37

THE WHITE HOUSE

As requested, Bill McDermott placed a call to Riyadh.

It did not go well.

For starters, the national security advisor was told the royal family had just departed Riyadh for their summer palace in Jeddah and would not be available for several hours.

The next time he called, McDermott was told that His Majesty King Faisal Mohammed Al Saud had gone to bed with a head cold and, on the advice of his doctors, was not to be disturbed. Given the magnitude of the crisis unfolding in the Gulf, this struck McDermott as suspicious. When he asked to speak to the crown prince instead, he was told that Abdulaziz bin Faisal Al Saud, who also served as the nation’s defense minister, was tied up in meetings with his top military advisors and would have to call him back.

Only when McDermott unleashed a torrent of expletives at his Saudi counterpart, demanding that the crown prince immediately take the call from the president of the United States, was he finally assured that His Royal Highness would return the call in five minutes.

It turned out to be twenty minutes, but the call eventually came.

President Clarke took it in the Oval, with Secretary Whitney and McDermott sitting nearby, both listening in on other phones while also taking notes. Clarke opened by asking about the king’s health. The crown prince thanked him for his concern but said it was nothing to worry about. The comments were curt and perfunctory, and none of the Americans bought it. Something was seriously wrong with the octogenarian monarch. Why else would he not be available to speak, even briefly, with his number one ally?

“I want to thank you for the heads-up about the ayatollah’s death,” Clarke said, changing topics. “We still haven’t been able to confirm it ourselves, and we have not picked up anything on Iranian state television or radio. But I’m grateful to you and your father for passing along the information you’re obviously receiving from a very well-placed source.”

“Ansari’s death is a most disturbing development,” the crown prince replied without acknowledging the president’s gratitude. “The last thing this region needs is a succession crisis in Tehran.”

“Who do you think the Iranians will appoint?”

“That’s what my advisors and I were just discussing.”

“And?”

“I have some thoughts, Mr. President, but I’m not prepared to share them at this time.”

As the two men continued talking, McDermott caught Whitney’s eye. This was not business as usual. The crown prince was being unusually distant, almost cold, toward the president. Whitney scribbled a note and slipped it to the NSA. McDermott nodded and passed it along to Clarke.

Maybe POTUS shouldn’t bring up the Israelis now—just visiting HM and HRH in person, she had written, referring to “His Majesty,” meaning the king, and “His Royal Highness,” meaning the crown prince.

Clarke read the note, then nodded his agreement.

“Listen,” he interjected in the next lull in the conversation, “I want to send Meg Whitney over there tonight to sit with you and your father and discuss all these issues in person. Can you receive her tomorrow?”

After an awkward pause, the crown prince agreed. The president thanked him and said the chief of protocol at State would be in touch with his Saudi counterpart within minutes to coordinate the details.

“Well,” said Clarke after he had hung up the phone, “that could have gone better.”

“It’s not you, Mr. President,” McDermott offered. “The king is obviously not well, and the Saudis are freaking out about Iran.”

“What do you make of it, Meg?” Clarke asked.

“Well, Bill’s right about one thing,” she replied. “The health of the king is clearly worse than we thought. But that doesn’t explain how cool Abdulaziz was toward you, Mr. President. And I don’t think it’s Iran.”

“What then?”

“It’s Lebanon, sir,” she replied. “Iran and Hezbollah are playing a very dangerous but very shrewd game. They’re trying to mobilize the Arab street against Israel and by extension against the Saudis.”

“You think they’re going to pull the plug on the peace talks?” the president asked.

“I’m afraid so, Mr. President. As of right now, I fear any hope of a treaty is over.”