Purpose of Evasion Read Online Free PDF Page B

in Libya.”
    Arafat’s eyes widened with resentment. Despite being scattered throughout the Middle East and North Africa, despite decentralized leadership, despite being oppressed and demoralized, Palestinians had never lost sight of their goal. “Are you suggesting we relinquish our claim to Palestine?” Arafat asked incredulously.
    “On the contrary,” Moncrieff replied, having purposely provoked him to make the distinction. “I believe this could go a long way to securing it.”
    Arafat’s eyes softened with curiosity. “How so?”
    “Think of it as a sanctuary; a territory, if you will, where you could gather your people and infuse them with a renewed sense of hope and purpose.”
    Arafat mused as the implication dawned on him. He had long ago admitted, if only to himself, that the Israelis would neverwillingly grant Palestinians any degree of sovereignty. Indeed, they had recently begun resettling Soviet Jews throughout the West Bank and Gaza Strip. “An unoccupied territory—”
    “Yes, sir, precisely.”
    “Free of Israeli scrutiny,” Arafat went on, becoming more intrigued with what he was envisioning. “One where, if I understand your thinking correctly, Palestinians and their leaders could regroup and launch an all-out effort to reclaim their homeland.”
    “I’d say your view coincides with mine, sir, yes.”
    Arafat settled back in his chair and spooned some honey into a cup of tea. The idea had merit, he thought. Divide and conquer was the oldest tactic in the book; and for decades, the Israelis had confined Palestinians to territories in southern Lebanon, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip, which their forces occupied—territories that were thousands of miles from Tunis, where the PLO leadership had been exiled. Four frustrating years of it, not to mention decades as the titular head of a nonexistent nation, had convinced Arafat that reunification was vital. “I think it’s worth exploring,” he said after a long silence. “What does Qaddafi want? Or should I be asking, how much?” he added with a knowing smile.
    “No, he’s not interested in money; but he would very much like to acquire certain ‘currency’ which you’ve amassed per Article Seventeen of the Intifada. ”
    Arafat stiffened as Moncrieff expected he would. The Intifada was the PLO manifesto, a top-secret document that after decades of impulsive warfare and rhetoric had precisely defined the movement’s goals and tactics, and given the Palestinian uprising its name. Only PLO leaders were privy to its contents.
    “I proofed the first drafts, sir,” Moncrieff explained. “I met the author when I was at MIT; actually, I knew her quite well.”
    “Then you also know Abu Nidal controls the currency you’re after, not I.”
    “That’s why I came to you first.”
    “Abu Nidal is no longer a member of the PLO. I’ve no power over him,” Arafat declared, splaying his hands resignedly. “To be blunt, you don’t stand a chance.”
    “They said that about the Zionists in forty-eight,” Moncrieff replied, risking the insult to win his respect. He knew that the Palestinians’ hatred of their archenemy was tempered by grudging admiration. The Zionists had pulled it off— they had a homeland.
    Arafat studied Moncrieffs eyes, gauging his intent. It was aguileless challenge, a forthright peering into one’s soul in the Arab manner. Then the PLO chairman’s expression softened, and he pulled himself from the chair. “We’ll take a walk,” he said genially. “And I will tell you what you’re up against with Abu Nidal.”
    Arafat slipped through the arched doors into the courtyard and strolled off into the night with Moncrieff at his side. Two bodyguards appeared from the shadows and followed them across the pale gray marble. “It’s a horrid story,” Arafat began. “A story that would make a smart man abandon the idea. Of course, there’s always the fool who would find it encouraging.”
    IN WASHINGTON, D.C., the