tough and do nothing."

The prime minister's words brought a smile to Freidman's face. He agreed with everything Goldberg had just said. It was very nice for a change. "You are a tough old warrior, David. The people of this country probably have no idea how lucky they are that you are in charge during these difficult times." Standing, Freidman looked at his prime minister and said, "The Americans will come through for us. I promise."

Washington, D. C. Wednesday morning

It was unseasonably cold in the nation's capital, even for November. The President had asked Irene Kennedy to arrive early, earlier than the others. He wanted to have a few words alone with her. At 7:00 A. M." the White House was a relatively calm place. It was still thirty minutes to an hour away from the start of another busy day. The Secret Service agents and officers were dutifully standing their posts, but that was about it. The deluge of media, employees and visitors were still sleeping or getting ready for another day at the nation's most famous residence.

Kennedy entered the West Wing on the ground floor. She was dressed in a conservative but stylish dark blue suit. Under her arm she carried a locked pouch containing the President's daily brief, or PDB, as it was known by all in the national security community. The brief was essentially a daily newspaper put together by the CIA's top analysts. It was a highly classified document and was distributed to only the most senior people in an administration. Each copy was collected at the end of the day and destroyed. Normally someone junior to the director of the CIA delivered the brief, but Kennedy had decided to handle it herself this morning.