60

“Saudi Arabia?” Marcus asked.

“Let me start at the beginning,” said the senator. “I understand the president has decided to cancel his upcoming trip to Jerusalem.”

“How did you know about that?”

Dayton just sat back in the booth with a quizzical look, at which point Marcus realized what a ridiculous question that had been. The man was the ranking minority member of the Senate Intelligence Committee. He’d been in this town for a long time and had a lot of sources inside government and out. What’s more, he was planning a run for the Democratic nomination for president. Of course he knew what Clarke’s plans were, especially on such a sensitive matter of national security.

“Let me strike that from the record, Senator,” Marcus laughed. “But yes, in light of last week’s events, the president is going to deliver his address on the peace plan from the Oval Office.”

“Not from the Temple Mount?”

“No, thank goodness.”

“That’s a mistake,” Dayton said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The president needs to go to Jerusalem.”

“Senator, I know you want his job, but you can’t really hate him that much.”

Dayton ignored the comment. “The Saudis have had it with Ziad,” he said quietly. “They’re ready to make peace with Israel on their own. Furthermore, the crown prince is prepared to come to Jerusalem, but only if the president will invite him and facilitate the discussions.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

Marcus turned to Annie.

“He is,” she confirmed. “Look, Marcus, we were just in Riyadh a few weeks ago. We met with the king and the crown prince. The senator read them the riot act on everything from the war in Yemen to the murder of that dissident to their completely unacceptable record on human rights. He let them know in no uncertain terms just how furious Congress is with them. But he also made it clear that he knew full well their strategic value as an ally. He told them that, unlike many of his colleagues in the Senate, he was not going to throw them under the bus. But ‘business as usual’ is no longer acceptable. They have to accelerate their social and economic reforms. They have to release prisoners, beginning with the highest-profile human rights activists. They’ve got to stop arresting everyone who disagrees with them. They’ve got to find a way to wrap up this war with the Houthis. And so forth. They weren’t happy. But they listened. And then they told us things we’ve never heard Saudi leaders say before.”

“Such as?”

“Such as that in light of the existential threat posed by Iranian mullahs, they’ve completely reconsidered their position on Israel. They’ve concluded that Israel is not part of the problem but part of the solution, and that if they were to make peace, Israel could be a vital ally for the kingdom militarily, economically, technologically, and beyond.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Marcus.

“Actually, there’s more,” said the senator. “On Wednesday, a few hours after the attack in London, Prince Abdullah bin Rashid —their intelligence chief —called me. He wanted to see if I would serve as a back channel to the president and to the Israelis. The Saudis don’t want the president’s peace plan to be delivered stillborn. He said they’re ready for peace talks as soon as possible.”

“Even after the Palestinians rejected the plan?”

“Because the Palestinians rejected the plan.”

“We realize this is a bit of a surprise,” Annie noted, seeing Marcus’s skepticism.

“A bit?” Marcus replied. “Given the Saudis’ history of anti-Semitism and radical Wahhabism, it frankly sounds preposterous.”

“Nevertheless,” said Dayton, “we think it’s real.”

“Then why come to me?”

“I want you to set up a meeting with the president —quiet, off the record.”

“Why don’t you just pick up the phone and ask him directly?”

“Because he hates me.”

“I don’t know about hates, but . . .”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Marcus. The man sees me as a competitor and would like nothing more than to squash me like a bug.”

“Well, you have said some pretty tough things about him —and to be fair, you are a competitor.”

“Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Haven’t you been watching the polls?” Dayton asked.

“My hands have been a little full of late.”

“Then let me fill you in. Yes, nationally, my numbers look strong. But that’s when you factor in independents and moderate to liberal Republicans. Among hard-core liberals, I’m tanking. I couldn’t get elected dogcatcher in the Democrat Party right now.”

“Why?” Marcus asked. “You were running strong before we went to Moscow. Then you took on Luganov face-to-face. You convinced Clarke to bulk up American forces in Poland and the Baltics to prevent a Russian invasion, and he completely followed your advice. The coverage was spectacular. You were a rock star.”

“If he was running as a Republican, absolutely,” Annie interjected. “But the activists in his party are furious he worked with Clarke at all. They feel betrayed, and they’re abandoning ship.”

“Because you put the interests of your country ahead of your party?” Marcus asked Dayton directly.

“Because I put Clarke ahead of my party,” the senator replied.

“Well then, they’re idiots.”

“Maybe so,” said Annie. “But they’re the idiots that knock on doors and run the phone banks and raise the money. They’re the idiots the senator needs to win the nomination, and after his lifetime of serving them, I’m telling you, they hate his guts.”

Marcus considered that, then turned back to Dayton again. “So just to be clear, Senator, you’re hated by Clarke for being too liberal and hated by liberals for being nice to Clarke?”

“Welcome to my world.”

“And you’re really not running?”

“No.”

“Why haven’t you made that public —or did I miss it?”

“I was actually scheduled to be on Meet the Press this morning. I was going to drop my little bombshell, as it were. But it hardly seemed appropriate under the circumstances, so last night I canceled my appearance. The producers went ballistic, but I told them that everything I knew about the attacks was classified and there was no point saying, ‘No comment’ to every question they asked me.”

“And they bought that?”

“They didn’t have any reason not to, though I’m not likely to be invited back anytime soon.”

The waitress brought them steaming bowls of soup —corn chowder for Dayton, gumbo for Annie, and thermonuclear Texas chili for Marcus.

“Why not call Secretary Whitney?” Marcus asked when they were alone again.

“She’s a little busy herself right now,” Annie said. “And this is urgent. Look, Marcus, the Saudis are terrified of Tehran getting the Bomb. They know the Iranians and Russians have been knocked off-balance. They know they have a window of time, and it won’t last forever. What’s more, they like the president’s peace plan. They’re furious with Ziad for rejecting it before it’s even been made public. And they believe now is the time to make their move. They saw how useful the senator was as a back channel during the whole Luganov thing, and they know I played a behind-the-scenes role with you with the whole warhead thing.”

“And they could certainly use a little bipartisan cover in this town,” Marcus was quick to add. “What could be better than to have a prominent Senate Democrat, one everyone believes is running for president, convince his incumbent Republican opponent to broker a Saudi-Israeli peace agreement in the ashes, literally and figuratively, of the last week’s events?”

“Exactly,” said Annie. “So will you help us? Will you call the president?”

Marcus looked at her, then back to the senator.

“I’d love to.”