Tenet paced alongside the table, his sentences punctuated by hand gestures unconsciously.

"We have a 60 country problem with Al Qaeda."

Bush turned tersely to the CIA director and spoke with determination.

"So? We'll Pick them off one at a time."

Cheney sat, grim faced his hands folded and on the desk as Rumsfeld spoke from the corner of the room where he had positioned himself.

"When dealing with terrorists, you can't just unload the tanks and expect to get them. You'll need to use non-military, forces & personnel."

"Whatever it takes" Bush replied, "Whatever it takes."

"Our Special Activities forces can be in place in 72 hours." Tenet responded.

Bush made a motion to me as he exited the room and we walked down a long featureless hall to the President's Nuclear Operations Office (NOO). He sat down in a big comfy leather chair and crossed his legs.

A portable electric heater warmed the room.

"It's cold in here." Bush said, his voice revealing the stress he was under.

I turned up the heat another notch to full blast.

"Why?" Bush said, talking to himself quietly as he gazed at the floor as if something of great interest was there, "Why now"?

Before I could say anything, Andrew Card popped his head in, "Your father has arrived and is on his way down."

The senior Bush entered within two minutes. As soon as he entered, he hugged his son in a long embrace,"It's awful son - I know. I know." Six eyeballs were tearing in the room.

I felt like an intruder, witnessing moments best left private.

"The senior Bush looked at me and winked...a way of saying hello he picked up when media or other folks kept him busy.

I hadn't seen that wink in over eight years - and it was a damn welcome sight.

"What do we got?"

"Preliminary intelligence indicates that the terrorists on all three flights were independent Saudi affiliates of Osama Bin Laden's terrorist network."

Bush pounded his hand on the side of his chair, "Bin Laden, again! That bozo has just signed his death warrant."

"Where is he?" The President asked.

"Afghanistan."

An expletive could be heard.

"Damn land locked pile of rubbish. Makes Iraq appear like the hub of civilization."

The senior Bush spoke authoritatively and looked me straight in the eye, "I want OUR people to get in there first. Find and take out Bin Laden!"

After six years working for the man, four of them when he was President of the United States of America, I knew what that look meant:

Trouble...with a capital T.
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