I picture him in a shadowy room, stretched out in a plush leather chair with a cup of steaming coffee on the table next to him. His hands are steepled at his mouth as he studies in meditative silence the bank of muted screens before him. Flickering across those screens are pundits, press conferences, and live reports from war correspondents. He killed the sound a minute before. He doesn’t need to hear the words. He understands the message all too well.