A Trap in Paris: A Breathtaking Thriller to Keep You Guessing How Much of it is Real... (International Espionage Book 2)

by Uzi Eilam

  The two guards did not bother having long conversations with him and limited themselves to only a few words and hand motions. By listening to their conversations with one another, Dan learned their first names: Amin and Hafez. Based on his knowledge of the Persian language, Dan knew that “Amin” meant “trustworthy,” although Amin was certainly not someone he could actually trust. It was also clear that, although “Hafez” meant “protector,” Hafez would not protect him.

  The small apartment—which, based on the ride up in the cramped elevator, Dan conjectured was on the fifth floor—had two rooms. Dan was being held in the inner room, which had no windows. He followed the activities of his guards and tried to listen in on their conversations. Once a day, every afternoon, Amin would go downstairs to buy groceries. The chore typically took him no more than twenty minutes. They removed Dan’s handcuffs only when they brought him food, and when they did, they both kept a vigilant eye on him with their pistols drawn. Dan also took note of an Uzi submachine gun, and he wondered where they had acquired the well-known Israeli firearm.

  Gideon would not disappoint him, he assured himself. He was probably already organizing a rescue operation. Dan focused his thoughts and tried to use paranormal techniques, which had been a childhood hobby of his, to send Gideon a telepathic message. For a moment, he was overcome by the sense that Gideon was also sending him a message: that he should not worry and that they would rescue him soon. He had worked hard the previous night trying to figure out the combination of his handcuffs. He knew he needed to base his efforts on the Iranian approach to encoding, which he had come to understand during his most recent decoding efforts. Based on his experience in the military, he focused on specific ranges of numbers. Shortly before morning, he succeeded in opening the lock, and he managed to open the cuffs on his ankles, which had a slightly different combination, more quickly. By the time dawn broke, he had conducted a few trial runs of freeing both his hands and feet and had gotten his time down to under thirty seconds.

  ***

  The apartment in which Bernard’s men had set up Gideon’s surveillance position offered a clear view, by means of a telescope, of the massive door that opened into the interior courtyard at 31 Rue Jacob. It also afforded a view, through the window, of the larger room in the fifth-floor apartment and of the movements of the two men inside. The two gendarmerie officers who had been assigned to Gideon were equipped with the code to the front door of the building and a master key to all the apartments.

  Gideon positioned the telescope to get the best view possible. He could not stop thinking about what Dan must be going through. His young colleague was also his daughter’s boyfriend, and he knew that he was counting on him. Gideon’s mobile phone rang, startling him. “Is everything okay, Gideon?” asked Bernard.

  “Yes. Thank you. Your men are real professionals, and we’re well organized here. Let’s hope for the best.”

  “We’re all with you, one hundred percent,” said Bernard.

  A full day went by, and Gideon was able to establish with certainty that there were only two men in the apartment. He was not able to see if Dan was also there. One of the two men was armed with a pistol, which he periodically removed from his shoulder holster to check the magazine. Gideon and the two gendarmerie officers also concluded that one of the two men left the apartment each afternoon, apparently to go shopping. They timed the duration of his absences at approximately twenty minutes.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Gideon watched as an Iranian man exited the main entrance of 31 Rue Jacob, as expected, and closed the door behind him. Dressed casually and armed with pistols, the gendarmerie officers flanked Gideon as he walked quickly, but not too quickly, to the door of the building and entered the courtyard. The old, cramped elevator was still open and waiting on the ground floor, and it creaked as they took it up to the fifth floor. As the elevator door opened, the butterflies that invaded his stomach reminded Gideon of his younger days in Sayeret Tzanhanim, the elite commando unit of the Israeli army’s paratroopers brigade, and of the way he used to feel before every dangerous operation. He was reassured by the fact that the two men with him were seasoned professionals who specialized in precisely this kind of work.

  When they reached the apartment, one of the gendarmerie fighters took out the master key, slid it silently into the lock, and turned. He pushed the door open slowly with his left hand, and the pistol in his right remained steadily trained on the opening as it widened. He stepped inside quickly and silently, keeping the pistol level in front of him, and quickly scanned the room from right to left. Gideon and the second gendarmerie officer followed him in but found no one there.

  “Dan!” called Gideon, unaware that his young colleague had also made effective use of the guard’s shopping break to free himself from his cuffs, which now only appeared to bind him.

  “I’m in here!” Dan’s weak voice emanated from behind the closed door of the back room, and the first gendarmerie officer moved quickly toward the door. Gideon only managed to take one step toward Dan’s voice before a thundering blow sent him tumbling to the floor.

  The Iranian who had waited behind the door for their entry was fast and well trained. When Gideon opened his eyes, he was staring down the muzzle of a pistol held by an Iranian standing above him. This could be it, said a voice inside his head, as he tried to think of some way to overcome his assailant.

  Suddenly, Gideon discerned a flash of motion from behind his attacker and a loud thud. The Iranian collapsed, revealing the figure of the second gendarmerie officer holding the pistol with which he had struck his adversary. The Iranian lay on his back, unconscious.

  “We have to tie him up immediately,” said Gideon. “The other guard will be back any second.”

  “Use these,” said Dan, who emerged from the back room accompanied by the first gendarmerie officer and tossed his handcuffs to Gideon. “They’re excellent.”

  They quickly found a kitchen towel to gag the incapacitated operative, and the moment he began to regain consciousness, Amin opened the door carrying two bags of groceries. Now it was his turn to be surprised, but only for a fraction of a second, after which he drew his pistol and scanned the room. The gendarmerie officer who had been hiding behind the door struck the operative’s hand, and the pistol fired, lodging a round in the wall above Gideon’s head. A ferocious but brief struggle—during which Amin attempted to choke the French officer—ended with a sharp blow to the Iranian’s head, which knocked him unconscious. Dan started to tie him up.

  “We’ll take care of the Iranians,” one of the officers said to Gideon. “I suggest you get Mr. Avni to a hospital to get checked out. He’s had a rough couple of days. Our ambulance is waiting at the entrance to the building.”

  As the ambulance sped toward its destination, Gideon never once stopped smiling or removed his arm from Dan’s shoulder, as his young friend told him everything he had gone through over the past few days.

  Chapter 43

  The rescue operation had left Gideon exhausted, and both his body and soul cried out for rest. He was worried about how the experience as a prisoner would affect Dan, who had tried with all his might to get back to business as usual.

  “Let’s take the day off,” he suggested to Dan when they met for breakfast the next day. “I’ll show you a side of Paris you’ve never seen.” It was late morning, and Gideon was pleased to see that they were the last guests in the restaurant. “Have you spoken to Noam yet?”

  “Not yet,” Dan said apologetically. “Like I said, I’ve decided not to use my cell phone or WhatsApp to tell her about what happened. And I want to give myself a bit of time to recover before I talk to her. Then I’ll call her on the delegation’s restricted line. She’ll know I’ve been through something serious the moment she hears my voice. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “I understand. Let’s meet back here in twenty minutes. I’m going to ch
ange into walking shoes, and you should too. The only real way to get to know the city is on foot.”

  ***

  “Gideon. How are you? Did you manage to get some sleep?” It was Dr. Deutsch calling.

  “Hi Gerald. Yes, I did. And I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Do you have a moment?”

  “Is it urgent? I had planned on taking the day off and relaxing. I invited Dan to join me for a day out in Paris.”

  “I wanted to meet, but it’s not urgent,” said Deutsch calmly. “You and Dan should go out and have a nice time. Perhaps we could meet up for an early dinner?”

  “Sounds good. We can go to Chez René. It’s just down Boulevard Saint-Germain, not far from here,” said Gideon. “But don’t eat a lot today. They’re known for their large portions.”

  “Great. Shall we say seven?”

  “I’ll reserve a table. Should I ask Dan to join us?”

  “I think that, at this stage, it would be better if it were just the two of us.”

  “No problem. But as we both know, if we need information from the past or a wiretap in real time, Dan certainly has proven himself,” said Gideon proudly.

  “I remember. I’ll meet you this evening in the hotel lobby.”

  ***

  Gideon hoped the restaurant was still as good as he remembered. During the short walk from the hotel, he found himself lost in memories of his unforgettable first visit to Chez René. It had been Dominique, the young university student, who had taken him there when he was working at Sagem all those years ago. He was yanked back into the present by painful thoughts about the hideous betrayal of the love from his past.

  “How was your day?” asked Deutsch, rescuing Gideon from his own reflections.

  “It was wonderful. We walked from the hotel to the Louvre and then to the 4th Arrondissement, where we admired the palace that now houses Paris City Hall. Then we stopped at Notre Dame Cathedral, and I told Dan about the history of its establishment. Next, we walked the length of Île Saint-Louis and stopped for coffee in a bistro overlooking the Seine. And, of course, what visit to that part of the city would be complete without stopping at Berthillon for ice cream?”

  “You two certainly deserved a day out. I’m sure it helped take your minds off everything you two have been through.”

  “That was the idea, Gerald. But our break is over. It’s time to get back to work.”

  ***

  The restaurant looked just as he remembered it: an unpretentious interior design with clean lines and small tables covered with white tablecloths. A few moments after they sat down, the head waiter appeared and presented them with two menus. “May I get you gentlemen something to drink?”

  “Not yet. We’ll wait until we’ve decided what to order,” answered Gideon, sharpening his French.

  “I’m afraid you’ll need to help me out here,” said Deutsch, smiling. “My French is almost nonexistent.”

  “With pleasure.” Gideon read over the menu and made a recommendation, which both men agreed sounded delicious. Deutsch then broached the subject that was on his mind: Dominique de Saint-Germaine.

  “I wanted to share my impressions of Mrs. de Saint-Germaine’s interrogation with you. You remember how Bernard asked me to observe the interrogation from behind a two-way mirror? Well, I sat there and watched her almost the entire time. At first she tried to deny everything, but Bernard and the two French counterespionage agents kept pushing her, showing her documents and transcripts of her conversations with her Iranian handler.”

  “Did she say who her handler was?” asked Gideon, pondering how he would tell Deutsch about his relationship with Dominique and hoping to delay the inevitable.

  “No. She admitted to passing on information from the task force meetings that resulted in the failure of some of our initiatives. But they couldn’t get anything out of her about her handler.”

  “I must admit, Gerald,” Gideon interjected, shaking his head, “I think Dominique tried to feel me out about the possibility of joining her.”

  “What exactly did she say?” Deutsch asked quickly.

  “I first met Dominique here in Paris many years ago, when we were both students. She was at the Sorbonne, and I was on a break from the Technion, working for a company here for the summer. It was a young lovers’ romance that left me breathless, but it ended when classes started up again in Paris and in Haifa.”

  “And what about now?”

  “I saw her again, for the first time, at the initial meeting of the task force. After that, we set a date at Café de Flore to catch up. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t filled with nostalgia when I met her at the café. And Dominique—well, she acted as if no time had passed. It was so tempting to rekindle our romance.”

  “And even though you knew she was part of the task force, you continued seeing her? You gave into the temptation?”

  “Yes. And now that I think about it, it’s clear that she was actually the one who continued it… I now understand that her reasons for doing so weren’t so romantic after all.”

  “Isn’t this all somewhat reminiscent of what happened in California?” Deutsch said. “How Nurit, your teenage love, was drawn into working for the Guardians?”

  “It is. But it only occurred to me much later, during my meetings in Tel Aviv. Perhaps, despite it all, I’m still a romantic. And also a bit too naïve.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Gideon. The truth is, I’ve also wondered about my own failure in California. After all, I was the one who didn’t recognize the mole the Iranians had planted at SRI. “It was you who discovered the lead that ultimately enabled us to identify the Iranian agents.”

  “In any event,” Gideon continued, “at some point, it seemed as if Dominique was trying to convey a message about money and getting paid for services rendered. It was a bit vague, but my gut started telling me to be careful.”

  “I learned long ago to trust your instincts, Gideon. That’s why I wanted to meet with you.”

  “Right,” said Gideon, remembering that this was actually a business dinner requested by Dr. Deutsch. “So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

  “Like I said, Dominique didn’t give up her handler, which is something we need to know. And what about the rest of the network?”

  “Without a doubt, Gerald, we’ll bring it up with Professor Bernard tomorrow morning.”

  The desserts with which Café René had been blessed—Sorbet Fantasia, with berries and orange liqueur, and Crème Caramel—took away the bitter taste left by the issues they had discussed.

  “To health and success!” Deutsch raised the glass of aged cognac to which the owner had insisted on treating his guests.

  “Hear, hear!” Gideon raised his glass and grinned at his trusted colleague and friend. “To health and success!”

  Chapter 44

  The ringtone of Gideon’s cell phone roused him from a deep sleep. It had been some time since he had enjoyed such a relaxed and peaceful night. The clock on the bedside table showed eight a.m., and he could not remember the last time he had woken up so late since his arrival in Paris.

  “My apologies if I woke you, sir.” It was the voice of Professor Bernard’s assistant. “We’d like to set up a meeting in the professor’s office this morning, if that’s convenient for you. We’ve also invited Dr. Deutsch, and it would be excellent if you could inform Mr. Avni.”

  “What’s it about?” asked Gideon drowsily, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “The professor would like to conduct an interim assessment of recent events and have an intimate discussion about the continuation of the work of the task force. Would ten o’clock be all right?”

  “Sure,” replied Gideon, “if it works for Dr. Deutsch.”

  “Thank you, sir. Professor Bernard’s dri
ver will pick you up at the hotel.”

  ***

  As the driver deftly negotiated the heavy morning traffic, Gideon was submersed in reflections on the past week. He found it particularly difficult to stop thinking about Haim’s betrayal.

  “What does the professor want from us?” Dan asked, snapping Gideon out of his own thoughts. “Haven’t all the problems dealt with by the task force been addressed already?”

  “No, Dan. Not everything has been resolved. We prevented the massive shipment from Portugal to Iran. I was saved from assassination. With the help of your magic hands, we freed you from the Iranians. And, to top it all off, we exposed Madame de Saint-Germaine as a traitor and a collaborator with the Iranians.”

  “And let’s not forget our own traitor.”

  “Of course,” Gideon continued. “But we still know nothing about the network the Iranians set up here, despite the substantial material we’ve accumulated thanks to your work. I’m guessing that Bernard knows more now, based on the information acquired from Dominique’s interrogation. We also only received initial and partial information from Haim’s interrogation, especially about the way Dominique drew him over to the other side. We still don’t know who Dominique’s and Haim’s Iranian handlers were. Perhaps Bernard knows something. In any event, I assume that’s something we’ll have to get into.”

  “Wow. I guess you’re right. I didn’t realize how far we were from the finish line. Actually, in my files here,” said Dan, patting his backpack, “I have a lot of material from communications between two Iranians who seem to be major figures in the Iranian activity in Europe. Actually, they’re the two who met with Jamshidi during his visit to Paris: Farid Madani, who operates out of Paris, and Arash Jawad, who spends most of his time in Berlin.”

  “Let’s save the rest for the meeting in Professor Bernard’s office,” Gideon said, in an attempt to stop the flow of intelligence being articulated aloud by his young colleague.

  ***

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Bernard said as Gideon and Dan entered the minister’s office. “Please, follow me to the conference room, where we can be certain no one is listening. That is, of course, assuming that Monsieur Avni has not also worked his magic there,” he joked, smiling at Dan. “Dr. Deutsch is already waiting for us.”