say. But he caught the expression on Vince Mercaldi’s face. It made him stop short. “Sorry, sir. Nothing.”
The president rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “Should we get what you call ‘eyes on’ our target, Vince, how long would it take to mount an operation?”
“It’s so preliminary we hadn’t discussed specifics yet, Mr. President.”
“Not even a ballpark?”
That damn ballpark again. Then the CIA director caught something in the president’s eye, an almost indiscernible glint of negativity and reluctance to act, that made him swivel toward Wesley Bolin. “Wes, any ideas?”
Vince Mercaldi knew that Wes Bolin had ideas because they’d discussed them not two hours before. Bolin had told him that a capture/kill strike by Delta Force or SEALs was the most efficient way to take out Bin Laden. He’d mounted more than a thousand such raids over the past year. The only problem was Pakistan. They’d have to make a stealth approach in order to get in under the Pak radar. Otherwise, it was all very straightforward. As Bolin put it, “Vince, we’ve been doing these sorts of snatch-and-grabs for nigh on thirty years.”
The SEAL admiral thought about the question for a few seconds. He’d noted the tension in the room and decided that specificity wasn’t a good idea right now. “Less time than you might think, Mr. President. We’ve already got a pretty good idea about the venue’s layout. The question is what we’d like the outcome to be. We could use air assets—repeat what we did in the opening hours of the Iraq war, when we bombed the three locations we believed were the most likely places Saddam would be. But as you know, we missed him then. My preference would be boots on the ground, which—”
“Admiral, as Vince just said, perhaps it’s still very early in the process to be discussing specifics,” Hansen interjected, cutting Bolin off. The SECDEF had good sources at this White House. He knew that both Daley and the national security advisor had been telling the president that the CIA base in Abbottabad was a risky operation that could end in disaster, and that a manned assault mission would permanently fracture U.S. relations with Pakistan.
Privately, Rich Hansen shared a rare agreement with the counterterrorism advisor about a special operations raid, but for other reasons. Hansen had been at CIA during the Desert One catastrophe. It was his firm opinion that the mission had been designed to fail by a timid, spineless administration led by a timid, spineless president. Still, that shattering experience colored every decision he had subsequently made. There was no way he would allow American lives to be squandered the way they had been in April 1980.
There was another factor as well: this president. Hansen and Mercaldi were Washington veterans who had worked for administrations both Republican and Democrat. They had discussed it and agreed that neither had been a part of any administration so lacking in weltanschauung and strategic sophistication as the one they both now served.
They had also agreed earlier in the day that this particular meeting was neither the time nor the place to debate the tactical—or, for that matter, the strategic—issues surrounding a possible Abbottabad operation.
Bolin swiveled toward the SECDEF. “Sorry, Mr. Secretary. You’re right: we don’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”
Hansen was relieved to see the admiral stand down so readily. Besides, there was one more reason the SECDEF didn’t want to discuss specific tactics. He knew from previous experience that this commander in chief was a man who possessed very little background in military planning. Neither did this particular president possess a sophisticated understanding about the real-life imperatives of special operations missions—or just about any other military mission, for that matter. It was, Hansen thought, partially generational—this president had been nowhere near draft age
The president rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “Should we get what you call ‘eyes on’ our target, Vince, how long would it take to mount an operation?”
“It’s so preliminary we hadn’t discussed specifics yet, Mr. President.”
“Not even a ballpark?”
That damn ballpark again. Then the CIA director caught something in the president’s eye, an almost indiscernible glint of negativity and reluctance to act, that made him swivel toward Wesley Bolin. “Wes, any ideas?”
Vince Mercaldi knew that Wes Bolin had ideas because they’d discussed them not two hours before. Bolin had told him that a capture/kill strike by Delta Force or SEALs was the most efficient way to take out Bin Laden. He’d mounted more than a thousand such raids over the past year. The only problem was Pakistan. They’d have to make a stealth approach in order to get in under the Pak radar. Otherwise, it was all very straightforward. As Bolin put it, “Vince, we’ve been doing these sorts of snatch-and-grabs for nigh on thirty years.”
The SEAL admiral thought about the question for a few seconds. He’d noted the tension in the room and decided that specificity wasn’t a good idea right now. “Less time than you might think, Mr. President. We’ve already got a pretty good idea about the venue’s layout. The question is what we’d like the outcome to be. We could use air assets—repeat what we did in the opening hours of the Iraq war, when we bombed the three locations we believed were the most likely places Saddam would be. But as you know, we missed him then. My preference would be boots on the ground, which—”
“Admiral, as Vince just said, perhaps it’s still very early in the process to be discussing specifics,” Hansen interjected, cutting Bolin off. The SECDEF had good sources at this White House. He knew that both Daley and the national security advisor had been telling the president that the CIA base in Abbottabad was a risky operation that could end in disaster, and that a manned assault mission would permanently fracture U.S. relations with Pakistan.
Privately, Rich Hansen shared a rare agreement with the counterterrorism advisor about a special operations raid, but for other reasons. Hansen had been at CIA during the Desert One catastrophe. It was his firm opinion that the mission had been designed to fail by a timid, spineless administration led by a timid, spineless president. Still, that shattering experience colored every decision he had subsequently made. There was no way he would allow American lives to be squandered the way they had been in April 1980.
There was another factor as well: this president. Hansen and Mercaldi were Washington veterans who had worked for administrations both Republican and Democrat. They had discussed it and agreed that neither had been a part of any administration so lacking in weltanschauung and strategic sophistication as the one they both now served.
They had also agreed earlier in the day that this particular meeting was neither the time nor the place to debate the tactical—or, for that matter, the strategic—issues surrounding a possible Abbottabad operation.
Bolin swiveled toward the SECDEF. “Sorry, Mr. Secretary. You’re right: we don’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”
Hansen was relieved to see the admiral stand down so readily. Besides, there was one more reason the SECDEF didn’t want to discuss specific tactics. He knew from previous experience that this commander in chief was a man who possessed very little background in military planning. Neither did this particular president possess a sophisticated understanding about the real-life imperatives of special operations missions—or just about any other military mission, for that matter. It was, Hansen thought, partially generational—this president had been nowhere near draft age
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