Spy Dance

by Allan Topol

  “I have reason to believe,” he told the major, selecting his words carefully “that there was a breach of security on my recent visit on September 24 in Riyadh. Someone may have planted a listening device in General Foreman’s office. I want you to find out who it was.”

  “Yes sir,” the major snapped. “When do you need the information?”

  “An hour ago. And I want you to regard all of this as highly confidential. Nobody, including General Foreman, is to be told anything unless I personally authorize it. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Two hours later, General Chambers was back in his office, standing at the window, staring at the nearly empty Pentagon parking lot, and thinking about who the traitor could have been. He quickly rejected General Foreman, who had only recently been transferred from Germany. His focus turned to General Mac McCallister, the base commander at Dhahran. McCallister had been in Saudi Arabia five years ago, and Chambers always believed Mac had sided with Greg Nielsen, although Mac never had the guts to come out and say it to his face. More recently, Chambers felt Mac was part of a cabal of generals who were resentful of the power he had as chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Mac could easily have gotten access to General Foreman’s office and planted the bug.

  Suddenly, General Chambers’ telephone rang. It was Major Corbin. “I have one thing to report, sir.”

  “What’s that?” Chambers asked, holding his breath.

  “I just learned from Sergeant Prescott, who was on duty the night before your visit, that at approximately 2345, William Fox, the CIA section chief, entered the building through the front door to do a security check that was never authorized by me. I don’t know if—”

  Chambers interrupted him. “Thank you for your help, Major. Now it seems as if I was given incorrect information. Apparently, there was not a breach of security.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, sir.”

  “And I trust that you’ll keep our little discussion today to yourself?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  When he hung up the phone, Chambers mused aloud, “Fox. That little prick Fox did it.” Fox had been close with Nielsen five years ago. He was vulnerable personally right now. Nielsen could have used him.

  Chambers was relieved. McCallister would have been difficult to deal with. On the other hand, he could easily crush that little turd Fox, and in an instant he knew exactly how to do it.

  Chambers’ next call was to Fox.

  It was almost five in the morning in Riyadh when the phone rang, and Fox stopped tossing and turning in bed to answer it. “Fox here,” he said in a groggy voice.

  Then Chambers replied in a voice as cold as steel: “This is General Chambers. Now, you listen up, mister. You’re going to do what I order you to do right now, or else I’ll tell the Saudi authorities about you and your loving princess, Jameelah.”

  * * *

  Wanting to have as much information as possible for the next day’s showdown with General Chambers, Margaret Joyner rode out to the Hilltop to have dinner with David and Sagit and to brief them about what had happened this afternoon. As the driver of her car focused hard on the narrow, winding country roads, Joyner closed her eyes in the backseat trying to guess what Chambers would do. Then it struck her. Bill Fox!

  She had forgotten that Fox had been Greg Nielsen’s assistant. He must have helped Nielsen get the tape. That conclusion sent a chill up her spine. Damn, she thought, suddenly feeling a personal measure of responsibility for the drama that was unfolding. She had heard unconfirmed reports that Fox’s personal life was in a shambles with the breakup of his marriage, but she hadn’t authorized a confidential investigation of Fox because she believed that loyal longtime CIA agents were entitled to a measure of privacy. That viewpoint of hers had been sneered at by top Company officials, and now she was beginning to realize that however good her motivation, she shouldn’t have left an agent in the field whose personal situation might make him vulnerable to manipulation by someone like Greg Nielsen. But it would have made Fox subject to manipulation by General Chambers as well. She wasn’t getting a good feeling about where this was headed. Using Bill Fox wasn’t your best move of all time, David, she thought somberly.

  Margaret Joyner waited until dinner was over, after David had drunk some wine, to tell him the result of her deduction. The three of them were seated in front of a roaring fire. While Joyner and David were drinking cognac, Sagit sipped her third cup of coffee. She figured that after the report Joyner had given her and David of her meetings with the President, the attorney general and Chambers, she would never sleep tonight in any event.

  The CIA Director looked squarely at David and said, “I’m not asking you to confirm that it was Bill Fox who helped you. If you promised him confidentiality, then you can keep it. But I want you to know that I figured it out. I don’t care what you say.”

  “So why are you telling me this?” David responded testily.

  “Because if I figured it out, I suspect General Chambers has as well. And because Fox has some personal problems, which you may or may not know about, he may prove to be an undependable ally.”

  “I know all about Fox’s personal problems,” David snapped back, “but desperate times require desperate measures. He was the only game in town. And as for Chambers figuring out it was Fox, so what? The tape is the evidence. It speaks for itself. What difference does it make who planted the bug?”

  “I think you’re underestimating General Chambers. I hope to hell I’m wrong, but Chambers plays to win, regardless of the consequences.”

  “I know that all too well.”

  The CIA chief and David were staring at each other. Neither of them saw Sagit purse her lips, look down at her hands and shake her head sadly.

  * * *

  General Chambers arrived ten minutes late for the meeting with Simpson and Joyner. In his hand he held a thin brown briefcase. His entire demeanor manifested righteousness. He was aggrieved. He wanted vindication.

  “Coffee?” Attorney General Simpson asked.

  “I prefer to get down to business, Ed. Serious accusations have been leveled against me. I want to clear my name.”

  Simpson put down his china cup, moved over a yellow legal pad and picked up a pen. “Very well then, we’ll begin,” he said in his inquiring jurist’s voice. “Margaret, have you asked CIA technical officials whether the tape could be a fabrication?”

  “Their answer is that it’s possible but extremely unlikely” Se sounded tentative and uncertain.

  Simpson turned to General Chambers. “What about the DIA experts?”

  “Ditto. They tell me that it’s technically possible.” There was nothing tentative or uncertain in the general’s voice. He sounded victorious, while trying not to gloat because that would put off the attorney general.

  “So where’s that leave us?”

  “Fortunately, you don’t have to resolve that issue,” Chambers said self-confidently. “We know for certain that this tape’s a phony.”

  They both looked at him with startled expressions.

  “Why do you say that?” Simpson asked.

  Instead of responding, Chambers reached into his briefcase and pulled out a document. As he handed copies to Simpson and Joyner, he had the look of a blackjack player holding an ace and a king.

  “This affidavit was faxed to me this morning,” Chambers said.

  While they read, he sat in silence, watching with a smug expression on his face.

  I, William Fox, do hereby swear that the following statement is true and accurate:

  On September 22, Greg Nielsen called me from Dubai and asked me to meet him at the Hotel Jebel Ali in Dubai on the following day. I agreed to do so.

  When we met in Dubai, Nielsen told me that he wanted to repay General Chambers for what had happened five years ago. He had learned that I had committed an indiscretion with a young married Saudi princess, whom I love, and he threatened to disclose this relationship to the husband of
the princess unless I helped him in his effort to gain revenge against General Chambers.

  Specifically, he asked me to create a taped conversation between General Chambers and Colonel Khalid following a script which he handed to me. Then I was told to destroy the script. Reluctantly, I did exactly what he asked, and the tape I created is the one he brought to Washington. The taped conversation is a complete phony.

  I regret my role in this matter. I am prepared to resign from the CIA and to accept my punishment. Mrs. Joyner, I beg your forgiveness.

  Signed and sworn before me this 26th day of September.

  Gladys Keller, Notary.

  Joyner finished reading and shook her head in disbelief. Dammit, she should have ordered an investigation of Fox’s life when she heard about his marital problems. She would have learned about the Saudi princess and pulled him out of there. But she was fairly certain that the affidavit was the phony, not the tape. How could she ever prove it?

  Grasping at straws, she said, “Let’s get Bill Fox on the speaker phone.”

  Simpson was leaning back in his chair, tugging on his blue polka-dot suspenders and trying to decide what to do about this legal and political quagmire. He was quick to jump on Joyner’s suggestion. “An excellent idea, Margaret.”

  It was the end of the afternoon in Saudi Arabia. In his office, Fox was waiting for the call that General Chambers had told him would almost certainly come from Attorney General Simpson once Chambers turned over the affidavit.

  Fox first heard Mrs. Joyner’s voice, “Bill, this is Margaret Joyner. I’m on a speaker phone in Washington with Attorney General Simpson and General Chambers.”

  Simpson broke in. It was his investigation and he would question the witness. “Mr. Fox, this is the attorney general of the United States. Are you alone there?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “I want to know, did you prepare and fax an affidavit to General Chambers this morning?” the AG asked crisply.

  There was a long pause.

  “Well, Mr. Fox, did you hear the question?”

  “Yes, sir, I did,” Fox responded in a trembling voice.

  “You did what?”

  “What you said... I typed up an affidavit.”

  “And you signed it in front of a notary?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Her name was Gladys Keller?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you aware that it’s a crime of perjury if any statement in that affidavit is false?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going to ask my secretary to read a document to you. Then I’m going to ask you whether that’s the affidavit you prepared and signed. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  When his secretary finished reading the affidavit, Simpson asked Fox if that was the affidavit he prepared. In response, there was a barely audible grunt.

  “You’ll have to speak up, Mr. Fox,” Simpson said.

  “Yes, sir, that’s my affidavit,” he replied in a halting voice.

  “And you admit to preparing a fabricated tape of a conversation between General Chambers and a Colonel Khalid of the Saudi Arabia air force?”

  “Yes, sir. I did that.”

  “Why did you prepare the tape, Mr. Fox?”

  “Like I said in the affidavit, Greg Nielsen blackmailed me on account of this Saudi princess.”

  “Then why did you admit preparing the tape in the affidavit?”

  “Because when I spoke to General Chambers, I realized that preparing this tape was wrong. I’m willing to accept my punishment.”

  “Where did you do the work preparing the tape?”

  “Mrs. Joyner, am I allowed to answer?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “The CIA has a sophisticated lab here in Saudi Arabia. As Mrs. Joyner knows, I’ve worked a lot with sound and other technical equipment. I’ve gotten training from people in Langley. It’s not that difficult if you have a sample of the recorded voices of each of the participants. It’s not like you splice words together anymore. That’s how we used to do it in the old days. Now we have this fantastic new machine that Voice Com, a company in Silicon Valley, built for the Agency. It’s called a Scrambler. All you have to do is enter a sample of the voice of each speaker into a computer with a numerical code, and then you type in the text that you want, designating each speaker by number in a script format. The machine does the rest.”

  “How did you get a sample of each speaker’s voice?”

  “I had a meeting with General Chambers before his meeting with Colonel Khalid on September 24. I wore a wristwatch which is also a recording device. Then when I met with Colonel Khalid later that day, I did the same thing.”

  Fox’s voice sounded pitiful and pathetic, but also credible. As Margaret Joyner listened to him, something strange happened. She suddenly found herself becoming confused. Was Fox now telling the truth? Had Greg Nielsen tried to dupe her with a phony tape he had asked Fox to prepare? Had he persuaded Sagit to go along with him? Or maybe the Israelis had their own reasons for wanting to destroy Chambers, or for wanting to influence U.S. policy in Saudi Arabia.

  The attorney general said: “You realize, Mr. Fox, that what you did is cause for dismissal from the Agency, and that you could be charged with a crime.”

  “Yes, sir, I know that. I was hoping that by being honest now you wouldn’t be so hard on me.”

  “That’s not a decision for me to make. That’s something that will have to be decided by Tom Roche, the general counsel of the CIA. I imagine you’ll be hearing from him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The AG looked at Joyner and Chambers. “You two have anything to add?”

  “Nothing,” they replied in unison.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fox,” Simpson said and clicked off the phone.

  He turned to Joyner. “Does the Agency have that kind of voice Scrambler machine in Saudi Arabia from Voice Com, and does it work as Fox said?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to make a call to Langley.”

  “Why don’t you do that? You can use a phone in the outer office.”

  When Joyner called Yoshi Ueno, in the agency’s lab at Langley, the sound expert confirmed everything Fox had said about the Scrambler. By now Joyner found herself becoming convinced of the truth of what Fox had just said. On the other hand, she couldn’t believe that Sagit was a part of this scheme. If she was, Joyner would raise hell with Moshe, no matter how much she liked Sagit, and she’d make sure the President personally called the Israeli prime minister.

  She dialed the number of Sagit’s cell phone.

  “Are you alone?” Joyner asked curtly.

  “David’s out running. I’m at the Hilltop drinking coffee.”

  “What happened when David met with Bill Fox in Dubai?”

  Sagit was alarmed. Margaret’s question could only mean that her dire prediction about General Chambers last night after dinner had come true. “I don’t know. He wanted to have the meeting himself. Just the two of them. I didn’t argue. I thought that made the most sense. So they were outside, on the beach, and then in the patio dining room.” She paused for an instant, trying to frame her answer carefully, trying to select the right words in English. She wanted to do everything she could to help David, and yet she still had her responsibilities to Moshe and the Mossad. “I stayed in the room or in the lobby of the hotel, watching them and the surrounding area for anything suspicious. But I never heard what they said. And I never spoke to Bill Fox. I saw him only briefly before and after his conversation with David.”

  “Afterwards, what did David tell you about his discussion with Fox?”

  Sagit flinched. Joyner’s tone was sharp, sounding like a prosecuting attorney. No longer like a personal friend.

  “David said that Fox agreed to tape the conversation between Chambers and Khalid, which would take place on the following day.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  Sagit hesitated. “Abs
olutely. I had no reason not to. But why is this significant?”

  “I don’t know yet. Ed Simpson is still conducting his inquiry. Things are moving slowly, as they always do in Washington. I hope to have this wrapped up by the end of the afternoon. There’s no need for worry on your part.”

  Joyner hung up the phone and stared at it for several moments. She believed Sagit, whom she had gotten to know and like. David was a different matter. Last night, after dinner at the Hilltop, she had returned to Langley and read everything in the Greg Nielsen personnel file. In many ways it wasn’t flattering. On the one hand, he was described as hardworking, dedicated, a real patriot, deeply concerned about the welfare of the country, and often having brilliant insights as an intelligence agent. On the other hand, he had never been a team player. In Iran, he had acted alone in an unsuccessful effort to influence the Shah to deal with the fundamentalists, contrary to Agency policy. In Saudi Arabia, again contrary to Agency policy, he had encouraged Colonel Azziz and his supporters who were opposed to the royal family. “Impulsive,” “hotheaded” and “stubborn” were terms that cropped up repeatedly in his annual personnel reviews.

  Still, Bill Fox had to be an emotional wreck, without any sense of judgment, if he was actually having an affair with a married Saudi princess, as he admitted in the affidavit. As soon as she spoke to her deputy in charge of personnel, Fox would be brought home on the first plane out unless he refused to leave, which was possible at this point, because anything was possible with Fox. A married Saudi princess? Oh, c’mon. Nobody could be that stupid. So she asked herself again, Who was telling the truth? David? Or Bill Fox?

  Deeply troubled, she walked slowly back into the attorney general’s office and sat down at the conference room table, pondering that question all the way.

  “We have that sound equipment,” she reported somberly to Simpson and Chambers, “the Scrambler that Fox described.”