44

WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM, WASHINGTON, D.C.

“What do you mean he’s trashed my plan?”

The president was beet red as he stared at the large plasma screen on the far wall of the Situation Room. On-screen was General Evans via a secure videoconference from the U.S. Embassy in Cairo. On a smaller, adjacent screen was the image of Susan Davis, also in Egypt.

“Mr. President, what he’s saying publicly is that he’s furious that the plan doesn’t give him full and undisputed control of the Temple Mount, doesn’t give him sovereignty over the Muslim and Christian Quarters of the Old City, and doesn’t roll Israel back to the pre-1967 borders,” said Evans. “He also says he’s incensed the plan doesn’t give Palestinian refugees the right of return and that it gives the Israelis sovereignty over all but a handful of what he calls ‘illegal Jewish settlements’ on the West Bank.”

Deputy National Security Advisor Bill McDermott looked around the room. Clarke sat at the head of the table. To his right was Secretary of State Meg Whitney, fresh back from Europe, and an empty chair where Janelle Thomas or Tyler Reed should have been seated. To the president’s left were CIA director Richard Stephens and Martha Dell. What confused McDermott most was that Clarke seemed so surprised by the Palestinian leader’s rhetoric when they had all warned him this would likely be Ziad’s reaction. Yet Clarke had been adamant that given the enormous amount of money the U.S. and Gulf States were putting on the table to jump-start the Palestinian economy, Ziad would finally come to his senses and play ball.

“Have you spoken with him?” Clarke asked, barely containing his anger.

“Yes, sir.”

“And what does he have to say for himself?”

“I’ve never heard him so angry,” Evans said. “I was genuinely afraid the man might have a heart attack and drop dead on me in the middle of the call.”

“Is there anyone around him suggesting he may be making a mistake?”

“Just the opposite, Mr. President —Ziad told me his cabinet is even more furious than he is.”

“Fine, they don’t like all the particulars. But why reject it outright? Why not come to Camp David and participate in direct negotiations? You told him he’s not getting a dime if he doesn’t come to the table, right?”

“I did, sir, but he says the plan makes such ‘preposterous concessions’ to the Israelis on Jerusalem and settlements, among other things, that Prime Minister Eitan will simply try to pocket these things and have no incentive to compromise.”

“How does he know unless he tries?”

“Ziad insists the plan is a giant trap, one he has no intention of walking into.”

“Tell me this is just their opening position, Barry,” the president insisted. “Tell me that next week Ziad will soften his position and we’ll find a way to move forward.”

“I wish I could, Mr. President. But I don’t believe that’s the case. I’m sorry. I know you’ve invested a lot in this. We all have.”

Clarke thundered a curse. “You better believe we have! And there’s no way I’m going to surrender to —what did Prime Minister Eitan call Ziad?”

“The mayor of Ramallah.”

“Exactly, the mayor of Ramallah —I’m running the world’s sole superpower, and I am not going to just surrender to the mayor of Ramallah. We’re going to move forward. We’re going to roll this thing out just like we’ve planned. And we’re going to make our case directly to the Palestinian people.”

The silver-haired Secretary Whitney was writing something in her notebook, but at this she removed her reading glasses, set them down, and turned to Clarke. “Mr. President, just to be clear, you’re not suggesting that you still want to go to Jerusalem after all that’s happened, are you?”