expire and we'll finally get to the bottom of this."
I said, "Maybe."
Phyllis looked annoyed. "Where are the maybes?"
Bian, who had been sitting and listening to us bicker and debate these weighty issues of right versus wrong, of legal procedure versus seat-of-your-pants bullshit, chose this moment to observe, "I think she's right."
This statement annoyed me a lot, coming as it did at such a pivotal moment; no less from a military police officer; no less from a comrade in arms; and last and not least, from my putative partner.
Partners are supposed to back each other up. Right? I was really pissed and I looked at Bian. "I don't remember asking what you think."
"Don't use that tone with me," she snapped. "I told you before, I don't like to be condescended to."
I studied her a moment. Now she was really pissed. I could tell.
"I'm sorry."
"Try it again and you'll be sorrier."
My goodness. But Phyllis quickly swooped down on her new ally and asked Bian, "Why am I right?"
Bian looked at me and answered, "Even if you apply the most optimistic standard, there is only one person we could even hope to charge with a crime." She added, "He's dead. Beyond that we have only suspicions that would sound outrageous to any rational person."
Phyllis nodded at her prized pupil. "But do you believe these suspicions are . . . do they hold water?"
Bian stared back at her.
Phyllis said, "This is important. For instance, when was the relationship between Clifford Daniels and Charabi first formed?"
"About ten years ago," Bian replied. "Don mentioned the year . . . 1993 or 1994."
"The fifteenth of December 1994, according to the report he was required to file after that meeting. But until this administration came to power, their partnership was meaningless--inane and silly, to tell the truth. The previous President had no intention of invading Iraq. It did not become fully empowered until after Hirschfield and Tigerman returned to the Pentagon, and it really gained legs post-9/11."
She stood up and began quickly pacing around the room. "The information and sources fed us by Charabi were pivotal to the President's decision to go to war. And, of course, they were included in the public justification for the invasion. Believe me, I know. Were it not for this information . . ."
She let that statement drag off, and I nodded. That's what it said in the news reports, and Phyllis, who had been on the inside, had a firsthand view of the decisions that led to war, and now she was confirming the reportage.
Phyllis continued, "Don surmised that Daniels prodded or drove Charabi into the arms of Iranian intelligence." She looked at me. "What do you think about that?"
"Inter canem et lupum," I replied.
For Bian's benefit, Phyllis translated my Latin: "Between the dog and the wolf. The more up-to-date expression is that he placed him between a rock and a hard place." She focused on Bian and asked, "Do you believe that? Is it the only explanation?"
Bian played with her pen for a moment. "I don't . . . There's an unproven assumption here, isn't there?"
Phyllis stopped her pacing and leaned across the table, facing Bian and me. "We're assuming that Daniels drove him into Iran's arms. But there's another possibility, isn't there?" I could almost hear the game clock ticking.
So I eliminated that assumption from my logic train, and thought about it . . . and . . .
And holy shit.
Eliminate that assumption and you arrive at a whole new theory-- that maybe Charabi didn't need a shove, or even a nudge or nasty threat, because he already worked for Iran. And from there, it was a hop, skip, and a jump to the slightly more expansive proposition that Charabi was--from the beginning--working either with or for Iran's intelligence service. Bian also pieced this together, because she looked at me, her eyes large.
Phyllis said, "Possibly Mahmoud Charabi was . . . well, in the intelligence lexicon, an agent of influence. He may even have been an Iranian plant to feed us disinformation." She started to say something else, thought better of it, and, with a regretful pout, instead suggested, "I'm surprised we never considered this before. It is the oldest gambit in the business."
I thought I had seen everything. But the hypothesis, the idea, the supposition--or whatever it was--that Iran, via its agent Charabi, had recruited first Tigerman, then Daniels, then the entire Pentagon, and then the White House, was almost beyond belief. Almost.