by Uzi Eilam
Gideon said nothing but squeezed her hand gently.
“Now it’s your turn,” Dominique said, returning to herself again. “What happened after you returned to Israel with the American woman?”
“We had two wonderful kids. Amitai, a boy, and a daughter named Noam. Suzy spent most of her time raising the kids. She was a good mother.”
“And what about you? What did you do with your doctorate in systems analysis?” Gideon noticed that Dominique had refrained from asking more about his family and had referred to Suzy as “the American woman.”
“I found a job in a large security technology firm, but I also kept up my connections in academia and held a part-time position as a lecturer at Tel Aviv University.”
“That sounds great,” Dominique remarked. “You had the best of both worlds. But wasn’t it a heavy load? Were you also able to find time for your family?”
“I was, mostly during our short weekends and on holidays. Based on the results, Dominique, it all seems to have worked out. Amitai and Noam have grown up to be wonderful, open, and balanced individuals. Though this actually might have more to do with Suzy’s role in raising them than I’ve been willing to admit,” he added, as an afterthought, after mulling it over for a few seconds.
“And then you went back to the States?”
“I was offered a position as a research fellow at SRI at Stanford. Professionally, it was an extremely valuable experience.” There was no reason to tell her about the Iranian network. “The kids stayed in Israel. Amitai was attending university and Noam was in the army, and Suzy and I were once again a young couple with lots of freedom. How did you know that I went back to the US?” Gideon wondered what else she knew but decided not to pressure her.
“I know many things, my dear…” she replied with a familiar smile, glancing down at her designer watch. “Wow! Our hour has flown by! I really have to go,” she said apologetically, standing up. “We’ll meet again soon.” She squeezed both his hands tightly. “Both with the rest of the task force and without them…”
Gideon stood up and gave Dominique a long hug and a light kiss on the cheeks.
“We’ll keep in touch,” she promised.
Chapter 9
“So, Haim, what was your impression of yesterday’s meeting with the minister and his men?” Gideon asked as they sat down at one of the marble tables in the lobby of the Hotel Saint Jacques. It was just the two of them.
“I must admit,” replied Haim, “I’m having a hard time connecting with the French. It’s the way they speak English. It sounds too much like French to me. I’ll feel more comfortable with the Americans. I’ve interacted with them many times in the past. So tell me, Gideon, how do you know French?” he asked, unable to conceal his envy.
“I learned it in my younger days,” said Gideon, “when I was studying at the Technion.”
“Really? I never knew they taught French at the Technion.”
“I was enamored with the sound of the language even before I got there, and when I started studying, I took an elective course in French they were offering. But most of it is from the two summers I spent working at Sagem in Paris.” He did not feel the need to share the most significant source of his French: Dominique. He was not willing to share her with anyone.
“All that, in addition to your career in Sayeret Tzanhanim?” remarked Haim. “Impressive.”
“We just had the luck of serving during a period with a lot of reprisal operations.”
“Don’t underestimate the importance of what you guys did or of the legacy you left behind,” Haim insisted. “We admired the courage it took to cross the border on deep patrols and the creativity of your reprisal operations. We also respected the spirit with which you infused the army—which, in many ways, was exhausted after the War of Independence. I mentioned your name many times during our ‘heritage evenings’ when I was serving as the commander of the paratroopers brigade. The rescue of the Sayeret fighter who was being held prisoner in the refugee camp in Jenin has become a legend.”
“I disconnected myself after serving as a battalion commander in the paratroopers. I guess I decided that my life would be better spent on a professional and academic track.”
“It was a good decision. Perhaps I should have gotten out in time and not let them lead me on with promises…”
“What happened during your service?” Gideon asked. “Command of the regular service paratroopers brigade is typically a sure springboard to the rank of major general, if not higher.”
“You know, I can’t seem to put my finger on a specific point along the way, that is, after I finished up my stint as brigade commander without any foul-ups. Maybe I was too quick to accept command of a reserves division instead of waiting a few more months for a regular service division. Perhaps I was too independent and didn’t build enough support for myself among the generals… In any event, here I am. And after two years with the Military Intelligence Directorate—which, I must admit, have been extremely interesting—my possibilities for advancement have pretty much evaporated. That’s why when they suggested I join the task force, I saw it as a change and an opportunity to do something different.”
“When did you actually give up on the future of your military career?”
“My first year as commander of the reserve division included special retraining for the armored corps, which was a bit too basic for my liking. That’s when I knew that it was not where I wanted to be. I had received a commitment from the Senior Staff Administration that they would allow me university studies, and I decided, entirely too late in terms of my ability to understand and memorize material, to study electronic engineering at Tel Aviv University.”
“Why engineering?” Gideon asked. “Older senior officers typically go for something less challenging, like political science or military history.”
“I just got ambitious. But also at home,” Haim added with more candor. “My wife, Zehavit, was pestering me to go into something that would pay off in the future. The standard of living that a military salary can afford has never been enough for her… She’s right. It really is time to forget about the military career, and make some real money.”
“It’s never too late to start something new. Who knows—maybe this project will help you find a new Archimedean point.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Haim said, with a trace of incredulity. “Do you think that there’s a point out there that could allow me to shift my entire world?”
“Well, the war against terrorism, which uses the tools of organized crime in the international arena, is taking shape. That’s clear to everyone. I’m certain that the field of ‘homeland security,’ to use the post-9/11 American term, holds immense business potential for those who make an early entry.”
“I must say, Gideon,” Haim said, smiling and nodding his head, “you certainly do think in the long term. Most senior officers aren’t able to do that. They learn lessons from one war to the next, and their most distant horizon is a year or two in the future. But I guess that’s better than our politicians. They focus their attention on the next day’s newspaper headlines and radio and television shows…”
“That’s true of all politicians, everywhere in the world,” Gideon commented. “The truth is that those of us who work in research and development have an advantage. It’s a field that requires us to think long term. I also believe that our work allows us a broader view and gets us accustomed to assessing different alternatives and choosing the most suitable one. Even before we dive into the problem facing our task force, for example, it seems to me that we’ll need to use all of our combined skills to get a broader view that considers the future.”
The Parisian sun had already set without the two men taking notice. People entered and left the hotel, but the conversation continued uninterrupted. For the third time, the waiter circulating through the lobby stop
ped at their table and asked if they wanted to order something. Gideon ordered a short espresso for himself and the same for Haim.
This guy is starting to run my life here, Haim thought as he sipped the bitter beverage. He could have at least asked me first. But Gideon is right about the new beginning. Having all that money will be good for Zehavit, and for me as well.
“As soon as we have a free evening,” said Gideon, as if echoing Haim’s thoughts, “I hope you’ll allow me to take you to a restaurant I visited long ago. It’s only a short walk from here, and we’ll need to make reservations. You can judge the cuisine of Le Petit Prince de Paris for yourself.”
“Certainly,” said Haim, managing to overcome his resentment. “We’ll do that sometime.”
Chapter 10
The black Citroën with a gendarmerie sergeant major at the wheel glided quietly along the road leading to Place Beauvau, where the head offices of the Ministry of Interior were located. The car passed through the impressive lattice gate without being stopped by the security detail and pulled to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Professor Bernard’s assistant awaited them as they stepped out of the car and ushered them through security and upstairs.
“Good morning, my friends!” Bernard said, looking up once they were seated comfortably in the chairs in the sitting area.
“Good morning Professor Bernard,” Gideon said cordially.
“It’s quite a beautiful city you have here,” said Haim. “I really enjoyed the ride over.”
“I’m glad. I have no doubt you’ll have the opportunity to see much more of it during your stay.” Bernard paused momentarily and then got down to business. “We have approximately half an hour until our American friends arrive. Before they get here, I’d like to talk to you about the advantages we believe you bring to the project—specifically, your combination of combat experience and technological and engineering knowledge. It’s something that both of you have and that many of us, unfortunately, lack.”
“Because of the war against terrorism in our region, we have no choice but to use everything at our disposal to reduce the threat,” Haim explained. “But I have a question about the project, Professor Bernard. How do you intend to keep the work of the task force secret?”
Gideon threw a questioning glance in Haim’s direction and pondered the abrupt change in subject. What was he trying to achieve? He decided to broach the subject with Haim later, in private.
“I can assure you that all the arrangements are being guided by security considerations,” Bernard explained patiently. “We did not want Iranian agents to take notice of the assembly of the task force, and we know of a significant number of their agents in Paris. Our work here is secure and officially built into our larger schedule of regular meetings.”
“I think we can trust the judgment of our French partners.” Gideon maintained eye contact with Bar-Oz as he spoke. “After all, they are our hosts, and they have a better understanding of the necessary precautions than we do.”
“We are about to meet our American partners in the project,” said Bernard, refocusing the conversation on the subject at hand. “Dr. Ben-Ami, I believe you know a few of them.”
“I heard a number of familiar names. They’re good men, and I’m looking forward to working with them.”
The table in the conference room of the interior minister’s office had been set up for the meeting of the task force. Each participant was given a folder of relevant material and a booklet explaining the background of the task force’s establishment. As the members trickled in, they were all inevitably drawn to the enticing refreshments table to chat and start getting acquainted.
“Ladies and gentleman, please take your seats so we can begin. We have a busy schedule,” Professor Bernard announced loudly; then he waited a minute or two for the task force members to make their way to the table and find their places. “This morning, we are pleased to welcome our American partners, Mr. John O’Connor of the FBI and Dr. Gerald Deutsch of SRI at Stanford University. George and Helen have also joined the team.” Bernard motioned to the two CIA representatives from the US Embassy in Paris. “They will be assisting with the task force’s communication with the American embassy here.”
“Thank you, Professor Bernard,” O’Connor said with a smile, and then he turned his attention to the group. “I’d just like to remind you all that our success in uncovering the spy network set up by the Guardians of the Revolution in the United States would have been impossible without the invaluable assistance of Dr. Ben-Ari. We are truly pleased to have him here with us again.” Gideon smiled and nodded politely in thanks but said nothing. He glanced over at Dominique, who was busy translating and writing, never lifting her head.
“Gentlemen,” Bernard began in French. He examined a document in the file before him then lifted his head and addressed the group. “Information we’ve assembled regarding the last few months indicates significant activity by the Guardians in France. They have attempted to establish relationships with French companies aimed primarily at acquiring new sources for procuring supervised products and materials. Dual-use products appear to be a major target.” Bernard paused, giving Dominique time to translate his words into English and using the opportunity to familiarize himself with the faces around the table.
“We’ve also learned of a special effort by Iranian embassy personnel in Paris to recruit new agents, with an emphasis on individuals with technological expertise. We’ve been doing our best to identify sleeper agents, but we’re not certain we’ve found them all. We must assume that there are some that we’ll only discover after they go active. The primary target of their recruitment campaign is Iranians who fled their country from the period of the Shah up to the present. We’re all aware of the few months Khomeini spent in Paris. He was granted asylum after being expelled from Iraq and, after the fall of the Shah, he returned to Iran as a champion of the people. We know of many Iranians who integrated into French life and were granted citizenship. A third area in which the Guardians have been active is subversion and terrorism, possibly including assassinations and killings. Our assumption is that the Iranians are establishing the core of a Quds Force unit in France. Ali Reza Sulat, the new cultural attaché at the Iranian embassy in Paris, was transferred here from Berlin. But make no mistake—this ‘cultural’ official’s area of specialty is actually the culture of killing.”
“So, who is this guy really?” asked O’Connor, after listening to Dominique’s translation.
“Sulat was the commander of the Quds Force training base in Tehran,” Bernard answered. “For this reason, his transfer from Berlin to Paris should set off a warning light for all of us.”
“Professor Bernard,” interjected General de Villiers, “could you possibly say a few words about what is required of us to formulate a plan of action? Each of the three areas of activity you outlined poses a major challenge in itself. Dealing with them together is an undertaking that must be well planned and coordinated in order to prevent it from deteriorating into chaos.”
“That is correct. It is of the utmost importance for us to receive intelligence information, and we need to immediately establish a method of decrypting the communications to and from the Iranian embassy here that is quicker than what we now possess. We also need to consider the number of internet-based messages that are able to evade our existing monitoring networks.”
“We’d be glad to place the technical teams operating within our embassy at your disposal,” offered George from the American embassy. “We have a great team that can be instructed in accordance with the urgency and the priorities of the project.”
Gideon reflected on something that was widely known within the intelligence community: that US embassies also function as massive listening stations manned by CIA personnel and NSA experts. This was certainly true of the embassy in Tel Aviv and, apparently, also the embassy in Paris.
“Gideon,”
O’Connor began hesitantly, “how is Avni’s son? What’s his name, Dan? I know that in Silicon Valley he’s regarded as the guru of advanced communications. I also understand that New Horizons owes him a great deal for his major contributions to its recent development.”
“We also thought about having Dan join the project,” Gideon said. “Our superiors in Israel have agreed, in principle, to permit him to join the task force.”
Haim turned toward Gideon with a questioning look, as he had not been involved in the process of bringing Dan Avni into the project.
“I’ll fill you in afterward,” Gideon whispered to Haim.
De Villiers cut in. “I would like to remind you, Professor Bernard—you and the rest of the task force members present here—that in our national security council, the General Secretariat, we’ve established a military intelligence division that brings together all fields of listening and security intelligence under one roof. We started working on it immediately following the First Gulf War. I am pleased to inform you that this division is entirely at the disposal of the project. Madame Saint-Germaine can provide you with assistance regarding the experts that the division will assign to the project.”
Dominique looked around at the other task force members and smiled. Her focus, however, was on Gideon.
An air of fascination settled over Haim as he watched Dominique translate de Villiers’ words into English. He hoped they would have a chance to work together, and he wondered about the smile she had appeared to direct at Gideon.
“In addition to the assistance of the people at our embassy, we can also offer access to our collection of profiles of Guardian operatives who have worked in the United States,” O’Connor volunteered. “Even if the Iranians use new operatives who we don’t know, we can still learn a lot from the working methods that were exposed when we took down their network in California. Gerald,” O’Connor said, turning to Dr. Deutsch, “you must have something to add, based on our experience with the spy network in California, don’t you?”
