figure something out ... "
"Or?"
His eyes were hard. "Or I won't." He walked out of the secretary-general's office without another word, leaving the diplomat alone with his thoughts.
Zinsou felt a tightness in his chest. In truth, he had slept poorly since he had first been briefed on the crisis by the president of the United States, who had only reluctantly acceded to Janson's insistence that he do so. Zinsou was and continued to be utterly aghast. How could the United States of America have been so reckless? Except it wasn't the United States, exactly; it was a small cabal of programmers. Planners, as Janson would say. The secret had been passed down from one presidential administration to another, like the codes to the country's nuclear arsenal - and scarcely less dangerous.
Zinsou personally knew more heads of state than anyone alive. He knew that the president was, if anything, underestimating the bloody tumult that would be unleashed were the truth of the Mobius Program ever to emerge. He pictured the prime ministers, presidents, premiers, party secretaries, emirs, and kings of a duped planet. The whole postwar entente would lay in tatters. Throughout the world's trouble spots, scores of treaties and charters of conflict resolution would be falsified, invalidated, because their author would have been unmasked as an impostor - an American penetration agent. The peace treaty that Peter Novak negotiated in Cyprus? It would be shredded within hours, to mutual recriminations between the Turks and the Greeks. Each side would accuse the other of having known the truth all along; a pact that once seemed impartial would now be interpreted as subtly favoring the enemy. And elsewhere?
Your currency crisis in Malaysia? Terribly sorry, old chap. We did that. The little dip in the sterling seven years ago that caused the economy of Great Britain to lose a few points of GDP? Yes, our exploitation of that made a bad situation much, much worse. Awfully sorry, don't know what we were thinking ...
An era of relative peace and prosperity would give way to one bereft of both. And what of the Liberty Foundation offices throughout the developing world and Eastern Europe - exposed now as an undercover American intelligence operation? Many cooperating governments would simply not survive the humiliation. Others, to maintain credibility among their citizens, would suspend all relations with the United States and designate the former ally as an adversary. American-owned businesses, even those unrelated to the Liberty Foundation, would be seized by governments, their assets frozen. World trade would be dealt a devastating blow. Meanwhile, the planet's embittered and disaffected would, at last, have a casus belli; inchoate suspicions would find a catalyst. Among both official political parties and broader resistance movements, the revelations would provide a rallying cry against the American imperium. The semi-unified entity that was Europe would finally coalesce - around a new shared enemy, with a united Europe squaring off against the United States.
Who could defend it? Who would think to? Here was a country that had betrayed its closest and staunchest allies. A country that had secretly manipulated the levers of government across the planet. A country that would now incur the unmitigated wrath of billions. Even organizations that were dedicated to international cooperation would fall under suspicion. It would, very likely, spell the end of the United Nations, if not immediately, then in short order, in a tide of broadening rancor and suspicion.
And that would mean - what was the American expression? - a world of trouble.
The Caliph reread the cable he had just received, and felt a pleasurable glow of anticipation. It was as if overcast skies had parted to reveal a pure and luminous ray of sunlight. Peter Novak was going to be addressing the annual meeting of the U.N. General Assembly. The man - and he was, ultimately, no more than a man - would show his face at last. He would be greeted by insipid gratitude, by laurels and acclamation. And, if the Caliph had his way, by something more.
Now he turned to the Mansur minister of security - plainly little more than a jumped-up carpet merchant, despite the rhetorical inflation of his title - and spoke to him in tones both courteous and commanding. "This meeting of the international community will be an important moment for the Islamic Republic of Mansur," he said.
"But of course," replied the minister, a small, homely man who wore a simple white head wrap. On matters that did not concern Koranic orthodoxy, the