Hansen said, swiveling to look at Mercaldi, who nodded in agreement.
The president nodded. “Can you bring me up to speed?”
“Of course.” The secretary spoke for seven or eight minutes, providing the president with a verbal snapshot of the joint program.
When he concluded, the president said, “Thanks, Rich. It’s good to see some positive steps have been taken. I’m only sorry we can’t inform the American people about what’s being done on their behalf.”
Dwayne Daley cleared his throat. “Mr. President,” he said, “I don’t want to be negative, but there’s a downside that could prove perilous to our strategic goals in the region.”
“Really?” The president turned toward his counterterrorism advisor. “Give us your thoughts, Dwayne.”
“We’re in danger of alienating the Pakistanis, Mr. President. These reckless missile attacks are nothing less than provocations. Every attack becomes a recruiting message to al-Qaeda and Pakistan’s own extremist elements.”
“Every attack takes out the enemies of Pakistan as well as the U.S., Dwayne,” Wes Bolin interrupted. “We’re killing the same people who are killing Pakistanis by the scores.”
The admiral turned toward the president. “Sir, I’ve been to Pakistan six times in the past eight months, and I can tell you firsthand”—Bolin looked pointedly at the counterterrorism advisor—“that, one, the program is working, and two, the Pakistanis are grateful.”
“Well,” Daley said reprovingly, “not universally, Admiral. Let’s be accurate.”
“You’re right, Dwayne, not every single Pakistani loves us.” Bolin wasn’t about to take on the counterterrorism advisor in this venue. But he wasn’t going to be stepped on, either.
There was a brief silence. Then the president asked, “What about the other program? The one you’re running in Abbottabad?”
“We are making consistent progress,” Vince Mercaldi said. “The monitoring base is set up. We have identified eighteen individuals so far as occupants of the villa.”
“But,” the president interjected, “not our primary target, right?”
“Not yet, Mr. President.”
“Can you give me a ballpark?”
The CIA director shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. These things take time. We have eyes and ears on scene. We have good resources on the ground—we even sent one of our assets, a doctor, to the compound as part of an inoculation program in the Abbottabad area.”
The president looked quizzically at the D/CIA. “CIA set up an inoculation program?”
“We did, Mr. President. Through a false-flag front, which is an organization that doesn’t know it’s working for CIA, we covertly funded a Pakistan-based NGO that wanted to offer hepatitis B shots in Abbottabad. Then we slipped in our penetration agent, a physician, as a volunteer inoculator. We figured we could get some bang for the buck by not only getting him inside the compound, but also doing some good for the people of Abbottabad.”
The president smiled. “That’s thinking outside the box, Vince. Great idea.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. I wish it had been mine. But it came from one of our Bin Laden Group people.”
“Oh, really. Who?”
“We call him Spike.”
“I’d like to meet Spike someday.”
“Of course, sir.”
“So, what finally happened?”
“Our doctor was admitted to the Khan compound, but not the house itself. Nor was he allowed to vaccinate anyone. So we never obtained any DNA samples.”
“Too bad,” the president said.
“Nor did he see anyone who resembled UBL.”
The president bit his lower lip but said nothing.
Mercaldi continued. “Still, we are confident the Pakistanis have no idea about our presence in Abbottabad.”
The president frowned. “So, we have not yet enjoyed eyes on target.”
“Regrettably correct, Mr. President. For the moment, anyway, that’s where things stand.”
“Mr. President, perhaps it’s time—” Dwayne Daley started to
The president nodded. “Can you bring me up to speed?”
“Of course.” The secretary spoke for seven or eight minutes, providing the president with a verbal snapshot of the joint program.
When he concluded, the president said, “Thanks, Rich. It’s good to see some positive steps have been taken. I’m only sorry we can’t inform the American people about what’s being done on their behalf.”
Dwayne Daley cleared his throat. “Mr. President,” he said, “I don’t want to be negative, but there’s a downside that could prove perilous to our strategic goals in the region.”
“Really?” The president turned toward his counterterrorism advisor. “Give us your thoughts, Dwayne.”
“We’re in danger of alienating the Pakistanis, Mr. President. These reckless missile attacks are nothing less than provocations. Every attack becomes a recruiting message to al-Qaeda and Pakistan’s own extremist elements.”
“Every attack takes out the enemies of Pakistan as well as the U.S., Dwayne,” Wes Bolin interrupted. “We’re killing the same people who are killing Pakistanis by the scores.”
The admiral turned toward the president. “Sir, I’ve been to Pakistan six times in the past eight months, and I can tell you firsthand”—Bolin looked pointedly at the counterterrorism advisor—“that, one, the program is working, and two, the Pakistanis are grateful.”
“Well,” Daley said reprovingly, “not universally, Admiral. Let’s be accurate.”
“You’re right, Dwayne, not every single Pakistani loves us.” Bolin wasn’t about to take on the counterterrorism advisor in this venue. But he wasn’t going to be stepped on, either.
There was a brief silence. Then the president asked, “What about the other program? The one you’re running in Abbottabad?”
“We are making consistent progress,” Vince Mercaldi said. “The monitoring base is set up. We have identified eighteen individuals so far as occupants of the villa.”
“But,” the president interjected, “not our primary target, right?”
“Not yet, Mr. President.”
“Can you give me a ballpark?”
The CIA director shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. These things take time. We have eyes and ears on scene. We have good resources on the ground—we even sent one of our assets, a doctor, to the compound as part of an inoculation program in the Abbottabad area.”
The president looked quizzically at the D/CIA. “CIA set up an inoculation program?”
“We did, Mr. President. Through a false-flag front, which is an organization that doesn’t know it’s working for CIA, we covertly funded a Pakistan-based NGO that wanted to offer hepatitis B shots in Abbottabad. Then we slipped in our penetration agent, a physician, as a volunteer inoculator. We figured we could get some bang for the buck by not only getting him inside the compound, but also doing some good for the people of Abbottabad.”
The president smiled. “That’s thinking outside the box, Vince. Great idea.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. I wish it had been mine. But it came from one of our Bin Laden Group people.”
“Oh, really. Who?”
“We call him Spike.”
“I’d like to meet Spike someday.”
“Of course, sir.”
“So, what finally happened?”
“Our doctor was admitted to the Khan compound, but not the house itself. Nor was he allowed to vaccinate anyone. So we never obtained any DNA samples.”
“Too bad,” the president said.
“Nor did he see anyone who resembled UBL.”
The president bit his lower lip but said nothing.
Mercaldi continued. “Still, we are confident the Pakistanis have no idea about our presence in Abbottabad.”
The president frowned. “So, we have not yet enjoyed eyes on target.”
“Regrettably correct, Mr. President. For the moment, anyway, that’s where things stand.”
“Mr. President, perhaps it’s time—” Dwayne Daley started to
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