general's hypocrisy unchallenged. He needed the money for the next part of his plan and the fact that it was counterfeit was all the better.
His drink arrived and in a defensive tone he said, "But General, the cost of doing business in my land is very expensive. Many people need to be paid to assure the safe transfer of your very much appreciated funds."
"You should be paying no one," snarled Hamza.
"You should slit the throat of the first person who gets in your way. Hamas and Hezbollah are on a mission from Allah and anyone who trifles with them should be dealt with harshly." The general shook his head in disgust.
"You will never defeat the Israelis until you learn to control your own people."
Biting down on his tongue to restrain himself from smiling, David nodded thoughtfully. He and the general had arrived at the same conclusion, but for different reasons. David would unite the Palestinian people and he would start by killing the arrogant Iraqi brute who was sitting across from him.
NINE.
Rapp was shown into the Oval Office by one of the President's aides. He found his boss, Irene Kennedy, and General Flood, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, sitting alone on one of the couches with a series of folders spread out on the coffee table.
Rapp could tell instantly that Kennedy had broken the news to the four-star general. The stony expression on the soldier's face said it all.
It was hard enough to lose men in battle but it was beyond infuriating to know that it could have been prevented.
Rapp decided that given the subject at hand it was better for him not to speak. Before he had a chance to sit, President Hayes entered his office with a cortege of aides trailing him. At over six feet tall with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, Hayes stood out in a crowd, and like most men who had reached his station in life, he exuded a real magnetism.
The men and women who worked for him wanted desperately to please him. Hayes unbuttoned his suit coat as he strode toward his desk. By the time he reached it the coat was off. He turned to face the three aides who were arguing about the administration's education bill.
Hayes held up his hands, palms out, and the three fell silent like well-disciplined kids obeying their father.
As Rapp watched the exchange take place he noticed, not for the first time, that the President had gained a little weight. It was a subject the two men had discussed on several occasions. Rapp, a former tri-athlete still worked out six days a week and watched his intake closely.
The President had confided in him that he was very wary of what his job was doing to his health. After all his official duties, which there was scarcely enough time for, there was still the Democratic Party and its incessant need to raise money.
Barely a day passed when there wasn't a fund-raiser of some sort, and where there was a fund-raiser one could always count on lots of food and booze. Rapp had designed a bare-bones workout plan that the President could do in forty-five minutes. The goal was to do it five days a week, first thing in the morning. As Rapp looked at the President's expanding waistline, he had a feeling the man had been skipping his workouts.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," said the President firmly.
"By the end of the day I want you all on the same page. If the three of you can't come up with a consensus, this thing will be dead before it reaches the Hill." One of the aides tried to get in a last word, but the President cut her off with a terse motion toward the door. The three left the room dejectedly and closed the door behind them.
Hayes dropped into his chair and picked up a pair of reading glasses from the desk. After quickly glancing over his schedule, he pressed his intercom button and said, "Cheryl, I don't want to be interrupted for the next fifteen minutes."
"Yes, Mr. President," came the always even reply of his gatekeeper.
Hayes looked up and waved for his three visitors to join
His drink arrived and in a defensive tone he said, "But General, the cost of doing business in my land is very expensive. Many people need to be paid to assure the safe transfer of your very much appreciated funds."
"You should be paying no one," snarled Hamza.
"You should slit the throat of the first person who gets in your way. Hamas and Hezbollah are on a mission from Allah and anyone who trifles with them should be dealt with harshly." The general shook his head in disgust.
"You will never defeat the Israelis until you learn to control your own people."
Biting down on his tongue to restrain himself from smiling, David nodded thoughtfully. He and the general had arrived at the same conclusion, but for different reasons. David would unite the Palestinian people and he would start by killing the arrogant Iraqi brute who was sitting across from him.
NINE.
Rapp was shown into the Oval Office by one of the President's aides. He found his boss, Irene Kennedy, and General Flood, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, sitting alone on one of the couches with a series of folders spread out on the coffee table.
Rapp could tell instantly that Kennedy had broken the news to the four-star general. The stony expression on the soldier's face said it all.
It was hard enough to lose men in battle but it was beyond infuriating to know that it could have been prevented.
Rapp decided that given the subject at hand it was better for him not to speak. Before he had a chance to sit, President Hayes entered his office with a cortege of aides trailing him. At over six feet tall with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, Hayes stood out in a crowd, and like most men who had reached his station in life, he exuded a real magnetism.
The men and women who worked for him wanted desperately to please him. Hayes unbuttoned his suit coat as he strode toward his desk. By the time he reached it the coat was off. He turned to face the three aides who were arguing about the administration's education bill.
Hayes held up his hands, palms out, and the three fell silent like well-disciplined kids obeying their father.
As Rapp watched the exchange take place he noticed, not for the first time, that the President had gained a little weight. It was a subject the two men had discussed on several occasions. Rapp, a former tri-athlete still worked out six days a week and watched his intake closely.
The President had confided in him that he was very wary of what his job was doing to his health. After all his official duties, which there was scarcely enough time for, there was still the Democratic Party and its incessant need to raise money.
Barely a day passed when there wasn't a fund-raiser of some sort, and where there was a fund-raiser one could always count on lots of food and booze. Rapp had designed a bare-bones workout plan that the President could do in forty-five minutes. The goal was to do it five days a week, first thing in the morning. As Rapp looked at the President's expanding waistline, he had a feeling the man had been skipping his workouts.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," said the President firmly.
"By the end of the day I want you all on the same page. If the three of you can't come up with a consensus, this thing will be dead before it reaches the Hill." One of the aides tried to get in a last word, but the President cut her off with a terse motion toward the door. The three left the room dejectedly and closed the door behind them.
Hayes dropped into his chair and picked up a pair of reading glasses from the desk. After quickly glancing over his schedule, he pressed his intercom button and said, "Cheryl, I don't want to be interrupted for the next fifteen minutes."
"Yes, Mr. President," came the always even reply of his gatekeeper.
Hayes looked up and waved for his three visitors to join
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