by Allan Topol
Ralph Laurence chaired the NSG, and he put Joyner at the top of the agenda. As she reported on her meeting with Sagit and gave her recommendation for immunity for Greg Nielsen, she watched General Chambers, seated at the other end of the polished wooden table, in his immaculate, heavily starched and metal-laden brown uniform. The general was listening to every word and tapping his fingers on the table.
She glanced over at Frost. The secretary of state wasn’t hard to read. He was looking at Chambers, prepared to take his cue from the general.
When she was finished, she said, “Well, what do you think, gentlemen?”
Chambers spoke first. His tone was even, cold and analytical. “With all due respect, Margaret, I don’t think we should reward this renegade with immunity. My own recommendation is that we get Ed Simpson at Justice on the phone right now. Tell him to prepare extradition papers for Nielsen ASAP. And if the Israelis don’t cough him up, we suspend all aid until they do.”
“I’m on board with that as well,” Frost said.
She turned to Laurence and Hayes. “What do you two think?”
One at a time they fell in behind Joyner’s proposal while Chambers scowled. He realized she had lined them up ahead of time. He and Frost were outnumbered three to two. More important, he couldn’t be sure how Harry Waltham would decide the question in this face-off between him and Joyner. He knew that Joyner enjoyed a close relationship with Harry as well, and the President particularly listened to her on political matters. With the election so close, if she inserted political considerations, he might very well lose.
So, he decided to resort to a strategy he had used effectively in Vietnam. If you’re not certain you can win a battle, withdraw. Let the enemy think that you’re vanquished, when in fact you’re regrouping at another locale where the terrain is more favorable, and you’ll have the element of surprise. He’d set a trap to catch Nielsen on another day. Chambers would beat him, even playing by Joyner’s rules. He rubbed his right hand over his jawline. It was five years since Nielsen had broken it, and he could still feel it every day of his life. Well, now he would have a chance for revenge.
“My dear Margaret,” he said in a patronizing voice, “in the spirit of harmony, I’m prepared to go along with the majority here. However, I think that when Ed Simpson has his people at Justice draw up the immunity papers for Nielsen, they should make it explicit that if Nielsen’s not fully cooperating, and I mean fully and openly at all times, in this business, then the immunity is off, and we’ll move immediately to arrest him.”
Hayes added, “It’s what we lawyers call a condition subsequent.”
“Call it whatever you want,” Chambers said. “It becomes a critical part of the deal. And everyone in this room should agree in writing that Ed Simpson will be the judge as to whether or not Nielsen is giving us that full and open cooperation.”
“Your conditions are fair enough,” Joyner replied, happy she didn’t need the President to resolve a bitter dispute. After all, she had to work with General Chambers on lots of other matters.
For his part, the General was satisfied as well. He was confident that they had just given Nielsen the rope with which to hang himself.
* * *
The Cosmos Club has a rule against papers in the dining room. So when Sagit entered the marble-floored foyer, with the grand sweeping staircase that went to the second floor, Margaret led her along a corridor lined with pictures of members who had been Nobel and Pulitzer Prize winners, to a deserted reading room at the end.
When they were seated, the CIA Chief reached into her briefcase and handed Sagit the immunity paper Attorney General Simpson had prepared. Then she recounted her battle with General Chambers. “I just hope Greg Nielsen doesn’t let us down. For his own sake as well as ours.”
“Well, now he has the incentive to work with us.”
“I hope so. I went out on a very long limb for this deal.”
Joyner’s words sent a chill down Sagit’s spine. Moshe had used exactly the same phrase, telling Sagit she had gone out on a long limb for David. The stakes had just increased. She hoped she wouldn’t look like a fool. Sagit asked, “What do we do about communicating as this goes forward?”
“You and I will be the sole contacts between our governments. This matter gets the top security clearance. ‘Need to know’ only. Copies of documents are to be numbered and tracked. Nobody goes to the French government or Saudis unless President Waltham gives the order.”
Sagit could barely conceal the relief she felt at hearing Joyner’s report. “Now let’s go eat,” Joyner said, “I’m starving.”
In the dining room, after Joyner wrote out their dinner order for a waiter, who had just deposited a basket of hot popovers, Sagit said, “You told me this morning that you were chairman of the Senate committee that investigated the Dhahran incident five years ago?” Joyner nodded. “What do you think really happened, Margaret?”
Joyner closed her eyes, and fiddled with her glasses, trying to remember what she had decided five years ago. “Well, it was a little ambiguous, but I had two primary conclusions. And, as I recall, most of the other committee members agreed with me. First, the moderates Nielsen was working with, led by air force Colonel Azziz, had nothing to do with the attack on the American housing complex. It was the work of radical fundamentalists, planned and executed by a Hezbollah cell organized by Iran. If Nielsen hadn’t struck Chambers and run away, I doubt if he would ever have been charged with responsibility for the attack. The American government never washes its intelligence linen in public if it can avoid it. But even if he had been charged, my guess is that Nielsen would have been exonerated.”
“But would he have gotten a fair trial?”
Sagit’s comment rankled Joyner. “My committee would have seen to it, and the CIA director at the time had enough clout with the White House to ensure it. Besides, Nielsen actually warned Chambers about the likelihood of an attack a week earlier, and Chambers didn’t do anything to beef up security. So Chambers would have had egg on his face if Nielsen had gone to trial. As it was, with his jaw broken and Nielsen on the run like a guilty man and renegade agent, the Pentagon was able to get away with a whitewash report clearing Chambers of any blame.”
“So, in retrospect, Nielsen was foolish to have struck Chambers?”
“That’s how it looked to me at the time of my committee’s investigation, but of course hindsight’s always twenty-twenty.”
Sagit looked at her glumly. “So having acted rashly, Nielsen took on the mark of Cain and became a pariah, even though he was right. And Chambers became the sympathetic injured war hero.”
Joyner thought that summary was biased toward Nielsen, but she decided not to argue with Sagit. She was beginning to understand that there was a personal factor involved. “That’s about it.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“So what else is new?”
Joyner paused while the waiter deposited their salads. Then she asked, “You care for this guy on a personal level, don’t you?”
Sagit blushed. “How do you know?”
“From the way you sound.”
Sagit clasped her hands together and moved them nervously. “I guess you’re going to tell me that’s unprofessional under the circumstances.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything of the sort. I’m not your mother, and you’re a big girl. Besides, people always do what they want to where matters of the heart are involved.” She paused, narrowed her eyes and gave Sagit a sharp look. “What I will tell you is to advise Nielsen or David, or whatever you call him, to watch his step. Chambers gave in too quickly today. My guess is that he’s going to set a trap.”
* * *
David finished reading the two conditional immunity papers—one from each government—that Sagit had handed him. They were alone in his office in the High-Tech Center at the kibbutz, and the door was closed. When he had first seen her walk into the building, from his window, he was certain t
hat she had come with state security people, waiting at the kibbutz entrance to arrest him. Now a smile of relief appeared on his face.
He put the documents down on his computer table, looked squarely at her and uttered in a soft voice, “Thank you. I underestimated you. I feel as if I’ve gotten my life back, and I won’t forget this. I promise you that.”
“Before you get overcome with joy and gratitude, let’s go over the deal one more time, so there’s no misunderstanding. We want two items of information from you. We want to know who the Saudi ringleader of the coup is, and we want to know why Madame Blanc’s not worried about the possibility of American intervention on the side of the king. Do you understand that?” she asked, sounding like a schoolteacher.
He nodded.
“Second, you’d better reread the condition requiring full cooperation.”
“I know what it says.”
“Read it again,” she snapped, irritable and tired from two very long plane rides in less than three days. As he reread the document, she said, “It means working with us fully and openly. No more Lone Ranger stuff, as you Americans say.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said blithely.
“We’re not kidding, David. General Chambers can’t wait for you to slip up so you’ll lose your immunity, and Margaret told me that their attorney general, this Ed Simpson, is a stickler for compliance.”
His voice took on a tougher edge. “You’re coming through loud and clear. I’ll think about it on the flight to Paris tomorrow.”
She was startled. “Paris?”
David reached into his desk drawer and handed her a fax that had arrived hours earlier.
Monsieur David Ben Aaron.
Your customer’s computer parts will be in Paris on Monday. Plan to start work Tuesday morning. A room has been reserved for you at the Bristol Monday evening.
–V.
Sagit said, “Victor came through with what you wanted.”
“You sound surprised.”
His self-confidence bordering on arrogance, annoyed her. “Pretty smug, aren’t you?”
“He had to do it. Madame Blanc gave him an order.”
“I’m going with you to Paris.”
He shook his head from side to side. “Uh-huh. A very bad idea. It could get me killed and wipe out all of your good work getting me the immunity.”
“We’ll take our chances on that.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Look, David, these people are serious professionals. You can’t operate solo. We’ll be very careful. You won’t even know that we’re there, and we won’t set up any surveillance. I’ll be holed up in a small hotel on rue Cambon. From Paris I’ll be in a better position to direct our efforts to find Daphna.”
“What have you learned so far?”
“Zero. We still haven’t located the property near Grasse.”
“You’ve got to do better,” David said, raising his voice. “We have to get Daphna out of there.”
Sagit thumped the desk with her fist. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. You worry about your own assignments. I’ll give you the number of my cell phone. Call me in Paris if you need anything.”
* * *
The next morning, when Sagit drove west from Jerusalem to make the plane to Paris, Moshe’s lecture from last night was still ringing in her ears: “I don’t want a repetition of the Marseilles affair when we accidentally killed two bystanders in that ridiculous shoot-out on the docks, or France will cut off diplomatic relations. Is that clear?”
“Very clear, Moshe.”
“That means you don’t use a gun under any circumstances, and you don’t get arrested. Even if you find Daphna. Is that understood?”
She nodded.
“Say ‘Understood.’”
“Understood.”
Chapter 12
“I’m honored by your personal presence,” David said to Victor as Rolland eased the car into the heavy morning rush hour traffic along rue St. Honore. Before responding, Victor pushed a button and a thick glass partition slid up behind the front seat, isolating the driver from their conversation.
“Since you managed to ingratiate yourself so well with Madame Blanc, she wanted me to provide a little extra service.”
“I tried to be as charming as possible on the boat at St. Tropez. I’m happy to hear that I succeeded.”
“The truth is that she found you an awful bore personally. It’s what you told her about the Saudi royal family’s capability to blow up their own oil fields that got her attention.”
“No doubt she checked with your friends in Saudi Arabia, and she found out I was right.”
“And that’s damn lucky for you.”
David could barely restrain the smile that wanted to break out on his face. Now that Madame Blanc had gotten an independent verification of what he had told her, he must have gained a substantial measure of her trust, which had to be pissing off Victor to no end. He decided to push Victor for more information.
“I’ll bet she raised hell with your Saudi partner about why he withheld that information.”
“Frankly, they didn’t know about it. They had to dig to confirm what you said. So anyhow, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”
“Now that we have to be together, maybe we’ll be like Tevye and his wife in Fiddler on the Roof. We’ll learn to love each other.”
David cracked a smile, feigning amusement at the Frenchman’s paranoia. “I doubt that. What’s your game? I’ll find out sooner or later. You know that, and then I’ll break you.”
“There’s nothing to find out.”
“Bullshit. The CIA’s pulling your strings. Maybe the Mossad as well. Eventually, the truth will come out.”
“And here I thought you were so hostile to me because you didn’t like Jews.”
Victor sneered. “I don’t, but you’re not a Jew. The fact is that I’ll enjoy giving the order for your execution when you make a slip and blow your cover.”
“You don’t believe in mincing words, do you?”
“Why should I? We had a good thing going here before you came along. I don’t like the idea of your screwing it up.”
David sneered. “Oh you had a wonderful thing. You had the right to pump oil out of oil fields that would be on fire for months and damaged for years. You’re the one who’s lucky that didn’t happen. Madame Blanc strikes me as the type who lashes out at her subordinates when there’s a royal fuck-up. You’d have been at the top of her list. Not to mention your Saudi connection. And who was that again?”
The lawyer grunted, “Sorry, you’re not that much of a partner.”
“Eventually I’ll have to know who it is.”
Victor stared out of the window, self-consciously touching his toupee to make certain it was in place, and trying to decide how much information he should give David. “You’ll find out on October 8 along with the rest of the world. That’s the day we’re putting you on a plane to Saudi Arabia to help us straighten out their oil industry, assuming that you haven’t blown your cover before then, which I think is damn unlikely.”
They were leaving Paris and heading north on the A1. David straightened his jacket to conceal the holstered Beretta he’d picked up last evening at the Hotel Gironde. With Madame Blanc’s report on him in the blue folder, quite a few people now knew about his assistance to the Shah. Any one of them could leak that information to Iranian security agents, who regularly worked the major European capitals.
David said, “Can I ask where we’re going?”
“PDF headquarters. Madame Blanc thought it safer if you worked there.”
“Did they get everything I need?”
Victor shot David a nasty look. “Not they. I had to deliver it myself.”
“Well, I sure appreciate that.”
“Yeah, I’ve got nothing better to do than fly off to London to run errands for you.”
David wanted to ask, “Why London?” but he didn’t want to encourage Victor in his susp
icions by asking too many questions. Besides, he had a pretty good idea of the answer. Madame Blanc was trying to minimize French contacts whenever possible. Kourosh had been flown to Rome initially. No doubt a Saudi emissary had personally flown the computer discs to London, where they had been handed off to Victor.
Having concluded he had gotten as much information as he could from the French lawyer, David turned away and looked at the French countryside. As far as he was concerned, they could ride in silence the rest of the way.
* * *
Dora, the director of the children’s program at kibbutz Bet Mordechai, happened to be in the administration office when a telephone call came in for David Ben Aaron. Nobody had told her that he had gone to Paris. So she transferred the call to the High-Tech Center, thinking that he would be at work there.
Batya answered it on the front desk, as she did all outside calls.
“Hello,” she snapped, annoyed that she had been disturbed in the midst of cramming for an exam she would be taking at the Technion next week, for a degree in advanced mathematics.
“I want to speak with David Ben Aaron,” a man’s voice said in French.
Batya had studied French in school and spent a summer as a teenager in Dijon as an exchange student. “Who’s calling, please?”
“I’m calling from Paris, from a large French steel company. We’ve heard about your computer developments, and we want to talk to David Ben Aaron as soon as possible. This could be a very large order for your kibbutz.”
Batya perked up. With one more large order, they could get both a new swimming pool and a new dining hall.