One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [29]
He picked up a paperweight off Standish’s desk and twirled it around in his hands. “The council is well versed on the ramifications of these types of things. It seemed as if you were questioning our judgment.”
Shit. I’m being frozen out. What did Kurt say? Still wearing a smile, Standish said, “Got it, sir. I just thought that Kurt and the council were being a little timid on everything. We have quite a few opportunities here that we could seize right now if we wanted. I don’t think the council understands how important—”
Palmer interrupted. “Look, I know you don’t have a lot of experience in government, and I see that as a good thing, but these activities are very, very, volatile. The combined experience of the council is probably over a hundred years dealing with national security issues. You have to trust that we know what we’re doing.”
Maybe that’s why nothing ever gets done, you pompous ass. You’ve worked so long inside the government you don’t even realize you’re a chickenshit. The entire council thinks that talking about doing something is the same as action.
“Sir, I meant absolutely no disrespect. I know I have less time in the government than other folks, but I have worked inside the NSC for the last three years. I’ve seen how things run. We seem to make more charts and briefings about doing something than actually doing something. I just think the Taskforce could be better utilized.”
Palmer replaced the paperweight and stood, indicating the meeting was over. “I hear you. Sometimes I think the same way, and admire your attitude, but you’ve only been on the Oversight Council for six months. Give it some time before you decide we’re all hand-wringers. See a few operations go down, then begin to contribute. Okay?”
“Sure. Yes. I don’t want to get a reputation as a know-it-all. I’ll sit back and watch for a while.”
“Good. That’s what I hoped you’d say. You’re a valuable contributor and I don’t want to lose you.”
Standish watched the door close, thinking, Valuable contributor, huh? Not yet, but I will be, you patronizing asshole. He had seen the sausage factory of decision-making by the inner circle of the U.S. government and determined it was a recipe for failure. What was needed was decisive action, without a bunch of quibbling from Congress, or, heaven forbid, from the great unwashed of the American electorate.
Since Al Qaeda had started this war in 2001, Standish had seen the U.S. take a daily beating on everything it did in its defense. The public just didn’t seem to understand that there was a threat. Christ, even global warming is seen as a bigger danger. After watching all of the timid, halfhearted measures employed by the United States, he was convinced that something more aggressive needed to occur, outside of the public eye. The Taskforce was the perfect tool for the job. If he could get control of the Taskforce, the nation could get serious about terrorism. He couldn’t order around the CIA or the military, but he could definitely find a use for an organization that had no official affiliation with the U.S. government. Shit, even Ollie North could do that.
18
The Arabs had retired to Miguel’s guesthouse and were embroiled in a heated conversation. Far from being ignorant, both had spent countless hours with a Rosetta Stone Spanish software program in preparation for this trip. While they couldn’t pass as natives, they were now fairly fluent—something they had kept hidden from their host.
The shorter of the two went by the kunya of Abu Sayyidd, after Sayyidd Qutb, the Egyptian member of the Muslim Brotherhood, whose rabid proselytizing and interpretation of the Quran were, before his execution in 1966, milestones in future Islamic fundamentalist thinking.
The taller one, and the one who had done all the talking earlier, went by the kunya of Abu Bakr, after the first caliph who ruled following Muhammad’s death, and the first caliph leading to the split between Shia and Sunni.
Ordinarily a kunya is a nickname meaning “the father of,