‘You see, gentlemen, with the United States as a fully committed ally we can face virtually anything. In fact, in my opinion, they are the only ally worth having. The European states, with the honourable exception of Holland, will always ultimately act in their own selfish interests. It is America that arms us, and America that gives us the financial aid we vitally need.’
He started pacing again and the tone of his voice went up half a decibel as he warmed to his theme.
‘Of course, much of the assistance they give us comes from the warmth of their hearts. However, politics plays a very large part. It is almost impossible for an American President to be elected without the Jewish vote. The same goes for a large number of Congressmen. When Moshe Dayan last visited America, President Carter begged him not to criticise him to the major Jewish organisations. He practically went down on his knees. Moshe told me it was quite degrading.’
Walter interjected ‘But Carter lost the election.’
‘Yes, Mr Blum, and the Jewish organisations stayed neutral. It was judged that there was little to choose between the candidates as to their policies towards Israel. Carter was a friend, but a weak one. Reagan may be less of a friend but he will make America strong and that is vital to us.’
He sighed. ‘The problem is that right now President Reagan is upset with Israel and with me in particular.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Well, I’m used to being unpopular - and I don’t care. Reagan is mad because of our activities in the Lebanon. He expects us to adopt a conciliatory attitude to the Syrian presence there. To the thousands of Palestinian terrorists who use it as a base to murder our women and children. He sent his ambassador to tell me to behave.’ He was breathing deeply now and chopping the air with his hands.
‘He treats us like spoiled children who need a spanking!’ He rounded on the two men, his face working in anger. Then abruptly he controlled himself and smiled mischievously.
‘I reminded the ambassador about the American blockade of Cuba. I pointed out that Central America was developing into their own Lebanon. I asked him what the President would do if the Cubans massed a few armoured divisions on the border between Mexico and Texas. If they sent terrorists to Dallas to kill school children.’
‘How did he take that?’ Walter asked, intrigued to be privy to the intimate details of high State diplomacy.
Begin smiled. ‘I haven’t had a reply yet, but I expect he got the message.’ He became serious again. ‘The problem is that Reagan is tough, and in view of his age may decide not to run for a second term. That would take away all our leverage. He could make things very difficult for Israel. As it is we shall have a battle with him over his plans to sell AWAC surveillance planes to the Saudis. It could be a bitter battle and we might lose.’
He came back to his chair and sat down and tapped the report. ‘If we bomb this reactor and President Reagan is not totally convinced that it was necessary, then he will be very angry indeed and he may not veto any UN sanction resolutions. That would be very serious for Israel. He may hold up or even cancel military and financial aid. That would be catastrophic for Israel.’
He looked up, first at General Hofti and then at Walter. ‘So you see our dilemma. The decision whether or not to bomb this reactor will be taken by the Cabinet. It will be a very difficult decision unless we know that immediately afterwards we can give undeniable proof to one man that the Iraqis were planning to use it to manufacture nuclear weapons.’
‘It is so obvious . . .’ Walter began, but the Prime Minister cut him short.
‘Obvious to us, yes, and probably to everyone else, including the French. But they and the Iraqis and all the Arabs and Russia will scream bloody murder. I don’t care - let them scream. Let everyone scream with the exception of President Reagan. He must know why we had to do it. He won’t take our word. We need physical proof.’
He sat back in his chair, looked quizzically at General Hofti and asked ‘What exactly is the Mossad situation in Iraq? What chance is there of getting an agent inside their nuclear establishment?’
Hofti shrugged negatively and glanced at Walter, who said flatly ‘Almost impossible. The security, both French and Iraqi, is naturally as tight as a vice. As to our situation, it’s very thin. We have only one good agent in the country.’
‘Only one?’
‘Yes sir. Oh, we have half a dozen of what we call “fly catchers”. They are second-level agents, good for surveillance and occasional strong-arm stuff, but not of the calibre to penetrate such a target. We also have a well-placed agent inside the Iraqi Mukhabarat, but he gives us only limited information. No, we have only one. He’s code-named ORANGE BLUE and he’s top class.’
Tell me about him. Is he an Israeli?’
Begin saw Walter look at Hofti and he quietly added ‘I don’t need details, Mr Blum. Just give me an impression of the man who is so important for our country.’
Walter thought for a moment, then said ‘He is not an Israeli. His mother was Jewish and she died for Israel. Now he sees himself as Jewish and totally identifies with the Jewish people. He is a brilliant agent, although he came to it late. He is also very independent - a loner. He worked out his own strategy for getting into Iraq on a very favourable basis. Also, when they invaded Iran he went immediately to Tehran. He was the man who negotiated the deal with Bani Sadr whereby we would secretly supply the Iranians with ammunition and spare parts and in return they would attempt to bomb the Iraqi nuclear establishment at El-Tuwaitha. It was a brilliant plan but unfortunately the Iranian Air Force botched the job. None of the bombs dropped within two miles of the reactor.’
‘Yes, it’s a pity,’ Begin said. ‘At first the CIA intimated that it was the Israeli Air Force in disguise. We pointed out that if it had been, they wouldn’t have missed. Where is this man now?’
‘He’s in Cyprus, waiting for me. He’s due to go back to Iraq in a few days.’
Begin looked thoughtful. ‘One man,’ he mused. ‘Well, it has often happened in our history that a single man has had a great effect. Look what Cohen did in Syria. Now tell me, General, how will we know when this reactor is due to be made “hot”?’
‘That’s no problem,’ Hofti said confidently. ‘Obviously they’ll try to keep it secret, but we’ve long ago penetrated the International Atomic Energy Agency. They will have to know when it’s due to come on stream.’ He pointed to the report. ‘Present indications are that it will be between June and September of this year.’
Begin frowned. ‘It gives us little time.’ He stood and again started pacing. A small, energetic man impatient to be confined even to a chair. Suddenly he came to a stop and said triumphantly:
‘July!’ He turned to face the two men and laughed loudly at their expressions of puzzlement, it will be in July when they activate it. As Intelligence agents you should have seen it. “Tammuz” is the name of a Sumerian shepherd god . . . and it’s also Arabic for the month of July!’
‘It’s pure speculation,’ Hofti said, but the Prime Minister shook his head emphatically.
‘No, Hofti. Of course, with the delay in shipment the exact timing could be haphazard, but Saddam Hussein is a man who sees things in symbols. Many Arabs do. If it’s at all possible he will activate “Tammuz” in the month of its namesake. If we are going to destroy it we must do so before July . . . That gives us little time.’ He turned to Walter. ‘Your agent ORANGE BLUE must act. I must have that proof. In the meantime I will instruct the Air Force to begin precise exercises.’
Walter pushed back his chair and hauled himself to his feet. ‘Then I shall get back to Limassol, Mr Prime Minister. Thank you for receiving me.’
Begin came forward and, with difficulty, embraced him. ‘Please pass on to ORANGE BLUE a message: Israel depends on him. Please also give him my personal respects and best wishes.’
Walter nodded solemnly and then rolled his way to the door.
Chapter 15
‘There’s no chance at all.’
Munger said it fl
atly and the dewlap jowls of Walter’s face dropped lower.
‘I agree,’ Misha Wigoda added. ‘They’re certainly expecting some kind of action from us. So are the French, and with scores of their scientists and technicians on the spot they’re making sure that security is perfect at El Tuwaitha. There’s no chance.’
‘I also agree,’ Isaac Shapiro said. ‘Even to try would be counterproductive.’
Walter grunted in irritation and looked at the fourth man sitting opposite his desk. It was Efim Zimmerman, who was visiting from Paris and had been co-opted in to this all-important conference.
‘Maybe, Walter,’ he said, ‘you’re approaching this thing from the wrong direction.’
Walter grunted again, this time ominously, in his present mood even the venerable Zimmerman was not immune from a tongue lashing. For the past hour they had been examining ways of providing the absolute proof that Menachem Begin demanded. Proof that would convince even the most paranoid of sceptics. They had gone through many permutations, from bribing a high Iraqi official to penetrating the nuclear establishment itself. So far, nothing promising had emerged.
‘What direction,’ Walter growled, ‘would you suggest?’ Zimmerman was not at all perturbed by Walter’s simmering mood.
‘Yellowcake,’ he said positively. ‘The Iraqis have been trying to buy some for the past three years. They’ve approached the Portuguese, the Brazilians, even the Australians through a front company. They’ve been in the market for over a thousand tons. Thanks to our intervention their negotiations came to nothing, but until three months ago their efforts have been unceasing. Then abruptly they dropped out of the market.’
‘So they gave up,’ Walter said. ‘Or, more likely, they’ve found another way to obtain U235 or PU239. Maybe the Russians gave them some?’
Zimmerman shook his head. ‘That’s very unlikely. You know how they are. No, Walter.’ He leaned forward and, in a school-masterish tone, said ‘Think, Walter. Use your brains. Why else would the Iraqis drop out of the “yellowcake” market?’
Walter glared at him and an eruption was imminent when Munger said
‘Because they’ve already got some?’
‘Exactly. It’s an obvious prognosis.’ Zimmerman sat back in his chair with a satisfied air. ‘And it’s not difficult to work out where they got it. We know that Libya has stockpiled over five hundred tons. It’s a fair bet that the Colonel has done a deal with his good friend Saddam Hussein.’
Walter was smiling and shaking his head. ‘It’s very logical, Efim, but you’re wrong. Because the ORANGE network is compartmentalised, and because of the “need to know” factor, you didn’t know that we’ve had a cover watch on that stockpile ever since Gaddafi started buying. I can tell you the date of every shipment he’s received. So far no yellowcake has been re-exported. It’s been one of our most successful covert operations.’ He gestured expansively. ‘Isaac here has been controlling it.’
Isaac Shapiro looked very unhappy. He asked: ‘Mr Blum, didn’t you read your “URGENT’ file?’
‘No. I only got back late last night. So far I’ve only seen the “IMMEDIATE” file. What is it, man?’
Shapiro’s prominent Adam ’s apple bobbed up and down as he gulped nervously.
‘Four days ago,’ he said, ‘the Libyans transported one hundred tons of yellowcake from the stockpile at Sarir to the naval base at Tobruk. Right now it’s being loaded onto a small freighter-the “SS Elmsland”. She’s six hundred tons, previously owned by a British company but purchased last month by the Hirah Trading and Shipping Company of Beirut.’
There was a pained silence, finally broken by Misha Wigoda, who said very quietly.
‘Hirah is an Iraqi front company. In the past they bought fringe military equipment from the Americans. Computers, electronics et cetera.’
So Walter apologised to Zimmerman and the meeting examined the options.
Isaac Shapiro was already drawing up plans to sabotage and hopefully sink the “SS Elmsland”. It would almost certainly unload its cargo in the tiny Gulf port of Fao, which was why the Iraqis had bought such a small vessel. Since the closing of the Shatt al Arab waterway by the war, the main port of Basrah was cut off. Fao was originally used by fishing trawlers and could only take very small vessels.
The ship could pass through the Suez Canal and Shapiro thought that a frogman raid might be feasible, while it waited off Port Said for a convoy. The Egyptians might even co-operate. The thought of Saddam Hussein having a nuclear arsenal would give President Sadat nightmares.
They discussed whether another route might be used. The Iraqis were bringing in a lot of supplies through the Jordanian port of Aqaba, and then trucking them across the desert. They were also covertly using the Saudi port of Jeddah while the authorities turned a Pan-Arabic blind eye.
The consensus though was that because of the nature of the cargo and the distinctive drum containers, the Iraqis would almost certainly bring it direct to Fao. At that point Munger, who hitherto had remained silent, asked a question:
‘Exactly what do those drums look like, and how many will there be?’
Shapiro supplied the answer, speaking in a prim, lecturing tone.
‘Uranium oxide is the colour of egg yolk and has a texture like coarse sand. Hence the term “yellowcake”. The Iraqis cannot use yellowcake to fuel the Tammuz reactor, so they only want it for one reason: to pack round the core and extract PU239. That hundred tons of yellowcake will give them enough of it to make about twenty Hiroshima-size bombs. Because it’s radioactive and dangerous to swallow or inhale, it is transported in special yellow-coloured, two hundred litre drums with bright red rubber seals. Each drum weighs approximately a third of a ton and has large black lettering denoting the source of the ore and a serial number. The purpose of this was to give some measure of control to the IAEA - it proved to be of little help. There are exactly three hundred drums in this shipment.’
Munger stood up and walked to a large map which covered most of one wall. It showed the Middle East in minute detail. The others watched his back as he studied it carefully. When he turned he was smiling. He said:
‘We’d be fools to sink that ship and its cargo. What better proof can you give to President Reagan than a photograph showing the Iraqis taking delivery of those drums?’
He walked back to the table and sat down as a babble of discussion broke out. Everyone saw the beauty of it. The Iraqis would really be caught with egg on their faces. The only question was whether Munger could do it. And where.
He was strangely complacent. After all, taking snaps of forbidden subjects was his speciality. There would, of course, be massive security at Fao, but it was close to the war zone and he could get into the general area. There was another even more interesting possibility: the Iraqis obviously would not send the yellowcake to El Tuwaitha with its hundreds of French scientists and IAEA inspectors falling over each other. No, they would send it to a secret establishment where it would be prepared and stored until such time as Tammuz I was ‘hot’ and all foreigners expelled from El Tuwaitha. The opportunity might arise to track the shipment and get some snaps of that secret establishment.
The level of excitement rose and so did the noise as the others offered suggestions and back-up plans. But Munger would have none of it. He would be alone and he would have to improvise. Through his Kurdish connections he already had ‘safe houses’ in Baghdad and other Iraqi cities. He also had an escape route prepared through Kurdistan to the Turkish port of Mersin in case the operation went wrong. The main thing now was to track the “SS Elmsland” and calculate its estimated time of arrival at Fao. As soon as that was established he would head for Iraq.
So the meeting broke up. Isaac Shapiro and Misha Wigoda went away to plan the surveillance of the ship and Walter told Munger that he would contact him in Platres as soon as they had news.
Munger turned to Zimmerman and said ‘Efim. If I don’t see you before you leave, have a good trip back to Par
is.’
They shook hands and, on impulse, Zimmerman embraced him. ‘Go with God.’
As he reached the door, Walter said ‘Tell Ruth that I’m very displeased with her. She hasn’t come down to have lunch with me for over a month.’
‘She’s been busy, Walter. We’re fixing up and extending my old farmhouse. She complains that you send me away too often and she does most of the work.’
‘It’s no excuse,’ Walter grumbled. Tell her she “hast cleft my heart in twain”.’
Munger grinned. ‘That’s impossible, Walter. You don’t have one.’ He closed the door quietly behind him and Waiter turned to Zimmerman with a hurt expression.
‘That’s not true.’
‘Of course it’s not, Walter.’ Zimmerman patted his arm comfortingly. ‘But it’s hidden among so many folds of flesh it tends to be forgotten. Now I need a drink.’
As Walter poured two large Scotches, Zimmerman said:
‘Part of me is very frightened that so much rests on the ability of one man. Another part is very glad that it’s such a man as Munger.’
Walter handed him his drink and they moved over to a group of chairs in a corner and sat down.
‘He’s the perfect agent for this job,’ Waiter said. ‘But it’s his independence that worries me. He hates to be controlled, hates to have someone looking over his shoulder. I like to have a complete grip on an operation. To guide and direct it, but in this case I’m a bystander. We all are.’
Zimmerman sipped his drink and settled back in his chair. He sensed that Walter wanted to talk. Perhaps was seeking a little avuncular advice. It was a rare situation and Zimmerman was enjoying it. To encourage Walter he said ‘Tell me more about him.’
So Walter talked for half an hour. He explained about his mental condition and how the cause of it was still a mystery. He talked about Ruth and how he had tried to recruit her to seduce Munger and how she had refused, and yet a few months later they had become lovers. When he spoke of Ruth his voice softened and his affection for her was obvious.
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