Spy Dance

by Allan Topol

  “Something like that.”

  “Today the message wasn’t necessary. You see, David, I realized yesterday that I was underestimating you.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “When you almost succeeded in executing your stepdaughter’s escape from Paris.”

  He tensed, looking sternly at her. “I want Daphna released. She has nothing to do with this.”

  She waved her hand in the air, dismissing his words. “We’ll talk about Daphna later. I have no reason to harm her. At this moment, she’s quite comfortable and quite safe.”

  Madame Blanc signaled to the women waiting to serve. One spooned a cold Ligurian seafood salad, loaded with calamari, shrimp and mussels, from a blue china serving dish. Then she passed a basket of warm French bread. The other woman removed a bottle of white burgundy from an ice bucket, uncorked it and poured a little for Madame Blanc. She tasted it and smiled.

  “It’s Corton Charlemagne by Latour, 1989,” she said. “I figured since I had a wine connoisseur coming for lunch, I should treat him well.”

  “A wine connoisseur?”

  “But of course. Dick Holliday taught you well when you spent the year at Spartan Oil in Houston before the CIA decided to send you to the Middle East, and Bruno Wolk completed your education.”

  For several minutes they ate in silence. He tried not to appear too anxious. He would wait for her to take the initiative. For her part, she wanted him to absorb what he had heard so far.

  Finally, she paused to sip some wine. Then she picked up a blue folder resting at her feet and put it on the table. “I’m amazed at what a colorful life you’ve had. I think I’ve got it all now—from your football injury and father’s death in Aliquippa, Pennsylvania.”

  “Surely you can sympathize with a child having a bunch of thugs kill a parent.”

  She continued without bothering to acknowledge him and he wondered if she’d buried those events from the Nazi occupation long ago in the deepest recesses of her mind.

  “I also know that you’re near the top of the hit list in Tehran for aiding the escape of the Shah.”

  “Just trying to do my job.”

  “For which, the Shah’s great friend Bruno Wolk, became your eternal benefactor.”

  He maintained the same brittle smile. “Friendship is a wonderful thing.”

  “The doctor he found to do the plastic surgery did a magnificent job.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “It’s too bad he didn’t do anything about your teeth or your limp.”

  “Not the province of a plastic surgeon, I’m afraid.”

  “True enough.” She paused to study David. “Dr. Wilhelm did such a good job on you that I might even go to see him myself. Maybe he can do something about these lines,” she said, pointing at her face.

  He sat in silence waiting for her to continue.

  She was staring at him, shaking her head up and down with a tiny smile at the edge of her lips that showed amusement and some grudging admiration. He wasn’t like anyone she had ever met. “You’re an interesting man, David Ben Aaron or Greg Nielsen. Which do you prefer?”

  “You can call me David.”

  “All right, David, but who owns you now?”

  “Nobody,” he said emphatically. “I’m my own person.”

  She didn’t try to conceal the incredulity that showed on her face. No one was his own person. “Victor is sure it’s the CIA as well as the Mossad. He thinks I’m crazy to have anything to do with you.”

  “So why didn’t you listen to your trusted adviser? Why did you agree to meet with me? What could I possibly contribute to someone so well connected throughout the world?”

  “Now you want to talk about me? That’s not such an interesting subject.”

  David was anxious for her to get to the point, already. “I’m tired of talking about myself. I want to know what you want with me.”

  She stood up. “For that discussion we’ll have to go up on the deck and into the sun. It’s turned quite warm today. I think I’ll change into a bathing suit.”

  “I didn’t bring one, I’m afraid.”

  She gave a bored smile. “No need to be unduly modest. I know what a man looks like. You all think your stuff is special, but no offense, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. However, the girls are shy. For their sake, I’ll take them out while you undress here. You can just leave all of your clothes in this room,” she said.

  “I think I’ll do without the sun and remain dressed.”

  She stared at him with eyes like lasers in a cold unemotional face, and spoke in a voice that exuded dominance and control. “Sorry, that’s not an option, David. I want to be able to have a very thorough and frank discussion with you, and it’s degrading to have someone search a luncheon guest to see if he’s wearing a wire. Don’t you think so?”

  She was smart, just as Jean-Pierre had said. He had to give her that. If she wasn’t such a monster, he might even admire her intelligence and cunning.

  The guard would be watching him the whole time he undressed, and would afterward search David’s clothes. If he was wearing a wire, he’d have no way of disposing of it or concealing it. A wire would mean Victor was right about him working for the CIA or the Mossad. He had no doubt about the result then. After an unpleasant afternoon of torture, they’d shoot him and toss him into the sea.

  Madame Blanc rose from the table and started toward the ladder. “Oh, and leave your wristwatch down here as well,” she added.

  * * *

  When he got up on the deck, buck naked, she was sitting in her straight back wooden chair, dressed in a skimpy violet Versace bikini, sipping an espresso and smoking a Cohiba.

  “A great gift,” she said. “Thanks.”

  She tossed him one. He picked up the sterling silver lighter on the table and lit it. Then he sat down across from her, in the deck chair next to the other cup of espresso and crossed his legs. On the upper deck of the boat, he could see three guards. He guessed that the fourth was searching his clothes.

  “I don’t know why you insisted on seeing me,” she said, staring at his crotch to intimidate him. “The deal Victor offered you was simple enough. You developed the defense system for the Saudi royal palace. We want you to describe it for us and tell us how it can be neutralized. If you had simply acquiesced when Victor first asked, we would have left you alone and we wouldn’t have taken Daphna hostage.” A bird of prey was circling overhead. She paused to finish her espresso while watching it plunge quickly into the water and catch a fish in its beak. Then she turned back to David. “If you don’t agree to cooperate now, I’ve got a number of options. I can have Victor let the American government know where Greg Nielsen is. We can detain you in France and tell security officials in Tehran where you are. Or we can kill Daphna and you both.”

  David shifted in his chair, trying to cover himself as much as possible by clasping his hands in his lap. It was bizarre being naked for this discussion. “Why is the information so important to you? I assume you’ve got Saudi troops on your side. So what if they lose a few more people in the attack?”

  “There are two answers to that question. First, I want to make sure the job gets done, and second my Saudi partner wants your help to cut his losses.”

  David was alert. Now he was getting somewhere. “Who is he?” he asked warily.

  “Sorry, I can’t answer that. Now, do we have a deal, or...” She picked up the cell phone resting on the table. “Or do I give an order to have someone kill Daphna for openers?” She stared at him. “Well, what’ll it be?”

  David replied, “The issue’s more complicated than you think.”

  “Tell me about it, then.”

  The sun was starting to drop in the sky. With the wind whipping off the water David felt chilly.

  “Can I put some clothes on now?” he asked. “Are you finished with this macho nonsense game of yours? I’m literally freezing my dick off.”

  She raised her right f
oot and gently nudged his genitals. “It does look shriveled.” She pulled a thick terry-cloth robe from a cabinet and tossed it to him. Then she put one on herself.

  “Tell me about it,” she repeated.

  “First of all, it’s true that I developed the defensive system for the king’s palace, and it was a sophisticated computerized system. But that was five years ago. It could easily have been changed since, or they could have tossed it out and installed a new one.”

  “I thought that, too, but when I asked, I was told it hasn’t been changed. How can we determine that for sure?”

  “I can tell you where in the palace we stored the computer disks describing the system. You’ll need someone to get those disks and fly them to France for me to work with.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “How long do I have?”

  For a few moments she stared at him in silence, unwilling to answer.

  “Look, Madame Blanc,” he finally said. “I’m not stupid. I figured out that you’re supporting a Saudi coup, obviously because of some kind of arrangement you’ll have for Saudi oil if it succeeds. I just need to know when you’re planning to strike.”

  “October 6,” she said reluctantly. “About three weeks from now.”

  He shook his head impressed with the answer. “A month before the American presidential election. A good choice. Well, anyhow, the answer to your question is that if you get me the computer disks, and if you turn me loose with a sophisticated PC at one of your offices, I should be able to get what you want in a couple of days. However, I have to tell you that you’re focusing on the wrong system. The palace defenses aren’t your biggest problem.”

  “Really?” She sounded skeptical. “Then what is?”

  If he was going to get Daphna and himself out of this alive, and achieve something in the process, he had to gain her confidence by dangling in front of her something she needed badly. He had only one card. He’d better play it now, while he still had the chance. “I also installed a high-tech system, computer-operated from either the royal palace or the Oil Ministry, which permits the Saudi king to set off explosions by remote control, which will cause major damage and fires at all of the most important oil fields in the country. The damage will be so widespread that it’ll be years before the oil fields are up and running again. The idea is to deprive hostile attackers of the use of the country’s oil for a very long time.”

  She put down her cigar and leaned forward in her chair, listening intently. It was obvious that he was telling her something new. “Are you bullshitting me?”

  “I wish I was. I didn’t want to install the system because of the environmental damage it would do, and because I couldn’t stand the idea of destroying so much of a depletable resource. But in those days the White House jumped whenever the Saudi king made a request, and the king was certain that the fundamentalists would be carrying out coup. He was determined to deny them the fruits of their victory.”

  “Do you think my Saudi partner knows about this?”

  He wanted to get some information about her partner. So he asked, “Is he in the Saudi military?”

  When she nodded, he continued, “Then probably not. The king never trusted the military. So he has his own forces, units of the National Guard, separate from the army and made up exclusively of Bedouins and desert people, that defend him and the palace. They would be the only ones who might know about this second system.”

  She leaned forward and tapped here forefinger on his chest, straight at his heart. “You better not be lying to me about this system to blow up the oil fields,” she said in a stone-cold voice.

  Feeling as if he had leveled the playing field, he grabbed her finger. “I’m not lying. I spent a year of my life setting it up. Why would I lie about it?” He let her finger go.

  “Could you deactivate it?”

  “Sure, if I had access to this set of computer disks.”

  “And do you know where those are?”

  “At least where they were five years ago.”

  “And you want me bring those to you as well. So you could work with them?”

  “If I wanted to.”

  She mulled over his words. “Here’s the deal, then,” she said. “You tell me how to deactivate both of these systems, and I won’t tell either Washington or Tehran about you. Of course, I’ll release the girl as well.”

  Without pausing to think, he shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “That deal’s not fair to me.”

  She laughed sardonically. “You don’t exactly have much bargaining power.”

  Now he pointed his finger at her. “Oh, quite the contrary. You can kill me, but nobody else can help you prevent the destruction of the oil fields. Without that help, the coup won’t give you the benefits that your Saudi partner promised. I’ll bet he agreed to give you a percentage of all Saudi oil revenue for the next several years, as well as a management and consulting contract to help them straighten out their fucked-up oil business. Am I right?”

  “You’re close.”

  “So without me you’ve got squat! Nothing. A big goose egg.”

  A hint of dismay was visible on her face. She had underestimated him. She wasn’t used to being put on the defensive, and she didn’t like it. “And what is it you want in return for your help?”

  David was improvising now. He suddenly saw the ultimate way to gain her confidence. “I want to be cut in. A piece of the action. I’m tired of running and hiding. Israel and the kibbutz are too small for me. I want some cash to build a house in Anguilla and live for myself while I still have a chance.”

  “How much is that?”

  “Ten million U.S. dollars should do it.” He gauged her reaction as he spoke. He didn’t want to overdo it. So far nothing. Just a cold, blank stare. “But in return for that I’ll not only give you the information you need about the automated systems to defend the palace and to destroy the oil fields, I’ll also recreate for you the CIA-developed plan to take over the Saudi oil fields. You can share it with your Saudi partner. It’ll increase his chances of success. We were constantly developing plans like that in those days. Of course, we never used any of this. It was our form of war games.”

  She pondered his words for several moments. “If I were to agree to your proposal,” she finally said, “I’d want you to go into Saudi Arabia right after the coup and stay about six months. Help my people get the oil business up and running.”

  David tried to restrain his excitement. This was what he wanted most—a chance to get back into the country, to kill Nasser. “That’s okay with me,” he said, “but we’ve still got one more big problem you’re overlooking.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The good old U.S. of A.” He said the words with contempt. “Washington will never sit back and let this coup happen.”

  “You don’t have to worry about the United States,” she replied firmly. “With all due respect, Madame Blanc, there may be Saudi military officers leading the coup, but the Saudi king will tell Washington that they’ve fundamentalists, that it’s Iran all over again, and they’ll go berserk in Washington. They’ve got all those troops stationed in the country and on aircraft carriers in or near the Persian Gulf at all times. Washington will order them to help the Saudi king put down the coup faster than you can say Charles De Gaulle. I know how it will go. I helped plan the potential response five years ago when we played out scenarios like this in Washington.”

  She lashed back. “But the American government will immediately be assured by the Saudi officers leading the coup that oil sales will continue uninterrupted after the change of government.”

  He paused to ponder her words. She wasn’t naïve or stupid. There was something she wasn’t telling him. He pressed ahead, determined to find out what it was. “That won’t be enough. That won’t do it in Washington, when the Saudi king is screaming for help and yelling it’s a fundamentalist revolution. You’ve got to understand how Washington—”

  She c
ut him off. “I said you don’t have to worry about Washington. It’s been dealt with.”

  “How?” he demanded.

  She scowled. “That’s not your problem. I told you Washington won’t intervene. I’m certain of it. So you can assume that.”

  “But it’s not a reasonable assumption.”

  She was clearly annoyed at his persistence. “Drop it,” she snapped. “Let’s concentrate on your role. How do you want to proceed on your part of the deal?”

  He decided to back off. He had gotten as much as he could from her. By continuing to press, he would jeopardize the deal he had made. “If you let me go downstairs, I’ll get dressed and get access to my briefcase, which your people have no doubt finished searching by now. I’ll make you a list of the computer disks for both systems that I need copied, and where they’re maintained. If you have your Saudi partner get them to Paris, say one week from today, I’ll show up at PDF headquarters. You give me a private room with access to a powerful PC, and I’ll go to work.”

  “And you’ll keep Victor informed about your progress?”

  “I don’t much like him.”

  She snarled. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  “Why can’t I report directly to you?”

  “I’m out of town a great deal. He’ll get me if you need me.”

  “What about my ten million?”

  “You’ll get two million up front, and two million at the beginning of each of the next five months.”

  He decided to push it, letting her know how much the deal meant to him. “I was thinking about five million up front.”

  “I’m sure you were, but two is all you’re getting. Besides, you’re not going to have time to spend a cent for the next six months, and if you stop performing...” she paused to toss her cigar butt into the darkening sea, “you can try to find the rest of my Cohiba at the bottom of the Mediterranean.”

  He reacted to her threat with a stony stare. He refused to be intimidated by her. “I figured as much. I’ll give you a numbered Swiss bank account where you can deposit the money. At the Union Bank in Geneva.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t like dealing with people who have numbered Swiss accounts.”