[06:20 September 12, 2002]
"Minister Morceau!"
"Prime Minister McKenna!"
"Deputy prime minister, would you take a question!"
"Minister Brickhill!" It was impossible to tell which reporter was shouting what at whom.
"Can we expect a comment on the situation in Qumar?"
"Is it true that—"
The turmoil was shut out as the door swung closed behind them. "How the hell did they know we were going to be here?" Brickhill growled. "It's not hardly daylight yet and there were twelve of them out there, asking about Qumar of all things. That's no co-incidence."
"I guess it's been about a month since the Qumaris re-opened the investigation and it was yesterday that stuff really started happening," Monaghan said, a note of exhaustion in her voice. "They could have figured it out."
"It's more likely that they've been tipped off," Brickhill pointed out, already reaching up to loosen the knot in his tie.
"Does it really matter?" Monaghan shot back. "We were going to have to make a statement anyway."
"But we could have made it on our own time," Brickhill retorted. "You'd better wake up your press officer, David. We're going to need to issue a statement before Question Period."
"Let's just take a step back and look at the situation before we do anything," McKenna broke in calmly. Instead of heading directly to his office, they went to one of the conference rooms instead. It was too big, set up for a committee meeting, but it gave them more space. McKenna and Brickhill sank into chairs; Monaghan and Morceau stayed standing. "What exactly is happening over there?"
"You remember a couple of months ago when the Qumari defence minister disappeared near Bermuda?" Monaghan received a round of nods from around the table. She continued, "Apparently they re-opened the investigation into it a month or so ago. I don't know exactly what they found, but it sounds like they're going to pin it on Israel."
"Please don't tell me the 'it' is what we were afraid it was going to be. Tell me they're not blaming the Israelis for that."
"They're going to blame the Israelis for purposely taking out Shareef's plane," she confirmed, picking a chair to sink down into.
"Well, did they do it?" Brickhill demanded, obviously displeased at the direction the conversation was going in. It didn't look likely to wind up giving them reassuring news.
"To the best of our intelligence, they didn't," Morceau spoke up. "The plane took off and everything was normal. There were no real signs of trouble until the plane disappeared somewhere near Bermuda. That's the extent of what we know. The British might know more, but they're not telling."
"The Qumaris say that they have…" She hesitated and had to stop to re-read something in the file folder she had been referring to. "They have, um… The transcript to a cell phone call placed from the plane. But they're not releasing it to anyone yet. We're not sure if they even have anything or if they're just claiming that they do."
Brickhill broke in here, a lot more firm and convincing than Monaghan had been. "The guys from CSIS are at a consensus that the Qumaris are trying to provoke a response from someone," he stated. "But the consensus ends at who exactly they're trying to provoke. Israelis, Palestinians, Saudis, Americans: it could be just about anyone. They don't have a real great track record with anyone."
"Wait a second, the CSIS guys?" McKenna questioned. "Wouldn't this be a matter for the CSE?"
"There was that bomb set off at Kansas State University last night, shortly after five o'clock," Monaghan offered. "They don't know if it's related to the whole Qumari thing or if it was just a coincidence. But they're not taking any chances either way."
"I didn't think of that," McKenna said. Pausing for a second, he looked from one person to another. They didn't look overly encouraged at the situation. Morceau was still standing, pacing back and forth worriedly. Brickhill looked totally unconcerned, but his jacket and tie were still on so McKenna knew that he was more anxious that he was letting on. And Monaghan looked absolutely exhausted. "Let's get some people on the phone," he said finally. "Let's bring this up in the UN, get diplomacy working there if we can. And let's give the ambassadors a call, starting with ours and then the American one."
"I talked to Dorset last night, shortly after the thing at the university. He's expecting an early phone call. It was too late to call President Bartlet's office last night, but he was planning to call first thing in the morning," Monaghan said. "You should call personally and offer condolences."
"And fish for some information," Brickhill contributed. "I still think you should get your press officer in here. There's going to need to be a statement of some kind or another soon, before the press runs wild with whatever they've got."
"I'll call him from my office. The rest of you go make sure that you're up to date on all of this. Update me when you find anything new; I want to hear it from your lips."
"Yes, sir."
"Oui, monsier le premier ministre."
"Monaghan, come to my office with me and we'll call the ambassadors together," he said, standing to leave. Monaghan flipped her file of information closed and followed suit. The two headed together down the hall to the prime minister's office. McKenna slowed his long strides to walk beside his much shorter deputy.
"How much sleep did you get last night?" he asked softly.
"Maybe a couple of hours," she admitted. "I was on the phone most of the night."
"After these phone calls, we'll have a couple of hours before we have to make a statement. In that time, I want you to find somewhere quiet and get some rest." He saw the protests rising on her lips. "Think about how it'll look if you show up exhausted after a clandestine morning meeting as we announce a potential diplomatic crisis."
She reluctantly nodded. "Oui, monsier le premier ministre."
"You might want to get your parliamentary secretary and your people in here fairly quickly too." She nodded in response. "Welcome to the office, eh?" he asked, a half-hearted smile twitching at one corner of his mouth.