SIXTY NINE.

    President Hayes was leaning forward in his leather chair with both elbows planted on the long shiny conference table that dominated the Situation Room. One hand clutched the white receiver of his secure telephone unit and the other was placed over his brow to shield his eyes from any distraction. He was talking to the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, a man he considered his friend. The Prince was someone who Hayes felt truly wanted to see east and west merge peacefully, but was unfortunately saddled with a populace that for the most part preferred religious rhetoric and inflammatory speech over enlightenment and liberty.

    Hayes knew Crown Prince Faisal and his cousin were close. That made the call difficult enough, but it was also difficult because Hayes was embarrassed; embarrassed that such an attack had occurred on American soil, just blocks from the White House, just minutes after the Ambassador had sat in the Oval Office and delivered an ultimatum that if not heeded would put the tenuous American economy into a downward spiral. An ultimatum that certain hard-liners in Washington would deem an act of war.

    The thought of that news alone becoming public caused the President to become momentarily nauseous. The conspiracy nuts and leftist anti-oil crowd would have a field day with that juicy connection. Saudi Ambassador comes to White House, threatens oil embargo and then is killed in explosion after leaving meeting with the President. This would be next to impossible to contain. No matter how innocent he was there would always be those who would forever believe President Robert Hayes or someone in his administration had had a hand in the Ambassador's death.

    Hayes, in his attempt to console the Crown Prince, stated over and over how sorry he was and that he would make sure the perpetrators were caught and brought to justice. Something in the Crown Princes voice told Hayes that the monarch did not believe him. As a final gesture, Hayes asked the Crown Prince if there was anything he could do to help ease the pain. Crown Prince Faisal made only one request, and it was one that given the current situation the President knew he could not refuse.

    President Hayes slowly hung up the phone and with the expression of a beaten man said, "Inform Ambassador Brieseth at the UN that we will be voting for the French resolution this afternoon."

    Secretary of State Berg and Chief of Staff Jones were alone with the President in the Situation Room. Both shifted in their chairs uncomfortably and exchanged nervous looks. It was Jones's job to speak first. She had known Hayes the longest and was his closest advisor.

    In a soft voice Jones asked, "Robert, what did Faisal ask of you?"

    "He does not want his cousin's death to be in vain. He wants me to help make a Palestinian state a reality."

    Jones nodded thoughtfully. She did not want to face an oil embargo, but neither did she want to face the wrath of the Jewish lobby.

    "I'm not saying we shouldn't do that, but don't you think we should talk about it?"

    Hayes simply shook his head.

    "There's nothing left to talk about. I don't trust the Palestinians any more than you do, but the truth is I don't trust the Israelis either. If we don't vote for this resolution we'll once again look like we're doing Israel's bidding, and we can't continue to look so one-sided in the eyes of the Arab world."

    The Secretary of State cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me, Mr. President, but Israel is the only democracy in a region dominated by dictators, corruption and a very dangerous strain of religious zealotry."

    "I know all that, but it doesn't change the fact that we'll once again look like we're favoring Israel. Add to that the fact that the Saudi Ambassador delivered us an ultimatum and then his limousine was blown up…" Hayes paused in frustration and through gritted teeth said, "The Arab street will think we killed him. They'll hit us with an oil embargo and consumer prices will skyrocket and our economy will go right into the tank. We are boxed in."

    "Sir," cautioned Berg, "there are better ways to do this. I can guarantee you that Israel will defy the UN if the French march this resolution through the Security Council. This vote, sir, could very easily lead to open war." Berg leaned forward, stressing her next point.

    "We need to get a cease-fire in place first, and then come up with a well-thought-out plan and timetable, or all of this will be a disaster."

    "How? The French have made it abundantly clear that they will not delay the vote."

    "For starters, let's get Prime Minister Goldberg to pull his forces out of Hebron, and let's get him to do it immediately! The Israeli Ambassador is in the building. We can deliver a stern ultimatum and demand immediate action."

    "And what about the vote?" asked a skeptical Hayes.

    "We'll work on getting the French to delay it."

    Hayes lowered his head and thought about it for a moment. The idea of getting the Israelis to pull out of Hebron was appealing, but he'd learned long ago that getting the French to do anything was never easy. Halfheartedly he nodded his approval.

    "Let's do what we can, but if nothing has changed by the time the vote comes up, we're going to support it. I see no other choice."