by Uzi Eilam
“Surprises can also occur in the financial realm,” Dominique said with a mischievous smile.
“You’re quite a surprise yourself,” Haim said, swept up in the moment. “And so is this meal. You certainly have opened my eyes tonight, Dominique. And I’m grateful.”
“The pleasure has been all mine.” She took care of the check with the head waiter. “Since we passed on the digestif, perhaps we should take advantage of the wine refrigerator in my room back at the hotel.”
“Sure. Why not?” said Haim with enthusiasm. “I have many more questions for you, Dominique, and many more answers to questions you haven’t even asked yet.”
During the taxi ride back to the hotel, Dominique rested her head on Haim’s shoulder, and he put his arm around her. Her shoulder was bare and warm. The trip ended too quickly, he thought. It was late, and Haim was relieved to find that O’Connor was not in the lobby.
By the time they made it to the elevator, they were unable to restrain themselves. When the doors closed, he pulled her close and kissed her neck as she caressed his muscular back. When they entered the room, they fell into each other’s arms again for a long, deep kiss. The wine and the refrigerator were forgotten as they quickly peeled off each other’s clothes, leaving a trail of garments on the way to the bed. They landed next to each other on the mattress without uttering a word, and Dominique proceeded to play Haim’s body like a hundred-string harp, exciting all of his senses. Anxious and tempestuous, he grabbed her buttocks with both hands and plunged deep inside of her with one thrust. Their rapid, rhythmic movements quickly reached a feverish pace, and they climaxed together with groans of pleasure that intertwined in the darkness.
“You’re amazing!” he moaned in a hoarse voice, out of breath.
“And you, mon général, are a man among men,” Dominique whispered in his ear, continuing to cling to him.
Side by side, they lay silently, until their panting ceased and their breathing returned to normal.
“We promised ourselves a digestif,” Dominique reminded him, as she pulled on her robe. She returned with a similar robe for Haim and two glasses of cognac. “Santé Haim—to your health,” she said. “And to success.”
“In Hebrew we say le chayim—to life,” said Haim softly, as he put on the robe and sat down at the small table beside Dominique. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
“We’re not saying goodbye, Haim. We’re just taking a break until tomorrow. And, in the meantime, there’s something else.” She placed a thick envelope on the table.
“What’s that?” Haim asked.
“Let’s just say it’s something well deserved, for your past and toward the future,” she answered with a smile.
Embarrassed and confused, he shoved the envelope into the pocket of his robe, daring to open it only once he was back in his own room. And when he did, he found himself staring at dozens of hundred-euro bills. Dominique truly is an astonishing woman, he thought. And now the money’s starting to flow…
Chapter 32
Jamshidi was in a desperate state. Ja’afari was embracing all possible opportunities to publicly criticize the delays in the development plans. Rumors travel fast in Tehran, and the word was out that General Jamshidi had fallen from grace. Speculations began regarding a list of possible figures that might succeed him to his powerful and important post.
The day after the failed attempt to fly the engines out of Portugal, Jamshidi sat in his office pondering his increasingly dismal success-to-failure ratio and asked not to be disturbed. The development of the advanced centrifuge was behind schedule, and a shipment of the carbon fibers that were essential to the project was nowhere on the horizon. The problems that had been caused by the cyberattack had still not been solved. The division’s development apparatus continued to move forward, but at a less-than-satisfactory pace.
But the most difficult blow had been the fiasco at the airport in Portugal. The meticulous work of his procurement network over the past few months had come to naught, and the thought was troubling enough to cause him significant bodily discomfort. What he needed was to somehow score a dramatic success, and to do so quickly. One solution, he thought, was to accelerate the procurement of red mercury as, if successful, this could compensate for all the failures. The moment he reached this conclusion and had a concrete goal to work toward, he felt better and called Dr. Fakari into his office.
“Good morning, Dr. Fakari. How are you feeling this morning?” Jamshidi asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
“Fine, General Jamshidi.”
“Fine? Fine?! Tell me, Fakari, what exactly is fine this morning?!” Jamshidi roared. “We’re behind on all our projects! What’s happening with the development of the maneuverable Shahab warhead?! The trial has been delayed again, and all we have to offer are excuses! Where are we in our own development of the switches?! You do know that our own procurement attempts in Europe have been unsuccessful, don’t you?! And what’s happening with the development of the advanced centrifuge?! Is there anything we can present to the president and the supreme leader as a success?!”
“Uh…well…” Fakari stammered hesitantly, startled by the intensity of the general’s fury and not daring to respond to his final question.
“Fakari, you once told me about a substance called red mercury. You said it was amazing.” Jamshidi ceased his tirade and shifted into a practical, businesslike tone. “Do you think it would be worth our while to make an effort to move into this field? Do you think we should try to purchase some amount of this substance?”
“Yes sir, I do,” said Fakari, quickly regaining his composure. “Studies have been conducted on the remarkable qualities of red mercury, which was apparently developed by the Soviet Union. It can even serve as a shortcut to a hydrogen bomb. I’ve read testimonies of Russian scientists about the substance. They claim that after being exposed to deep radiation, it’s capable of producing nuclear fusion.”
“According to our people in Europe, dealers there are selling it for astronomical prices,” commented Jamshidi.
“That’s true. The price I’ve heard is one point eight million dollars for a single kilogram of the stuff.”
“That much?”
“Yes. But if it ensures results along the lines of what the Russians have suggested, it’ll be worth every penny,” the young scientist assured him.
“I’m going to request an urgent meeting with the president to bring up the issue,” Jamshidi said. “I need you to provide me with all the necessary material. Put together an update regarding the state of our major development projects, and make sure to emphasize the positive side of things. I’ll also need a document on red mercury to present to the president. I’d like to get his blessing for purchasing it.”
As always, the president’s office was as busy as a beehive, with people incessantly coming and going. Jamshidi was thankful for his special relationship with the president who, on more than one occasion, had opened his door to Jamshidi when he was in need of advice or support. The director of the president’s office escorted Jamshidi to the small meeting room, where the president was already waiting for him.
“Welcome, please have a seat,” said the president warmly. “How are you, my friend?”
“Sir, I hope you are able to discern the positive spirit permeating the division, despite the various failings and obstacles with which we’ve been contending. As you know, the realm of technology and procurement is not the only realm in which obstacles exist.”
“What are you getting at?” the president asked.
“Certain elements within our organization,” Jamshidi began, choosing his words carefully, “are taking care to disseminate unwarranted criticism. Instead of offering assistance in times of trouble, some parties are seeking to profit from misfortune.”
“I am familiar with such behavior, my friend,” said the president. “And I can te
ll you from experience that the most effective solution is simply to succeed.”
“That is our aim, and that is our mission, with Allah’s blessing,” Jamshidi said. Interesting, he thought, that this was exactly what his wife had told him earlier that morning.
“You still haven’t updated me on your progress with the red mercury you mentioned,” noted the president. “Where do things stand?”
“In the nuclear science literature, we’ve found ideas advanced by the American professor Sam Cohen,” Jamshidi explained. “Cohen was part of the Manhattan Project, which developed America’s nuclear weapon during World War II. He also had original ideas regarding neutron bombs, bombs that emit primarily neutron radiation and are, therefore, extremely effective against people, without damaging buildings and facilities. Back in the 1990s, Cohen wrote an article on the use of red mercury as a direct accelerator for hydrogen fusion. He maintained that the Russians had already built small atomic bombs based on red mercury cores. According to Cohen, these bombs were the size of a soccer ball and weighed only five kilograms.”
“Is that true? Has anyone checked whether the Russians have actually developed such devices?”
“It appears to be legitimate, even if we don’t have any solid proof,” Jamshidi replied. “Secrecy is an inherent part of the work in this field. But after the breakup of the Soviet Union and the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact, there are individuals who are willing to supply the material.”
“Is it complicated to purchase? How much is required to begin developing such a device?” asked the president. “And how much will it cost us?”
“Red mercury sells for one point eight million dollars per kilogram on the black market. Five kilograms would be sufficient for us to begin developing a bomb. Of course, we’ll need to run reliability tests in the laboratory, and it’s still uncertain whether it will deliver the output that Professor Cohen spoke of. But if it is verified, sir…” Jamshidi said enthusiastically after glimpsing the spark in the president’s eyes, “…it would be an unprecedented strategic leap. We’re asking for your blessing to move forward.”
“It sounds promising,” said the president, standing up and walking the general to the door. “Start working immediately, and get results—for all our sakes.”
***
“Get me Farid Madani on the secure line immediately,” Jamshidi ordered his assistant. “He’s in Paris. Pull him out of whatever he’s doing.”
A few moments later, the call came through. “Farid, it’s good to hear your voice,” said Jamshidi. “You have a green light to purchase red mercury. I need you to get to Berlin at once and work with Arash on making the purchase. He’ll know how to get the necessary lab tests done using his connections at the Max Planck Institute.”
“I understand, sir,” said Madani without hesitation. “I’ll inform Arash and leave immediately.”
After putting down the receiver, General Jamshidi breathed a sigh of relief. Madani knows exactly what to do, he thought. He and Jawad were two men whom he trusted implicitly. If the plan worked, it would considerably boost his division’s standing within the Guardians of the Revolution.
***
In Dan’s communications room at the Defense Ministry Delegation building in Paris, Dan was permeated by a sense of uneasiness. Ever since he had discovered the relationship between Haim and his Iranian handler, the first thing he did each morning was to check for any new communications. This morning, Dan found only a report on the meetings in Zürich and the measures the Swiss government was likely to take in order to monitor the transfer of funds.
Something new had been conveyed in the communication between Tehran and Paris, but he couldn’t understand its content. One word, “mercury,” appeared repeatedly and, in one instance, the words “red” and “mercury” appeared together. Dan understood that it was a directive from General Jamshidi in Tehran to his representative in Paris and that it contained repeated reiteration of the utmost urgency of the matter.
“Gideon.” It was Dan, and he spoke quickly. “I found something, and I think it’s serious.”
“Serious and urgent enough?” asked Gideon, who had learned to trust the young man’s judgment.
“Yes, I think so. Should we call Bernard?”
“I’ll come to you. We can look at it together,” said Gideon, who feared Dan had found more evidence of Haim’s extracurricular activities. “Let’s not bother Bernard with anything until we’re certain.”
***
“Bonjour, Monsieur Avni! Do you have some new information, or have you just missed us?” Bernard smiled and patted Dan on the back as he entered the office and nodded to Gideon and Deutsch as they followed him in.
“I have missed you, Professor Bernard,” replied Dan, “but I’ve also found something that I think is serious enough to justify taking up some of your time.”
“Go ahead, Dan, show him what you found,” Deutsch said.
“It’s a new Iranian procurement directive. This is a high-ranking order from General Jamshidi to his agent in Paris,” said Dan, using his left index finger to point to the pages he held in his right hand. “It’s a high-ranking agent. I didn’t get the man’s name, but the communication is about a substance called red mercury, and it’s clearly extremely urgent. It mentions Berlin. I think the purchase is planned to take place there.”
“Are you familiar with the substance? Dr. Deutsch? Gideon?”
“I know a bit about red mercury, and I know that people have different opinions on the matter,” said Deutsch. “The professional literature describes it as an alloy of a number of substances: something like ten percent plutonium, sixty percent mercury, and ten percent antimony, along with oxygen, iodine, and gallium.”
It was now Gideon’s turn to share what he knew. “One of the theories advanced in the mid-1990s was that red mercury could help facilitate the enrichment of Uranium 235, making centrifuge systems unnecessary. This would make it extremely easy to conceal the enrichment process, which is undoubtedly an enchanting prospect for the Iranians,” Gideon explained. “Another view was that of Dr. Sam Cohen, who worked on the Manhattan Project as a young scientist. Cohen maintained that when this substance explodes, it produces intense heat and a powerful blast that could be used to produce a neutron bomb.”
“And how much does this magical substance cost?” Bernard asked, visibly concerned by Gideon’s mention of the Manhattan Project.
“According to the suppliers—who are Russians or Ukrainians, and perhaps also Romanians and Czechs, who travel around with samples and show potential buyers certification of test results from known laboratories—it goes for one point eight million dollars per kilogram.”
“The Iranians may have been motivated by an assertion that’s attributed to Professor Cohen, which I’m not at all certain is true,” Gideon said, “that Iraq had purchased substantial quantities of red mercury. According to Cohen, this charge was based on documents that were seized by UN inspectors following the First Gulf War.”
“Gideon,” Bernard said, “if the Iranians have acquired the substance, what risk do you think it poses? And if it does pose a risk, what can be done about it?”
“Some experts have concurred with Cohen’s opinion, but there are a large number of skeptics. Many in the field categorically deny that red mercury has any miraculous attributes and regard the reports as fraudulent and somehow related to sophisticated sting operations. Bernard, I suggest you pose the same question to your nuclear scientists at the French Atomic Energy Commission and see what they have to say. With your permission, I’ll ask our experts in Israel, and I assume Dr. Deutsch would not mind checking the issue with American nuclear scientists.”
“Good idea, Gideon. And what do you think should be done in the meantime?” Bernard felt comfortable having Gideon around.
“In the meantime, Dan should continue monitoring communications with t
he assistance of the NSA people at the American embassy. They have excellent coverage of Germany. Just ask Angela Merkel,” Gideon reminded them with a grin.
***
Jawad picked up Madani at Tegel Airport and drove directly to the embassy. On the way, he filled him in on the relationship he had developed with the Ukrainian agent who had once offered to sell him red mercury.
“We’re meeting with him this evening,” Jawad told him. “I think it would be best to make the purchase in two stages. We’ll start out with one kilogram. He’s not willing to discuss anything less. I have a suitcase containing one point eight million euros for the initial purchase.”
“And what proof will we have that it is what he says it is?” Madani asked.
“I have a good relationship with a few fellow former students who are now Ph.D. candidates at a university here in Berlin,” Jawad explained. “One of the men I know is the director of laboratories at the Max Planck Institute. In exchange for a sizable donation to his research fund, he’ll do just about anything. I’ve already contacted him and made sure that the tests will begin tomorrow and take no more than two to three days.”
***
In Paris, Dan continued working with the NSA branch at the US embassy to monitor developments in Berlin. Gideon contacted Israel and received answers that supported his own assessment, which diminished somewhat the threat posed by red mercury. He updated Binyamin from the prime minister’s office regarding the tests that were about to be conducted at the Max Planck Institute. A few hours later, Binyamin called back to tell him that he had located a young Israeli scientist who was on sabbatical at the institute. “He’s one of ours,” Binyamin told Gideon, “he’ll do what needs to be done to get the test results in real time.” The scientist had promised to contact Gideon directly the moment he received the results.
“There’s a great deal of confusion in Berlin,” Dan informed Bernard, Deutsch, and Gideon two days later. “The tests found that it’s not what they expected, but Gideon already knew that from a source at the institute. The Iranians in Berlin are still debating how to inform the general of the failure.”
