Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

11. Downing Street Memo

March 22, 2003

Columbia Heights

Washington, D.C., United States

I caught a glimpse of my eyes in the rearview mirror—bloodshot as usual. I reached up to adjust it higher.

On March 20, 2003, the US invaded Iraq for the second time in as many decades.

It didn't bring me the relief that I expected. If anything, I felt nothing.

So it was as I drove England home from the airport. It was a cold yet sunny day, and the muddy snow banks on either side of the road melted gleaming streams across the pavement. It went unsaid that his last-minute visit coincided with the invasion, but he hadn't yet mentioned it.

"I have a, um...a handwritten letter for you," England said from the passenger's seat. "From France."

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Oh, good. We can start a fire with it."

He didn't respond to that, perhaps wisely.

As England showered, I applied some eye makeup in the steamy bathroom. It felt like an eternity since he last stayed at my condo, but it had only been a year and a half. Though he couldn't control our physical distance, the emotional distance between us was my fault alone. Regret crept through me.

"What do you want to do for dinner?" I asked.

"It's up to you," he called. "I brought that curry powder from Bristol that you like."

I felt my lips attempt to smile.

In the bedroom, I hauled his heavy duffle bag onto the bed to search for the bottle of curry powder. I found it quickly. "I'm surprised you got this through..."

As I tugged it free, a large Manila envelope came out with it. "MI6" was printed on the front.

"...airport security."

"Hm?"

I turned my back to the bathroom as I opened the envelope. Only a pinch of documents lay inside. Large letters filled the header of the first page.

SECRET AND STRICTLY PERSONAL - UK EYES ONLY

I began reading frantically. The memo contained the minutes of a cabinet meeting at Downing Street from July 23, 2002. It described a classified meeting between the MI6 chief and the FBI director in Washington that I had never heard about. They discussed the USA's intention to invade Iraq for the sole purpose of overthrowing Saddam's regime, unrelated to Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda. They discussed the assumption that the UK would take part. They discussed the Bush administration's plan to justify the invasion using faulty intelligence from the FBI about WMDs, also known as...

"Weapons of mass destruction," I whispered.

As I read through the memo again and again, I didn't hear the shower turn off. I didn't even notice England's presence until the fresh smell of soap registered in my brain.

"I can't tell you how much I've missed you."

Warm hands appeared on my waist. When he leaned down to kiss my shoulder, he froze. Slowly, his hand took the stack of papers from me.

"I'd hoped...to wait on this."

I closed my eyes as I heard him slide the documents home. Betrayal throbbed deep within me. "When did you..."

"Tuesday."

I sealed my lips. So this is why he came.

"It must be Iraqi propaganda."